‘But you asked to meet me first, why?’ She took a deep breath, she knew they were attracted to each other, she felt drawn to Michael more and more each time she saw him. Now that Meryl came regularly to see Father Hari had spent a great deal of time with Michael. She knew she cared for him and knew it would never work.

‘I could never live in the country. I love my job in Bridgend so much I couldn’t leave it.’ Today she had learned that Germany had suffered its first defeat of the war, Stalingrad having at last fallen after months of fighting; the Germans were in retreat. It was good news but news she felt unable to share with Michael.

‘My little sister has enjoyed her visit to Swansea,’ she said awkwardly. It was true: Meryl visited the munitions as often as she was in Swansea; she loved the business of the office, the radio signals, the codes, loved it all.

She had picked up the codes with remarkable swiftness, her young mind making mincemeat of what Hari had struggled so hard to learn.

‘And yet Meryl thinks of the farm as her home. I’m a town girl to the soles of my feet,’ Hari said casually, hoping to deflect what he was about to say but realizing he was going to speak his mind anyway.

‘I’m falling in love with you, Hari.’ He rested his hand on hers across the table and she looked down into her cold cup of tea without seeing it.

‘It’s no good,’ she said, ‘there’s so much wrong, the timing is all wrong. There’s the war, my father, my job and, not the least, Meryl.’

‘She’s only a child.’

‘Wake up Michael, she’s sixteen, she’s grown into a woman. Haven’t you noticed?’

‘Physically she might have changed but she’s still a girl, she’ll fall in love many times before she settles down.’

‘You don’t know her like I do.’

‘Hari, this isn’t about Meryl, it’s about you and me.’

She felt his hand press on hers and she turned her fingers to clasp his. ‘Just leave it for now, Michael, please, I’ve enough to worry about with my father and work and Kate and… well, I can’t handle any more.’ She stood up. ‘I’m going home to get Meryl ready for the trip, give us an hour and then come for her and for heaven’s sake don’t mention—’ she waved her arm—‘any of this.’

She walked away quickly before she gave in to his pleading eyes. Her heart was pounding, she felt more than attracted to Michael and she was enchanted by his hardly discernible lisp on certain words. She knew he shouldn’t draw attention to himself, he was half German and shouldn’t be in this country at all. He had risked a great deal to come to talk to her in Swansea.

Meryl had already packed her small case. Hari smiled as she saw them sitting together, father and daughter, Meryl’s head bent over the newspaper as she read out the daily news.

‘Father! Some more American soldiers and airmen are to be stationed just outside Swansea.’

‘Aren’t there enough of them here already?’ Father’s voice was laconic. He glanced at Hari in the doorway and winked. ‘You know what they say, girl, don’t you? The Americans are overpaid over here and over…’

‘Father!’ Hari tried not to laugh, her father was used to the soldier’s life but rough talk that was normal in the trenches wouldn’t do in a respectable house of girls. She glanced at her watch.

‘Do you mind if I go to see Kate and the baby, Meryl?’

Her sister looked up at her with a bright face. ‘Go on you, Michael is coming for me soon.’

Hari forced a smile. ‘I might not be back so say hello for me.’

‘I will.’ Meryl’s smile widened.

Hari kissed them both and left the house because she didn’t think she could bear to see Michael and not throw herself into his arms and promise to go anywhere on earth with him. She felt tears in her eyes and it had started to rain, cold sleety rain that stung her face, and the rain mingled with her tears and ran coldly down her cheeks.

Twenty-Four

I couldn’t take my eyes from Michael as he drove us away from town and headed out towards the country roads. His jaw, thin and lean and weathered, was tinged with a bright growth of beard. He looked different, older, there were furrows on his forehead I hadn’t noticed before.

‘Everything all right at home, Aunt Jessie well is she?’ I was anxious but he nodded and flashed me a grin.

‘Jessie’s fit as ever, ruling the roost with a hand of iron as usual.’ He frowned again, ‘Your father is looking well.’ He paused. ‘How is Hari?’

My heart sank—so this was about Hari. Suspicion flared in me so I took a chance. ‘You ought to know, you’ve seen her, haven’t you?’

‘She told you?’

My suspicion was confirmed; men could be such fools, so gullible. I’d noticed that with my father, who took everything I said on face value—come to that so did Georgie Porgy. I thought Michael had more sense.

