That evening, Charlotte gave a lot of thought to the idea of meeting with Dieter Karhausen. At the time she’d come to his aid, he’d been young, hardly more than a boy, in desperate pain and about to be taken off to prison. Now, eleven years on, he was a grown man who’d fought for the country that had rejected her when she was only a child. She thought of Harry. What would he say if he was asked to meet up with someone, like Dieter Karhausen, turning up after years and expecting to be welcomed? She could only guess and knew it wouldn’t be polite. But then, perhaps Dieter wasn’t expecting to be welcomed, perhaps he’d come in trepidation, not knowing how, even after all these years, he’d be received. What would Billy have said? But Billy wasn’t there to ask, and though she loved him every bit as much as she always had, he had slipped into the recesses of her mind, always there, but no longer the almost physical presence she had felt him immediately after his death.
Now she wondered what Felix would think. She had been using Felix as a sounding board quite a lot recently. He’d become very fond of the children, and not having any of his own to spoil, sometimes dropped by to see them, to give them small treats, even suggesting an occasional trip out, like the day they’d been for a picnic on the beach at Weston and he’d bought ice creams. All the children loved him and Charlotte had grown to love him, too. Not in a romantic way, of course, but as a friend. He was married to Daphne and Daphne had nothing to fear from Charlotte. There could never be anything more than friendship between them, but the friendship that had developed since Billy had died was deep and abiding. Charlotte knew she could trust Felix implicitly, that he would be there for her and her family as he had been from the moment of finding Billy, lying broken on the ground. She remembered the day she’d encountered him in the churchyard, how, wretchedly and in tears, she’d blurted out the news of her pregnancy and the way he’d simply put an arm round her, steadying her; the way he’d received, and always honoured, this confidence. She had trusted him and he’d never betrayed that trust.
I’ll ask Felix, she thought now. See what he thinks.
In the morning, when Molly had taken the children out to the playground, Charlotte picked up the phone and rang the manor, hoping it would be Felix rather than Daphne who answered. It was.
‘Charlotte,’ a smile in his voice as he recognised hers, ‘what can I do for you?’
‘I wondered if you could come over sometime today? I need your advice.’
‘Of course. What about?’
‘Tell you when you get here.’
Felix looked at the pile of paperwork in front of him and pushing his chair back from the table, said, ‘I can come now if you like.’
‘Really? That’d be perfect. I’ll put the kettle on.’
Felix arrived ten minutes later. ‘I saw the children in the playground as I passed,’ he said. ‘They seemed to be having a high old time. There were several other kids there. Johnny was playing with some of the older ones.’
Charlotte smiled. ‘I know. He’s very conscious of moving up a class in September.’ She made a pot of tea and saying, ‘Shall we sit outside?’ carried it out into the garden.
‘Well,’ said Felix when they were settled. ‘What’s up?’
Charlotte explained about Dieter having come back to the village and wanting to see her. ‘The thing is, it was all so long ago, I don’t know if I want to see him.’
‘Then don’t,’ Felix said promptly, adding as she said no more and the silence lengthened between them, ‘Why wouldn’t you, though? You did a great deal for him.’
‘I only took his name and address. It was your father who passed them on to the Red Cross.’
‘Because you asked him to,’ Felix reminded her. ‘Mother once told me you were quite forthright and told him it was his duty.’
‘Did I?’ Charlotte gave a surprised laugh. ‘I’m sure he’d have done it anyway.’
‘Maybe,’ conceded Felix, ‘but it was you who asked him to.’
‘It wasn’t much really,’ shrugged Charlotte.
‘I don’t think you realise what that meant to his family... and to him,’ said Felix. ‘I know my parents would have been eternally grateful to anyone who’d done the same if I’d been shot down and wounded.’
‘Yes, I suppose they would,’ Charlotte agreed.
‘And now he’s come to find you himself. You said Caroline says that he still has difficulty walking. It must have taken some effort to get here.’
‘So, you think I should see him?’ Charlotte still sounded doubtful.
‘Can’t see why not,’ answered Felix.
