“Buster and I smiled on these occasions. ‘All the better for us,’ was Buster’s comment. I believed she would have taken any risk to work against them.

“But she was tender and sympathetic. When she dressed my arm she would murmur, ‘Le pauvre petit garçon.’ It comforted me, for the pain could be great.

“We learned a little from Marianne of what had happened, how the great General de Gaulle was going to save France, of the Allied landings in Normandy, of that villain Pétain who had betrayed France and become a slave to the cruel conquerors. The English and the Americans were ‘magnifique’ and here they were, back on French soil to rise against the conquerors and betrayers, to wipe away the country’s shame and make her great again.

“It was her duty to help escaping prisoners, she said. She was doing it for France and she had liked so much the charming men who had come her way. There had been two airmen. They had dropped from their parachutes. She had kept them for two nights. There had been men from the château. She could tell them about the country … she could get clothes for them. She had some which had belonged to her husband who could no longer wear them because of the cursed Hun.

“I could see that I was a handicap for Buster and I said he should go on without me. We were too near the château for comfort. What if the guards discovered that we were in this house? Not only should we suffer, but Marianne herself would.

“Buster turned this aside, and so did Marianne. She would not allow me to go with such an arm, though she could do but little for it, alas. It needed a doctor. She could not call one, for how could she trust him? No, she would do what she could. At least it was something.

“Then we met Lisette. Lisette had been staying at her uncle’s farm and had now come home to her mother. She was a younger version of Marianne—with the same plump and shapely figure, the same hooded eyes and full lips and overwhelming femininity. She smiled warmly at us. She must have been accustomed to her mother’s helping men to escape: she could speak a little English which was helpful.

“She said: ‘Escape. You? From the château?’

“We told her we had and that her mother had been very helpful.

“‘My mother like much English and Americans. I too.’

“‘Lucky for us,’ said Buster.

“We were at Marianne’s for several weeks. Much of the time I was hardly aware of my surroundings. It seemed so unreal there. My arm began to fester, but Marianne was afraid to ask the doctor to come. She was wonderful to us. She kept us there and fed us, though we had no money with which to pay her.

“‘She do for France,’ declared Lisette dramatically. Buster worked on the farm, which I am sure was a great help, but I was unable to do anything.

“There was a time in the beginning when I suffered from delirium. It was a sort of fever …”

Jowan paused, as though looking back. I guessed he was seeing the old farmhouse, and recalling the strangeness and uncertainty of those days.

“The Allies were advancing,” he went on, “and there seemed to be numbers of Germans everywhere. We had to be very careful not to be seen. Marianne had a big cupboard in which she proposed to hide us if they ever came to the house. It contained heavy farm implements and we were to crouch behind some sacks if it was ever necessary. I was sure, if they ever came, we should be discovered at once. Fortunately, we did not have to hide.

“I was always urging Buster to get away. It would be easier for him if he did not have an invalid to look after. He would not go, of course. I think he was enjoying his stay at the farmhouse. It was clear that he liked Marianne and her daughter. He had mended and painted the wheelbarrow and it was placed on the farm. It was almost like a shrine.

“‘Our savior,’ he called it. ‘Do you know, sir, we couldn’t have got by without that? Makes you think.’ He would go and look at it every day and, as he left, blow it a kiss. There was an unsuspected sentimental streak in Buster’s nature.

“I think he was on rather special terms with Marianne. He told me once that Marianne was ‘a bit of all right.’ This was always accompanied by a wink. He was equally devoted to Lisette.

“There was something cozy about the atmosphere of the farmhouse, in spite of the danger which was lurking all through the days and nights.

“They used to get me to talk in the evenings when we sat in the dark. Buster was always alert for noises which might suggest the arrival of unwelcome visitors. I told them about the Priory, the old monks who used to live here. I described the wild Cornish coast. Lisette was enchanted. Her slight command of English made it possible for her to ask questions, and she would convey the answers to her mother. Buster would sit there listening, smiling on us all. He always regarded himself as the man of the house. I didn’t qualify because of my wound. He was the one who would look after us all. It was a strange set-up, but we all knew that it was transient and could disappear at any moment.

