It had never been the refugees’ plan to stay long in Budmouth Point. Although in the end they’d got a warm welcome here, our country’s immigration laws were not so friendly. Without official visas the Jews were termed ‘enemy aliens’, which to me sounded like more nasty name-calling: technically it meant they weren’t supposed to be here. Over the following days a few more of the refugees left – Mr Geffen headed to Canada, Miriam and Reuben, Elise and Jakob for America. Realistically I knew it wouldn’t be long before Esther and Dr Wirth went on their way too.
Meanwhile, knowing Sukie was still on the other side of the Channel made missing her even harder. German-occupied France was a dangerous place. No one had heard from her. No one could get hold of her, though Miss Carter, still blaming herself, tried every possible avenue. I think she even considered sending a pigeon.
I felt hopeless because there was nothing I could do. It was unbearable to think we’d come this far and Sukie might not make it home safely. Yet much as I adored my sister, I was beginning to understand Mum’s view too. Sukie was brilliant, but she wasn’t necessarily careful. The fact she’d travelled all the way to France then missed the boat home was a rather good example of it. Yet as much as Sukie was careless, she was brave and resourceful, so we shouldn’t have been surprised that she eventually found her way back to us in the manner she did.
*
One morning, as was often the case, I woke very early. It was soon after Cliff had come out of hospital. Not strong enough to face the lighthouse ladder yet, he was staying at Mrs Henderson’s with Mum, and I’d not quite got used to having the bedroom to myself. I’d read all my books from home countless times, and the ones on the shelves above our beds. Knowing I’d not be able to get back to sleep, I decided to go for a walk.
‘Coming, girl?’ I whispered to Pixie, who was stretched out on Cliff’s bed. She opened one disinterested eye, which I took to mean ‘no’. Pulling on a cardigan over my nightgown, I grabbed my coat and shoes and tiptoed down the stairs.
Outside, it was just getting light. There was no one about, only gulls circling the harbour, which was always a sign the fishing boats were due back soon. For once, there wasn’t even a breeze. The sea was flat, silky-looking, the same pinks and blues and oranges as the sky.
Dropping on to the beach, I started walking. I’d not been down here since the refugees arrived, and the crunch of shingle underfoot brought back to me, vividly, the drama and panic of that night. Only twelve refugees were left in Budmouth. It was mid-March now, which meant they’d been here almost a month. They’d settled well; in a way it felt like they’d always lived here. And on a day like today, when the sea was kind and the sky bright, it was easy to forget anything bad or dangerous had happened – was still happening across the Channel in Europe.
At this time of day, the tide was a long way out, making the beach seem wider and flatter than usual. Before long I’d reached the groyne, where I stopped to gaze out to sea.
I heard the engine first – a chugging, spluttering – that for a split second made my heart stop. But boat engines, I was learning, sounded different from aeroplanes. The boat rounding the headland was the first of the fishing fleet returning to harbour. You could tell the catch was good from the way the hull sat low in the water. It passed close enough to shore for me to see the men on board, laughing and joking with each other. One of them waved to me – a proper, gleeful, two-armed wave above his head. It made me smile as I waved back.
By the time I reached the harbour again the fishing boat was already moored up. The men had unloaded their nets and were stacking boxes of silvery fish on the quay. It was an impressive, delicious sight and got me thinking about mackerel on toast for breakfast. So I wasn’t paying a huge amount of attention when someone called out, ‘Olive? Is that you?’
I froze to the spot. I’d have known that voice anywhere.
‘I can’t believe it!’ she cried.
It stunned me. I couldn’t believe it, either. But there was no mistaking who it was.
I didn’t even get a proper look at her. She threw herself at me with such force we both fell backwards across the cobbles. The person holding on to me was soaking wet, and terribly in need of a bath. I didn’t care. I clung to her as tight as she clung to me.
‘I saw you on the beach,’ Sukie mumbled against my neck. ‘I was on the fishing boat, waving …’ She was sobbing and laughing all at once. So was I.
When at last we pulled apart, I looked at her properly, and thought for one awful moment there’d been a mistake. This wasn’t my sister at all, but a stranger. Last time I’d seen her she’d had curled hair, face powder, lipstick, the works. Now she was wearing trousers and a man’s tweed jacket, with a woolly hat pulled down over her hair.
‘I’m not looking my best, am I?’ Sukie joked feebly.
It didn’t matter; none of that silly stuff mattered.
‘I’m just so glad to see you,’ I whispered.
