For Those Who Are Lost Read online

  “She knows you’re safe and she’ll be coming for you soon,” Lily answered. She could feel the girl begin to tremble in her arms. It was unexpected yet pleasant. She had the urge to smooth the girl’s hair. Instead, she pulled her closer as the bus lurched into motion.

  A scream rippled through the air, and Lily looked out the window in time to see Mrs. Simon waving her arms, trying to get the bus to stop. Lily caught her breath. The driver, however, neither saw nor heard her cries, and the bus began to rumble down the road, heading for the harbor.

  Guernsey was an island of particular beauty, Lily always felt, a gem sparkling in the sea, secreted away and known only to a few due to its remote location in the English Channel between England and France. As the bus trundled down the quiet lanes, she clutched the child on her lap and took in the beauty of an island summer for the final time. Wildflowers were abloom all around them. Giant echiums and wild orchids, which had reared their heads in May, still swayed in the breeze along with the bluebells of June. Her favorites, however, were the bog pimpernels that flowered in the middle of summer. A few of the bright pink blossoms could already be seen peeping through the fields as they passed. It gave Lily a feeling of comfort in this uncertain time.

  She would never come back, she knew. As much as she loved Guernsey, she would never live with Ian again in his house on the hill or have the chance to say goodbye to her parents or friends. She would miss her family and the island, but the rest of her life was ahead of her, and her breath caught in anticipation. The few times she had ventured abroad were infrequent trips to Jersey, which was situated between Guernsey and the coast of France, and a honeymoon trip to Paris five years earlier, a time when life held more promise than had proven to be true.

  She came from a small family on the north side of her island, and her childhood had been perfect, as far as she was concerned. Along with her younger brother and sister, she had grown up on a farm and enjoyed a good life: indulgent parents, the freedom to explore fields and streams, afternoons spent on empty beaches collecting shells and the odd treasures that washed onto the shore. She fed apples to small donkeys and voraciously devoured books, often under the shade of the trees on the far side of the barn. Her love of reading made her a good student, and she always did well in school.

  The island was small enough to be insular but large enough for anonymity should one wish it—twenty-five square miles of hills and fields and beaches, divided into ten parishes. One could walk it end to end in a day. Though the population exceeded forty thousand, people tended to congregate in groups dictated by their church, schools, class, and occupations. Lily had been one of those people who had enjoyed a quiet rural life in Torteval on the western coast until she had married Ian, when they had moved to Saint Peter Port on the eastern coast, elevating her not only from rural to city life but to a different class and station as well.

  Although her childhood had been idyllic, adulthood had been less so: a broken heart followed by a whirlwind courtship with Ian; losing her brother, Tom, in the war; an unhappy, violent marriage. Her mind was set on escape. But she wouldn’t allow herself to dwell on the past.

  The only thing that mattered was getting to England safely. Then she could start over. The women and children on the bus were all as anxious as she; to a person, each was lost in their thoughts, wondering where this long and difficult day would end.

  2

  Lily

  Saint Peter Port had never been more crowded than it was that afternoon. Ships and boats of all sizes filled the harbor, but it was clear that many of the people waiting to get aboard one of the vessels would have to wait another day. Lily was determined not to be one of those people. She kept a close eye on Henry, telling him to stay near, as she pulled her suitcase behind her and kept Catherine clutched to her side. She had always been a rule-abiding person in the past, but if she hesitated, all hope of getting aboard one of the ships would be lost. Pushing through the crowd, she ignored looks and complaints from some of the others who said they were in line. As far as she could see, there was nowhere to queue, only a sea of women and children clustered on the quay and piers.

  “Good boy,” she told Henry, relieved that he had the strength to keep up with her, although she knew that even if he didn’t want to follow her, he wouldn’t abandon his sister. They were in a helpless position.

  Elbowing her way through countless others, she finally stopped when they were close to the pier. She couldn’t see who was in charge or what was being done, but they daren’t sit or try to rest or someone would push past them. No one appeared to be in charge as hundreds of young women and children waited for a chance to board. Once on the pier, her hopes began to surge. There were at least seventy people in front of her but still hundreds behind. She set her sights on one of the larger ships, where there would be seats and a more comfortable means of travel, but as they made their way to the front of the line, a cattle barge pulled up, and they were forced to climb aboard.

  Lily stood with the children on the deck, willing the journey to begin. Neither Henry nor Catherine cried, and Lily was certain it was due to shock. Even she didn’t know what to expect. Every familiar thing that had made up their lives would soon be a speck on the horizon, the unknown looming ahead of them across a seemingly endless channel.

  Henry took hold of her sleeve to get her attention.

  “I’m hungry,” he said.

  Lily looked down at Catherine, who nodded solemnly in agreement.

  “Did you bring anything to eat?” Lily asked.

  There was certainly nothing to feed them on the barge, and she hadn’t even thought of food in her haste to leave home.

  When he shrugged, she lifted one of the children’s bags and found an apple inside. She found one in the other as well. Shining them on the cuff of her sleeve, she gave one to each of them. Then she dragged their bags to a cargo area and lifted Henry and Catherine onto one of the large wooden crates. She took off her coat and laid it on the crate next to them and sat down, still clutching her handbag.

