The German Numbers Woman

by Alan Sillitoe

  He felt the sea in him, dark layers overlapping, folding into his night space, neutral and causing no fear. ‘What does the sky look like?’

  ‘Almost clear, a few whiffs of cirrus, though we’re bound to hit the arse end of the front sooner or later. I’ll pop this into the chief. He won’t be happy, but at least he’ll know.’

  Howard asked what was being chopped.

  ‘Pineapples,’ Judy said.

  ‘I could smell it.’

  ‘I’m doing it on a plate so that I can pour all the juice off for you.’

  Ted slid a tray of scones in the oven. ‘What about the rest of us?’

  ‘Get lost,’ she said, but with a smile. ‘He’s my man on this voyage. Anyway, you’ll still have some fruit. There’ll be a share for everybody.’

  ‘Howard’s a lucky man, to have someone like you so sweet on him.’

  ‘Of course I am. He put me to sleep first night on board with his magic touch, and I didn’t wake for twelve hours. Brought me back to life.’ She touched Howard’s arm. ‘No more insomnia, right?’

  He wasn’t only hearing her voice from nearby, or coming into the box of his earphones, but the affectionate squeeze meant they were closer than any dream had promised. For some reason she liked him, and his heart was like a drum about to burst at the same rich tone, as rich for him as when she had talked to Carla. He caught hold of the table, fearing he was about to fall.

  She held him again. ‘Don’t get too close to the stove.’

  Ted laughed. ‘Yeh, we don’t need you for dinner.’

  She passed a glass of the juice. ‘A reward, for putting me to sleep.’

  ‘It wasn’t so much to do. I’d rather wake you up though, so that you would see the world twice as plainly as you do now.’

  Ted put the slices onto a platter, and took it to the bridge. She stopped in her work. ‘That sounds like something I need, so I want it, but I can’t see it happening. I mean, how could it?’

  ‘For a start, I’d tell you not to bother with your lover anymore. She’s not waiting for you.’

  ‘How do you know she’s my lover?’

  ‘The tone of your voice. Whoever she is, she’s not good enough. You deserve someone who would go to the end of the earth and over the edge for you.’

  Each word was followed by regret that he had been stupid enough to say it. He’d even known he was going to before he had. The words spilled, they were in him and always had been, and wouldn’t be wished back. No stopping had been possible because only in that way could he get directly to how he felt, though it had been plain on first hearing her voice. Words that came were his alone. ‘I’m the only person who can make you see. Even though my eyes went bang a long time ago, you’d be a lot better off using what’s left so as to sharpen yours. I could show you how to get the best of what’s in you.’ He couldn’t see her, whatever claims were made, had to shape a picture, his skin burning with the effort.

  He talked as if they had been close for years, yet she had been on board little more than a day. ‘What are you saying? I wonder if you know.’

  She was playing at surprise, though her tone was regretful because she wasn’t able to take on his mood. She closed her eyes, as if to find out what it was like being blind, and on opening them he had gone.

  The radio was tuned to the frequency on which he had first heard her, as if part of her former self might come back and talk to him, an exercise to dull the pain of having spoken so brashly. Yet he couldn’t feel ashamed, having nothing to lose. I can say what I like. Happiness was never out of place when you spoke with the honesty of youth.

  She stood behind him. ‘You’re a funny bloke. I was frightened you might walk overboard. Well, not really. I only hoped I hadn’t offended you in some way. You’re special. Here, you forgot to finish your pineapple juice.’

  He drank, the elixir of love whatever happened. ‘This is my first long boat trip, so maybe it’s going to my head. I function best at the radio, keeping my mouth shut, letting it do the talking for me.’

  ‘I don’t mind it, when you talk to me. Not many people have, not properly. It doesn’t matter what you say. I love to hear you taking morse, though. It’s like magic. Maybe I’ll go to college and become a radio officer. They have women doing it on ships now. I could send a message.’

  ‘I wouldn’t even need to type it,’ he said. ‘Your voice would come through with the dots and dashes, and I’d know your “fist”. The message would have to be a short one, not more than a few words, because it isn’t allowed, to send private telegrams.’