‘Of course she told me, I’m her sister aren’t I?’

‘Well, she…’ He hesitated. ‘It was only a cup of tea and a chat, Meryl, nothing improper took place—we were in public all the time.’

‘I should think so too!’ How I kept my voice steady I didn’t know. So they were meeting secretly behind my back. The betrayal was too much to bear. I stared out of the car window looking at the green fields and the animals browsing, but the sense of peace the countryside had given me of late was gone. Jealousy, hot and hateful, poured like bile into my mouth, my heart felt as if it would break.

‘How long has this been going on, you two meeting secretly?’

He gave a short laugh. ‘You sound like a nagging wife. It’s nothing to worry about.’ His voice hardened. ‘In any case, Meryl, it’s none of your business.’

I felt fury rise up and drench me with bitterness and pain. ‘You, you German!’

His mouth set in a straight line and for the rest of the journey he ignored me. I sagged in my seat, all the spirit drained from me. I thought Michael would be mine one day when he realized I was a grown-up but no, he’d fallen for my beautiful sister. How could he after holding me against his heart all night in the barn, after being my hero, finding me twice when I ran away from the Dixons? I loved him, why couldn’t he love me back?

Aunt Jessie saw at once there was something wrong between us. ‘Been quarrelling?’ Blunt as ever.

‘Not really.’ Michael answered for me. ‘Just a funny mood of Meryl’s. She’s trying to tell me how to run my life and I’m not having it.’

Aunt Jessie stared at him. ‘You can be very blunt at times, Michael.’

If I hadn’t felt so low I would have laughed, talk about the pot calling the kettle black. ‘It really doesn’t matter, Aunt Jessie,’ I said, ‘I just think Michael is silly meeting Hari in Swansea like he does.’

She put down the tea towel she was holding and shook her head. ‘You foolish boy! Do you want to be transported out of the country, perhaps arrested as a spy? Think, boy, how would I manage on the farm if you were taken away from me?’

‘I’m only half German remember.’ Michael glanced at me, the reproach in his eyes intended for me.

I wanted to speak but then Aunt Jessie was fighting the battle for me very well on her own.

‘You fool! Do you think that will matter? Those poor Jewish people were turned out of their shop in the town just because they were foreign. They are not even the enemy. The Germans are bombing our towns into dust. I know you can’t help it all happening but at least promise me you won’t visit Swansea again until all this war thing is over.’

‘Sorry, I can’t and won’t promise that. Face it, Jessie, I’m a man. If it wasn’t for you and the farm I’d be fighting the war out there on the front line.’

‘Good thing for the farm then.’ Aunt Jessie’s voice was acid. ‘Because I’m not too sure at all on which side you would be fighting.’ She threw down the tea cloth. ‘Cook your own damn food.’

As she went out I knew she was crying. I looked at Michael and made a move to go after her but he shook his head.

‘No,’ he said flatly, ‘I think you’ve caused enough damage for one day, don’t you?’

After that everything was different, Michael went off some days and I knew he was going to Swansea to see Hari. Aunt Jessie was tired and dispirited and sometimes when Michael was out we’d sit close together, listen to the wireless and try not to think too much about the man we both loved facing danger in Swansea’s busy streets.

On the way to school one day George stopped me as I was struggling with my books. ‘Can I carry some for you, Meryl?’ His tone was humble and the books were heavy so I nodded. He looked happy and took my bag.

‘I wanted to ask you a favour,’ he said hesitantly. I glared at him.

‘If it’s to go out with you, forget it.’

‘No, I wondered if you’d help me with my English, I can’t seem to grasp the book we’re reading—the one about the stupid couple who fall in love and then kill themselves.’

I tried not to laugh. I knew he meant Romeo and Juliet but I teased him. ‘Was that the one where the daft girl stood on the balcony calling this lovesick twerp’s name.’

George had the sense to look uneasy, he sensed a snub coming a mile off. I changed my mind. ‘All right,’ I said, ‘I’ll help.’

He looked startled, half afraid to trust me but I smiled encouragingly and sat down on one of the grassy banks at the side of the winding road—there were plenty of them, winding roads and banks, this was the country. ‘Get the book out then.’

So I sat with George, explained the story to him. ‘Their families hated each other,’ I said. ‘The Montagues and the Capulets were enemies, they didn’t want their children ending the feud so they opposed the relationship.’