“Inevitably it came to an end. Marianne came in one day with the news that the British soldiers were only a few miles away. She took out a tattered tricoleur from one of the drawers, muttered fiercely over it, and hung it from one of the windows.

“Lisette told us: ‘Her great-grandfather hung it there when the Germans came in 1870.’ The cloth was fluttering from the window when we left. I said to Marianne: ‘I do not know how to thank you.’ She began to speak rapidly and Lisette translated: ‘She is happy to have you here. It is her duty to France … and she like you.’

“‘We owe her our lives,’ I said. ‘We shall not forget.’

“‘When war is over, maybe you come back,’ she said.

“Violetta, you will come back with me? I want to show it to you.”

“We shall go together,” I said. “And what about Buster?”

“He will want to see it again, I daresay.

“The rest is predictable,” he continued. “We joined the army which was getting closer every day. Buster thought they’d want him to stay but they sent us both home. We had been all that time in a prison camp and they thought we should both be checked. They set in motion the necessary arrangements and we left. Before we did so, the army doctor looked at my arm and did not much like what he saw. He said it needed attention long ago. When we arrived in England, Buster went his way and I went mine. I am to report to Poldown Hospital without delay. So, here I am.”

“I still can’t believe it.”

“Nor I. We’ll go ahead with our plans, shan’t we?”

“Oh yes, Jowan.”

“And the war can’t last much longer. We must be near the end. It will be as we planned it. We’ll forget the years between.”

“We will.”

“You haven’t thought of changing your mind?”

I laughed. “No. I always believed you would come back. I could not have borne it otherwise. Others thought you never would, but your grandmother and I went on believing.”

“And I believed you would be waiting for me. That belief helped me through. I used to recall details of those meetings we had. Do you remember the first time at Smithy’s … all those years ago? And I thought of you, wondering … and there was no means of getting a word to you.”

“It is all over now. This wretched war has brought misery to millions. One man’s mad dream and a deluded nation following him! Well, disaster is overtaking them now and we can only rejoice. But enough of that. Let’s talk about ourselves.”

So we talked. He was not sure what his future would be; it might well be that he would rejoin his regiment.

“I wonder what happened to Buster,” he said. “He must have been undernourished after those years in a prison camp, although his energy had not flagged in the least.”

“You must ask him to our wedding,” I said.

“He would love that!” He looked blank, and went on: “Do you know, I haven’t got his address. I could get in touch with him through the regiment, I suppose.”

“I should like to meet him.”

“He’s a fine character. You’ll be impressed.”

“He saved your life. That will be my main reason for liking him.”

And so we talked and planned.

Life was wonderful. When I went into the town, people rushed up to congratulate me. Gordon was very kind. I thought what a good man he was and remembered that, in the beginning, I had been suspicious of him. But in those days everything at Tregarland’s had seemed uncanny.

Dorabella rang often. She said how happy she was for me. She knew what it was to be happy and she wanted the same for her twin sister. My parents were constantly in touch. They urged me to bring Jowan to Caddington, but they understood that that was not possible immediately. As soon as it was, we would come.

When Jowan reported to hospital, they were a little grave about his arm. It needed special treatment and there might have to be an operation when he was considered fit to take it. In the meantime, there must be daily visits to the hospital and there would be no question of his rejoining his regiment just yet. I rejoiced in that.

Richard telephoned.

He had heard of Jowan’s return.

He said: “You were right. I never thought he would return. Are you happy now, Violetta?”

“Yes, Richard, I am.”

“Well, I must congratulate you.”

“Thank you.”

“I wish you great happiness and the best of luck. I hope everything goes well with you. If …” He paused for a few seconds. “If, any time, you need me … if I can help … just let me know.”

“Thank you, Richard, I will,” I said.