  The wind whipped around them, gulls squawking overhead. The barge was unsteady, captive to the battering waves, making it difficult to stand. It was hot on the water, and Lily fanned herself with a handkerchief as the sun beat down on their heads. She looked about at the women and children who climbed aboard, some with suitcases and bags and others who hadn’t taken the time to pack in their desperation to secure passage on one of the boats. It was a relief when one of the crew members untied the rope and they began to float away from the dock. Henry leaned forward, watching as the barge began to move. Catherine, clearly frightened, leaned into her instinctively for comfort.

  Everyone turned when they heard a shout and watched someone jump off the pier into the water, swimming toward them. He tried to pull himself up the side but couldn’t quite make it. Two of the crew members went over and hauled him up onto the barge, and he stood there, drenched but smiling, a boy of no more than fifteen. He turned to wave to his friends who had been left behind.

  “I made it!” he shouted. “We’re bound for Jolly Olde England, mates!”

  “How far is it?” Henry asked, looking at Lily with concern.

  “I’m afraid I don’t know,” she answered. “Let’s try to get comfortable.”

  They spent more than two interminable hours at sea. Occasionally, infants or toddlers let out a cry, but the majority of the two hundred passengers squeezed onto the barge were silent, huddling against one another to buffer against the wind and waiting and wondering what would happen next. A few times, a child got sick over the edge of the boat. Henry and Catherine clung to each other, and eventually the girl fell asleep with her head on Lily’s lap.

  Lily took out her umbrella to shade the child from the harsh midday sun, thinking about what she had done. In a few short hours, Ian would come home to an empty house, unaware that she had left him. She had drawn into her shell after their last major row and had been quiet in recent weeks as she mulled her options. She couldn’t go home to her parents. Ian wouldn’t allow it. He was poised to take a role in the government, and a divorce would damage his political ambitions. Her parents wouldn’t take her in anyway. Her mother had made it clear that once a woman became a wife, it was her duty to obey her husband and accept her responsibilities to care for her family and her house, regardless of domestic struggles. In any case, they couldn’t take on an additional burden. Both of her parents had become shadows of their former selves after her brother died and were having difficulty running the farm on their own. Helen still lived at home and contributed her income to keeping up the household and her energy to taking care of the chores the best she could, but Lily knew it was a losing proposition. They would be forced to sell the farm and move into a smaller house in Saint Peter Port before long, a move that would demoralize them even further. They had anticipated marrying off their pretty daughters to wealthy young men and leaving the farm to Tom. Lily knew she would be giving them another disappointment, but she couldn’t stay in her marriage for another day, not even for her parents.

  She would miss her beautiful white house with its red tile roof and matching red front door, which, to a girl who had grown up on a farm, was the most marvelous home she had ever seen. Even five years after moving in, she hadn’t gotten used to its size and comforts. It wasn’t as grand as some in Saint Peter Port, like Hauteville House, the enormous white mansion where Victor Hugo penned Les Misérables during his exile from France after calling Napoleon a traitor, but it was grand nonetheless. She and Ian employed a cook and gardeners and a maid to manage its upkeep, allowing Lily the singular role of mistress of the house. It was a role she had managed to keep up for years.

&n
bsp; The funds hidden in the velvet bag were sizable but not enough to last forever. She would eventually have to find work and a place to live, depending on her wits and abilities to see her through. At first, she thought of going to London, but the crowded city of millions would be intimidating for a woman used to life on a quiet island. However, she had a plan in mind, a destination more suited to her personality and situation.

  At long last, Weymouth came into view. She folded the umbrella, staring out at the activity on the pier and the vessels crowded around it as they drew closer to the bustling port. Another ship ahead of them was debarking passengers, and they had to wait their turn.

  “Wake up, Catherine,” Lily said, gently lifting the child off her lap.

  Lily’s legs were stiff from sitting for too long. She had begun to think they would never go ashore. Although she had not been to England, the port had a reassuring familiarity about it. She knew little of Dorset or anywhere on the southern coast of England other than what she had read in Thomas Hardy books, but Weymouth, teeming with hundreds of newly arrived passengers, looked much the same as the port at home.

  She rose to get a better look, watching the boats jockey for position near the pier. It was a good half hour before the barge eventually docked. This time, Lily held back to avoid the anxious crush of bodies struggling to make their way to solid ground. Her objective had been reached: making it safely to England. When the crowd thinned out, she gave the children’s bags to Henry and took Catherine by the hand.

  “Stay with me,” she told him.

  They joined the line of people waiting to disembark. She spotted policemen on the pier below, directing tired women and children to join lines of others walking in the direction of town. With no other idea of what to do, they followed behind. Lily maintained some distance between them and the others so the children wouldn’t be jostled any more than she could help. They were led down a half dozen roads until they reached a large building and were ushered inside. She felt a moment’s trepidation at the entrance, but there was nowhere else to go.