‘Me too,’ she said, cupping my face in her freezing-cold hands.
‘What … I mean … how …?’ I managed to say. There was so much I had to ask her I didn’t know where to start.
The fishermen had stopped unloading their catch to watch us. It was funny how they gazed at Sukie as if she was their favourite, long-lost daughter.
One of them called out: ‘Caught more than fish today, didn’t we, eh?’
I recognised him. He was the man who’d argued with Queenie about the lighthouse. Who’d told Mr Barrowman to shut up over the German pilot. I’d had him down as an old curmudgeon, but not any more: he was the man who’d brought my sister safely home.
I stared at Sukie. ‘Where did they find you?’
Sukie laughed her lovely tinkly laugh. ‘Oh, adrift in the Channel in a rowing boat. They rescued me late last night – it was a stroke of absolute luck. I can’t thank these dear chaps enough.’
It was just how things were with Sukie: even in the middle of the English Channel she’d found people willing to help her. This time, though, she’d been the one trying to help others, and she’d risked her life doing it.
*
It was easier – and warmer – to go straight back to Mrs Henderson’s. She made tea and crumpets and banked up the sitting-room fire so it quickly grew stifling. Sukie, in borrowed dry clothes, her hair wrapped in a towel, sat as close as she could to the hearth to get warm. We didn’t mean to wake everyone, but it wasn’t long before Cliff came downstairs. His face was an absolute picture when he saw Sukie. Throwing his arms around her, he stared at her, speechless.
‘Can we go to the cinema again?’ was the first thing he managed to say. ‘A proper trip that lasts more than ten minutes?’
The next footsteps on the stairs were Mum’s. Seeing the chair pulled up to the hearth, she stopped in the doorway.
‘Hullo, Mum.’ Sukie, rather sheepishly, stood up.
‘Oh, Sukie,’ Mum said quietly. ‘You silly, silly girl.’
I braced myself for the hugs. The kisses. The happy tears. Cliff’s favourite bits in films were when long-lost people got reunited, yet this was real life, concerning people we loved.
Mum, though, wasn’t smiling.
‘You weren’t well. The doctor told you to rest, didn’t he? No work, no stress – that’s what he said,’ Sukie tried to explain.
‘Oh, my darling girl,’ Mum murmured. ‘I’ve been so desperately worried about you.’
Sukie started crying. ‘I was only trying to help. I knew you wouldn’t want to let anyone down.’
When they hugged it was like watching two people cling to each other for dear life. It was quite overwhelming – and so typical of Mum and Sukie, whose love for each other was always the boldest, fiercest kind.
Eventually, they sat down on the settee. Sukie, her feet tucked under her, leaned against Mum.
‘I’ve got some explaining to do,’ Sukie admitted, addressing me. ‘I’m so sorry I left you and Cliff during the air raid. I shouldn’t have shouted when you came after me.’
Knowing what I knew now, it made sense that she had. Me calling ‘Sukie’ at the top of my voice, when she was pretending to be Mrs Arby, would’ve blown her cover.
‘I ended up with Mum’s coat,’ I told her. ‘And I found the note you’d hidden in it. So we managed – eventually – to work out what you were up to.’
I could sense her looking at me – really looking, like she was seeing something new. ‘You clever old stick,’ she said finally, which made me stupidly pleased. Then she unwrapped the towel from her head and shook out her damp hair.
‘Good grief!’ Mum gasped. ‘Your beautiful hair!’
‘It’s so … short!’ Cliff cried.
Actually, it wasn’t much shorter than mine. But you could see lumps hacked out of it – a haircut done in a hurry.
‘I had to,’ Sukie explained. ‘It was a disguise to get past the soldiers.’
Cliff looked aghast. ‘I’ve never seen a boy with hair like that.’
Personally, I thought it looked daringly glamorous, especially on Sukie. Mum ran her hand over it like she was stroking a cat.
‘Why do you get yourself into these scrapes?’ she said, though not unkindly. ‘You didn’t even have the good sense to catch the right boat home again.’
‘I didn’t miss the boat on purpose, Mum,’ Sukie replied. ‘I met someone and our meeting took longer than expected. You see, the man, Monsieur Bonet, knew Dad.’
Mum’s hand fell into her lap. ‘How?’
‘He was with him at the end.’
I covered my mouth, but Sukie reached for my hand and clasped it tightly in hers. I hoped some of her courage would seep into me because I wasn’t sure I was ready for what she had to say next.