An Ocean of White Wings by Barbara Spencer

Author:Barbara Spencer [Spencer, Barbara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781838593315
Published: 2020-03-13T16:00:00+00:00

The staff car pulled sharply to a halt next to the gate and, at the precise moment, as if they had been watching its progress through the window, M. and Mme Meijer came out onto the steps of the porch. Tatania, still in her nightdress, was by her aunt’s side, her doll clutched in her free hand.

Behind the car, the truck screeched to a halt and soldiers with dogs jumped down. Yöst from his hiding place deep in the willows heard the goat bleat out an alarm call, then the sound of their boots hitting the ground, and the baying of dogs as they were unleashed.

It would be a waste of time, he knew that. They might unearth a badger or two, nothing more. There had been people, a few weeks back, but they were long gone. Mostly young men, wanting to fight, who were looking for a way to cross the narrow stretch of sea to reach the island kingdom, still offering resistance.

Two officers had alighted from the car, the soldier sitting alongside the driver opening the rear door for them. He saluted, bellowing loudly, ‘We want to search your house.’ The sound was hectoring, certain of compliance.

Startled, M. Meijer stepped back a pace.

Ignoring the soldier, the officer, his skin pale against the black of his peaked cap, strolled up the path towards them. ‘Who lives here?’ The request was couched quite softly, as if his rank gave him an absolute right to be heard. After the bullying tones of the soldier, it was a moment or two before M. Meijer reacted.

‘I’m Albert Meijer,’ he coughed the words into life. ‘This is my wife and my granddaughter.’

‘May we see round your house,’ the officer repeated and clicked his heels in a salute. Without waiting for a reply, he mounted the steps and, after neatly wiping his feet, led the way inside. He flicked his fingers at the soldier following, directing him towards the bedrooms. A third man, of lesser rank according to the flashes on his collar, waited by the door.

Conscious of an awakening sense of familiarity, M. Meijer timidly followed the gaunt figure of the officer into his own living room. Not the face, nor the hair, which was short and fair, nevertheless something lingered … something he had seen before.

The soldier’s boots clattered on the wooden boards creating a slight echo. The memory flooded back, hearing again the clatter of the fisherman’s boots on the outhouse floor close … so close … to where the three children were hiding. Trying to disguise a shiver, M. Meijer flinched back and shut his eyes.

He opened them again as the soldier clicked his heels and saluted. ‘Kapitein? All clear.’

‘We have met before, Meneer?’

M. Meijer heard the words as a question rather than a statement. ‘I don’t think so.’ He caught his wife’s glance, encouraging him to be strong.

‘You have always lived here?’ The officer stood watching from the window, drumming his fingers on the sill.

‘I was born in the city.’ M.

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