  Inside, a large common room was filled with tables set up all around, stations for various services to be performed. They stepped closer to get a better look.

  “Look!” she said to Henry. “They have food for us.”

  Volunteers handed out fat sandwiches of bread and jam, along with cups of water and milk.

  The sea air had made them hungry, and they each took a sandwich and ate it in a few bites. Henry finished his first, and Lily broke off part of hers and gave it to him. She had no idea when they might eat again.

  After the sandwiches, which left her desperately wishing for a mug of tea, they were directed to another room. The children were put into lines to be inspected for lice and other medical issues. Lily held their belongings and waited with them, keeping an eye on Catherine in particular.

  “Child’s name, please,” the woman instructed when they finally reached the table, nodding at the boy.

  “Henry Simon,” Lily stated, watching as his name was written on the card.

  “Parents’ names?” the woman continued.

  Lily looked at Henry. “What is your mother’s name?”

  “Ave,” he replied, shrugging.

  “Better make that Mrs. Simon of Guernsey,” Lily supplied, having no idea what name he was trying to say. “He went to Saint Martins School near Saint Peter Port if that helps.”

  “And the girl?” the woman asked. “Is she his sibling?”

  “Yes,” answered Lily. “Her name is Catherine.”

  The children were asked to remove their clothing down to their undergarments, and Lily waited as they underwent the requisite inspection. She watched the doctor look into their ears and noses, running his fingers through their scalps with cotton gloves, inspecting them for lice, listening for the possibility of mucus in their lungs. It would have been an indignity for anyone to be so exposed, but certainly for hungry, tired children. After they were given back their clothing, Lily helped them get dressed, buttoning buttons and tying Henry’s belt around his narrow waist.

  “Go on through to the next room,” the nurse instructed.

  They gathered their things and went through the doorway, where a policeman had stepped up to speak to the small crowd.

  “Gather ’round!” he shouted, stepping onto a crate to address them all. “We’re taking groups of ten or so at a time to get you onto trains this evening. You’ll be brought to places where people can take care of you.”

  Henry moved closer to Lily, obviously frightened. There had been too many changes in a single day for such a young boy. All the children looked about nervously. People gathered their belongings and began to file through the door where another policeman stood, directing them to the station.

  They trudged through the town, Lily’s case becoming heavier with every step. Catherine began to cry and wanted to be carried, but Lily couldn’t manage it. Instead, she gripped the child’s hand tighter.

  “Come on, Catherine,” she said, trying to soothe her. “It won’t be much longer now.”

  It was nearly four o’clock, and they were already getting hungry again. Lily hoped there would be something more substantial provided to them soon. Eventually, they made it to the station.

  Inside, they were surrounded by a sea of bodies, children crying and screaming to make themselves heard over the din of the trains. Teachers were frustrated and tired, barely managing their tired charges. Catherine clung to her, afraid of the commotion. Lily put her arms around the child, trying to shield her from the pushing and shoving of the crowd. It was too much for any of them to deal with after what they had already been through. Lily felt lost. She could only imagine how a four-year-old was feeling after such a miserable day.

  A short woman with spectacles approached them when they entered the station. “Are you one of the teachers from Guernsey?”

  “Yes,” she replied. It was easier than trying to explain her situation.

  “You’ll be on that train there,” the woman said, holding out an envelope. “Give these tickets to the porter.”

  “Where is this train headed?” Lily asked.

  “This is the line to Manchester, ma’am,” she answered before briskly moving along.

  Lily clutched her handbag to her chest, considering her options. She had been good at geography in school, and Manchester, she knew, was in the north of England. That was not where she wanted to go. It was a dark, dirty industrial town by all accounts. Some of the children who were sent there would probably be moved to smaller villages in the countryside, where they could get fresh air and have a wholesome place to shelter during the occupation. But others might not be so lucky, leaving an island paradise for a smoke-filled, grimy city.

  They inched their way forward toward the train, which would carry its passengers through the night and where they would once again be without food or a comfortable place to rest after a long journey. Lily thought for a moment about Helen, glad her sister hadn’t decided to come. It was too much of an emotional toll, dealing with so many crying, hungry children with nothing to sustain them but jam and a few crusts of bread. Heaven knew what was waiting for them in Manchester. Some might even be put on another train at dawn, headed toward the unknown.

  Taking a step forward, Lily’s heart began to pound. She couldn’t get on that train. It would mean her escape had been for nothing. Looking down at Henry and Catherine, she tried to work out what to do. All she wanted was to leave the station and find a hotel where she could get her thoughts together after the tumultuous day. She had left her husband, her family, and the only life she had ever known. She hadn’t thought far enough ahead to realize that it would mean accompanying small children to their eventual destinations and waiting out the war.

  She turned to look at one of the teachers behind her, who was standing with a group of young boys.

  “What will happen when the train arrives in Manchester?” she asked.

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” the woman answered, shifting her suitcase. She glanced down at Catherine and then gave her a sympathetic smile. “But I suppose they’ll put the young ones like her in one place, and the older ones will go to some sort of school.”