Chapter 29

29

brOWNSEA ISLAND – JUNE 1999

Rebekah gazed through the open window of her bedroom in Rose Cottage, across the pine tree stands, to the Isle of Purbeck and over Studland beach to Old Harry Rocks. The gentle breeze teased her hair and brought a welcome cool rush. She was standing as still as she could while her mum buttoned the back of her dress – forty pearl buttons, which, Mum had joked, was going to take Paul an age to unbutton later this evening.

Rebekah held up her left hand to the light and twisted the ruby and sapphire ring so that it caught the sunlight and twinkled.

‘There you are, all done,' said Helen as she smoothed the full, satin skirts of Rebekah's wedding gown and stood back to admire her beautiful daughter.

‘You look absolutely gorgeous, my darling. He's a lucky man,' she said, wiping a stray tear that had escaped.

‘Don't start that yet, Mum; we've got to get to the church first, at least.' Rebekah laughed. But yes, she thought as she looked in the floor-length mirror at the bride before her, Paul was a lucky man. He'd had his life plans turned upside down by tragedy when he'd lost his mother, and his chance meeting with Rebekah, who hadn't the smallest idea of ever looking for a man she might like to marry, had been the very thing they'd both needed.

And she was a blessed woman, too, Rebekah considered, fortunate to have not only a wonderful mum who had raised her, but an extra grandparent in Peggy who had inspired her to become a conservationist, and to travel to Poole – right here to Brownsea Island – the very place where she'd met Paul. She and Paul must have a guardian angel watching over them, and for her part, Rebekah was sure the angel's name was Margaret Symonds – the young woman who had become a skilled boatwoman for BOAC and undercover agent working for the British Government throughout the war.

Peggy had morphed in Rebekah's mind from the kindly, elderly neighbour she loved as much as her own mother, into a powerhouse of an undercover agent who'd risked her life while working to save the lives of others.

Rebekah had learnt from further discussions with Darrell that this Charlie was really Hans, a Dutchman who was believed to be a spy. She knew the history of the Dutch refugees who had been processed here on Brownsea but had never imagined someone so close to her had been part of any ensuing action. And now, when she watched the ferry crossing the harbour to Poole Quay, it was as if she could see the ghosts of the flying boats and Peggy's launch in the mists of the distance.

‘Sit on the bed, love, and I'll help you pop these pretty shoes on,' said Helen, bringing Rebekah back to the morning of her wedding day.

Waiting at the garden gate, the old hay wagon from the museum had been decorated with ivy and roses, and was hitched to the jeep that was operated by the rangers.

‘Oh, how pretty!' she cried when she saw the gorgeous decorations that had been created by her team at the island reception. Her mum stepped up into the wagon first, then helped Rebekah climb up and took care of the train of her dress.

Rebekah was surprised when they took the long way around and realised this was for her benefit – a good, long look at the island she loved and chance for all the day visitors and campers to wave to her as if she were a royal princess passing by in a parade.

At the church, the vicar was waiting at the door and greeted them with a broad grin and a wave, before ducking inside for a moment to tell Paul and the waiting guests that the bride had arrived.

Rebekah climbed down from the wagon and Helen arranged the train before giving her a kiss and going to take her seat in the church where Tim was waiting for her. Rebekah had chosen to walk independently into the church, and climbed the steps up to the church path and into the door from where she could hear one of their faithful volunteers playing the old reed organ for guests while they waited. The instrumental hymn came to an end and the vicar asked the congregation to stand for the bride's arrival.

Paul had organised for some of his London friends to play for the ceremony and Rebekah saw the string quartet raise their bows to play Pachelbel's Canon . She held her breath as the music began and Paul turned to watch her walk down the aisle and, from that moment on, all of the organising, the planning, the shopping, and the anticipation came to a sweet end and she felt she was floating on a calm sea, the colour of joy.

Later that afternoon, the bridal party and guests were all ferried via the Castello and the Enterprise to the Haven jetty, where a bus took them on the short trip down the peninsula to the Harbour Heights Hotel, the only possible venue that either Rebekah or Paul could imagine now they'd learnt so much about the history they'd discovered together.

Guests gathered around the bride and groom on the terrace for Champagne and photographs with the most stunning backdrop in the world: Brownsea Island and Poole Harbour. The wedding breakfast was served in the main dining room, and late in the evening, Paul and Rebekah held each other close as the music slowed, and the lights dimmed for their first dance together.

The next morning, Rebekah woke before Paul, and kissed him gently before slipping out of bed and over to the picture window, pulling back the heavy drapes to admire the view. The sun sparkled on the harbour, and she could see a light breeze playing with the tops of the trees on Brownsea. In the distance, there were some rain clouds over the Isle of Purbeck but Corfe Castle shone in a pool of sunlight, as it often did. Looking west towards Wareham and the river, she saw a few light clouds scuttling across the sky. It was going to be another beautiful day in paradise.

As Rebekah leant on the windowsill, she stared at the scene until her eyes grew misty, and she saw as if through to another time, another dimension, a harbour full of moored flying boats. A flotilla of Dutch boats was making its way in through the harbour entrance and around the southern side of Brownsea Island. A Sunderland flying boat in RAF trimmings came in to land near the base at Hamworthy. A smart launch boat raced from the quay to Salterns Marina, and out to one of the waiting flying boats. When the launch pulled away, the flying boat's propellers were already spinning, and it began to move forward, slowly at first, and then so fast that its stern was covered in sea spray until at last, it broke free of the water and rose up into the air with a roar like a million bumblebees and disappeared into the sky to the west.

Helen had unearthed an old card that Rebekah had received from Aunty Peggy on her twelfth birthday, and the message in it now seemed to say so much more than she had ever imagined it could mean. She kept it now in her own journal, and pulled it out to read the words again, though she knew them by heart.

For my darling girl, Rebekah,

May you live for your dreams, fight for those you love, and use your courage to change the world.

With all my love, Pig xxx