‘Caro said that I could meet him there, at their house if I wanted to.’
‘That sounds like a good idea,’ Felix said, before suggesting tentatively, ‘Would you like me to be there, too?’
Charlotte’s eyes brightened. ‘Oh, Felix, would you? Would you mind?’
‘No, not at all. I’d quite like to meet him, actually.’
When Caroline heard what Charlotte was asking she agreed at once and suggested they should ask Dieter to come after lunch, before Henry started on his afternoon rounds.
She was a little wary of the fact that Charlotte wanted Felix there, too. She had seen their friendship growing over the last few years and her heart had sunk. Surely they must realise that there was no future for them together; it could only lead to misery for both of them. Felix was married and though these days divorce wasn’t unheard of, Caroline was pretty sure that Daphne wouldn’t entertain the idea of divorcing Felix, even if he was prepared to suggest it. She knew Charlotte wasn’t the sort of woman to settle for half measures, to have an affair with a married man, certainly not within the tight-knit community that was Wynsdown. As it was, Caroline was afraid it wouldn’t be long before there’d be gossip about them in the village. She remembered the way stories had spread when Harry had turned up unexpectedly looking for Charlotte. They would soon be resurrected if people thought Charlotte was now becoming involved with the squire. She could almost hear Nancy Bright saying, ‘Well, of course she was always a flighty one. Don’t you remember that bloke she was seen kissing while her Billy was still alive?’
The thing that amazed Caroline was that neither Felix nor Charlotte appeared to be aware of the depth of their affections. To Caroline it was clear as day that they were falling in love and she’d said as much to Henry.
‘Are they, my dear?’ He looked up from his paper. ‘I hadn’t noticed. That could prove difficult.’
Caroline had to smile. Of course Henry hadn’t noticed. Henry hadn’t noticed he’d fallen in love himself until Caroline had finally pointed it out to him! Still, she worried about Felix and Charlotte. She knew them both well, particularly Charlotte, but she couldn’t help feeling it would soon be as apparent to everyone else as it was to her. And now, here was the German airman turning up asking for Charlotte; reminding them all once again that she was German. What, she wondered, would the village gossips make of that?
Charlotte and Felix were sitting with Henry in the drawing room when Dieter arrived. Charlotte stood up as Caroline brought him into the room. She had only the vaguest recollection of what the young German airman had looked like and when she saw him, she knew she would never have recognised him. He crossed the room towards her, his ungainly walk reminding her of the damage done to his legs, smiling tentatively as he extended his hand. Addressing her in German, he said, ‘I have come to thank you, Frau Shepherd, for all your kindness to me when I was so badly injured. My parents send you their deepest gratitude but I can assure you it is nothing, compared with mine.’
Charlotte accepted his hand, giving it a brief shake, but answering him in English she said, ‘Please, Herr Karhausen, I know from my friends,’ she nodded towards Caroline and Henry, ‘that you speak good English, so please, we’ll only speak English while you’re here.’
For a moment no one seemed to know quite what to say next, but then Felix came to the rescue by asking, ‘How long are you hoping to stay in Wynsdown, Herr Karhausen?’
‘Please, I am Dieter.’
‘Dieter,’ Charlotte said, ‘this is Felix Bellinger. It was his father who commanded the local Home Guard who took you prisoner. It was his father who passed on your details to the Red Cross.’
‘I come also to thank him.’ He looked uncertainly at Henry Masters as if for confirmation and then looking back at Felix, said, ‘But I think your father has died since the war.’
‘He has,’ said Felix, ‘but I appreciate you coming to thank him for what he did.’
‘I wish also to meet the men who cut me down from the tree.’ Dieter looked anxiously at Charlotte and added, speaking German again, ‘I believe one was your husband and that he was killed in an accident. I offer you my condolences for his loss.’
Charlotte nodded, but didn’t reply and Dieter, returning to English, answered Felix’s earlier question. ‘I will stay for some days. Not many. There are other things I wish to do.’
‘Such as?’ Felix realised his question sounded very abrupt and softened it a little by adding, ‘What else are you hoping to do?’
