“How long after that did the Germans arrive?”
“Jacqueline was two and a half. I remember taking her and the others to buy ice cream one afternoon, and hearing gunfire on the mainland. That was the day they invaded France. I used to lie awake at night, panicking about what we’d do if they came to Guernsey. I had this terrible fantasy about killing Maurice and saying the Germans had done it. That’s how much I hated him.” She closed her eyes. “Listen to me, saying a thing like that in a place like this.”
“I don’t think anyone would blame you for thinking it,” I said. “It must have been torture, having to go on living with him.”
Merle opened her eyes. “It was. When the announcement came on the radio that we had to get the children off the island, I couldn’t pack fast enough. Maurice said he had to stay behind to look after the farm—but we both knew that wasn’t the real reason. I expect he moved Ruby in the minute we stepped on that boat.”
“Did you know Cousin Jack?” I asked. “Before the evacuation, I mean? Is that why you came here?”
“No, I’d never met him before. It was like Dunkirk—yachts and motorboats and fishing trawlers—all kinds of people, just wanting to help. None of us knew where we’d end up—we were just glad to get away.”
A sudden loud creak made us both turn our heads. Danielle came running up the nave. “Jacqueline’s fallen off the swing,” she panted. “She’s hurt her hand.”
Merle raced out to the churchyard. I hurried after her, my injured foot not yet sufficiently recovered to run. Louis and Ned were kneeling beside Jacqueline, who lay facedown on one of the graves, sobbing.
“She fell on that.” Danielle pointed to a gravestone that had toppled over and split in half, its jagged edges half-hidden in the grass.
“Oh, love! Show me what you’ve done.” Merle dropped down onto the grass. “Which hand did you hurt?”
“It’s this one.” Louis pointed to his sister’s right thumb, which was bent away from the hand at an alarming angle.
“Can you sit up for me?” Merle slipped her arm under Jacqueline’s head and tried to turn her onto her back, but the child cried out in pain.
“I think she’s dislocated her thumb,” I said. “Would you like me to look at it?”
Merle looked up, her face pale. She nodded. Her lips were pressed together as if she didn’t trust herself to speak.
“I’ll be as gentle as I can.” I lifted the hand at the wrist. There was a cut in the fleshy part of the palm, but not much blood. The child cried out again as I placed my own thumb on the base of hers. “I’m just going to make this better, Jacqueline. It won’t take a second, I promise.” With my other hand, I grasped the top joint of the injured thumb and gave a swift, hard pull. The popping sound it made as it slipped back into place was drowned out by Jacqueline’s scream.
“She’ll be fine now,” I said, turning to Merle as I released my grip. “It’ll be tender for a while, but all she needs is a sticking plaster on that cut.”
We’d just got Jacqueline sitting up when Brock came hurtling across the churchyard. Jack wasn’t far behind. He came running across the grass when he saw us.
“What’s happened, Mrs. Durand? Is she all right?”
He sounded strangely formal, compared to the way he always spoke to me. And yet Merle had been living under his roof for nearly three years.
“She fell off the swing and dislocated her thumb.” Merle gave him a weak smile. “But your cousin fixed it.”
He looked at me, his face unreadable. Then he crouched down beside Jacqueline. “It sounds as if you’ve been a very brave girl.” He took a sixpence from the pocket of his shirt and handed it to her. Then he turned to Merle. “I came to find you because we’ve had a group of new arrivals out of the blue. Could Alice and Danielle look after Jacqueline?”
I glanced at Merle. She looked tense. I wondered why Jack couldn’t deal with these new people without her help.
“Is that all right?” she asked me.
“Yes, of course,” I said.
“I won’t be long, love.” She stroked Jacqueline’s hair, then stood up.
As I watched her disappear into the trees with Jack, I saw him raise his hand. I thought it came to rest, momentarily, on Merle’s back. But I wasn’t certain. It might have been a trick of the light—the dappled shadows of leaves moving as the breeze lifted them. I glanced at Danielle. Had she noticed it, too? It seemed unlikely—she and Louis had their arms hooked around their little sister, trying to scoop her up off the ground.