‘I know my comrades did not survive the crash,’ Dieter replied, ‘but I wish to stand where they died and salute them, for myself and for their families.’
‘They are buried in the churchyard,’ Felix told him. ‘I’ll take you there if you like.’
Dieter looked surprised. ‘Buried in your churchyard? Their families do not know this.’
‘Their bodies were brought down from the burnt-out plane,’ Felix said, ‘and given a Christian burial.’
Tears sprang unbidden to Dieter’s eyes, and it was with some embarrassment that he dashed them away. ‘Yes, please,’ he said, ‘I would like to see the burial place.’
Later that afternoon, when Charlotte had gone home again, Felix took Dieter across to the churchyard and showed him the grave with its stone marker.
He stared down at it for a long time before raising his eyes and looking across at Felix. ‘It is sad,’ he said, ‘that they have no names on their stone.’
‘Well, no one knew their names,’ Felix reminded him, a little put out.
‘No, but I know them. I can tell them and maybe we can carve their names here at last.’
‘I suppose so,’ Felix said. ‘I think you’d have to talk to the vicar about that.’
‘Vicar?’ Dieter was at a loss. ‘What is vicar, please?’
‘The priest, the minister.’ Felix waved a vague hand towards the church.
‘Ah! The pastor.’
‘Yes. If you want to meet him, I’ll take you over to the vicarage, but then I’ll have to get back to work.’
Felix led Dieter slowly across the village green to the vicarage. He watched the way the German walked and felt a sudden admiration for his courage; for his courage and determination to learn to walk again; for his courage to come back to the place where he’d been an enemy, to offer his thanks for his life.
As they walked he said, ‘If you’d like to see where the plane crashed we could walk up there sometime. Perhaps on Sunday afternoon?’
‘Yes, please,’ answered Dieter. ‘I would like very much to see this place.’
‘It is a bit of a walk,’ Felix said hesitantly.
‘This is no problem,’ Dieter assured him, ‘I can walk.’
‘Well, if you’re sure...’
‘I am sure, Felix. Thank you.’
‘I’m having lunch with my mother on Sunday, but I’ll come and find you at the Magpie afterwards.’
Felix delivered him to the front door of the vicarage and having introduced him to Avril Swanson, left him in her care and turned his steps homeward. When he reached the manor he decided he couldn’t face the rest of the day in the farm office, and going out to the stables, he tacked up Archie and set off round the farm in a tour of inspection. When he reached the top of the hill, he reined in and looked back at the manor house lying in a fold of the ground; an old stone house drowsing in the afternoon sun surrounded by its kitchen garden, stable yard, cowsheds and paddock. Standing at the far end of the paddock were three cottages, brash and new against the gentle green of their surroundings, the newly constructed driveway a dark slash across to the lane. All three houses were now occupied, two by people who worked in Cheddar and one by a lawyer from Bristol. The ‘dormitory houses’, as the village had named them, had not been a popular idea, but they were within the village fence and permission had been given readily enough with certain provisos. Felix had financed them with a loan and the profit he got from the sales which he’d immediately reinvested in the estate had been both welcome and much needed. John Shepherd had not taken up the idea of buying his own farm outright. When Billy had been killed he had lost the heart for it, it no longer seemed worthwhile.
‘I’ll buy the house,’ he said, ‘if you’ll sell it separately from the land, and I’ll continue to farm the land while I can, paying you rent in the usual way.’ He’d sighed and added, ‘Who knows, maybe young Johnny or one of the twins’ll take it on in the future.’
Felix had agreed the deal and the Shepherds now owned Charing Farmhouse, but not the surrounding land.
Looking down at his home and the land his family had worked for generations, he knew a sudden weary sadness at the thought that he’d have no son to inherit and work the land, no daughter growing up within the warmth of its comforting walls. Was all his worry and hard work really worth it? Maybe Daphne was right. Maybe they should just sell up and move away.
‘Not while Mother’s still alive,’ he’d insisted, and despite Daphne’s urging, he steadfastly refused to reconsider.