  ‘A short one would be all I’d need. I’d be happy, tapping to you.’ She held his hand, bent down and kissed him on the cheek. ‘If I did become a radio officer I’d keep myself to myself. I’d be mysterious and quiet, and wouldn’t get off with any of the other officers. I’d look very nice in my uniform. But I’d have a peaceful life, which is all I’ve ever wanted. I can’t tell you how tired I am.’ She laughed: ‘And I don’t mean sleepy!’

  The exhaustion was similar to his own. ‘I knew it the other night.’

  ‘Only you could. Not that I ever show it. I’m paid not to.’

  The boat was small enough, but even the largest ship would be seen as small from the moon. ‘It’s turning rougher.’

  ‘Does it bother you?’

  ‘It’s no surprise. I took the forecast.’ He didn’t care how aggressive the sea became now that she was on board, but stopped himself saying so. Gusts exploded around them, one bang after another as the boat cut over and through the waves. ‘All hatches battened, though it shouldn’t last long.’

  ‘I’ll see if Ted needs help in the galley.’ She kissed him again. ‘Have a nap. You look done in as well.’

  ‘I’ll get my head down for half an hour.’

  The sweaty pillow felt like the purest down, his blanket a linen sheet, but sleep wouldn’t draw him in. The boat was duck-and-draking on its homeward bound, a caged animal trying to break free, but from what and to where? Sleep in any case was a waste of life. Thoughts were pointlessly tormenting. However mocking wind and buffeting water were produced, the intertial dynamo behind them couldn’t drive out Judy’s presence. Poignant visions of the boat subsiding into the salty waste didn’t alarm him, since they would go down together, though he couldn’t say why she should pay the final price for his schemings. He only knew it was hard to imagine reaching land again, because what would he do when he got there? A curtain fell on every scene magicked up by his fevered mind.

  Richard took the wheel. The boat seemed alive as it rode one sliding wave after another, up the green silk of a slope then over and through the horizon of white-green foam. Waistcoat came close: ‘I can’t think I was born for this.’

  ‘We’ve been in worse.’ Cloud was low and ragged but: ‘Visibility’s not too bad. A tanker over there.’ He passed the binoculars. ‘North-north-west. Take a look.’

  ‘Where’s he going?’

  ‘Coming from Venezuela, I should think. He’ll be up Channel before us. I don’t suppose he even sees us.’

  The glasses were handed back. ‘We can hardly hitch a lift, with what we’ve got on board.’

  ‘We’re not exactly lagging behind.’

  ‘I’ve made enough in this game to get into the airline business. I’m fed up, messing in boats, up to my neck in this shit every time. I’ll get myself a Boeing, then we can jet the stuff in in crates. Three hours in the air instead of a week in a motorised bucket. There must be plenty of pilots out of a job.’

  ‘Sounds a good idea,’ glad to see him quietened by thinking on something positive. But he came close again: ‘I’m still worried about that blind bastard.’

  ‘How come?’

  ‘You brought him on board so that he would keep his mouth shut, right?’

  ‘If I remember. You told me to.’

  ‘It don’t much matter now. But what’s he going to say when he gets ashore? I mean, is he safe?’

  ‘As safe as any
of us. Safer, maybe, if that’s possible.’ He was far in front of Waistcoat’s drift, as maybe he was meant to be. ‘He’s been useful, and still can be. A bob or two at paying-off time, and he’s in it as deep as the rest of us.’

  ‘I expect he will be. But I’m worried, and I don’t like to be worried. When I’m worried I feel nagged at, so I want to do something about what’s worrying me. Even when I was a kid I didn’t like to be worried. I worried a lot when I was a kid. Would the old man come in and try to break my arm again? Would there be anything on the table when I got back home and hadn’t been able to half-inch a thing? Had anybody seen me when I snatched the wallet? Every minute of the day and night I worried, so I said that when I grew up I wouldn’t let anything worry me.’

  ‘What is it, then, Chief?’ Scud said, in from the rain and drek.

  Waistcoat pushed by on his way back to the cabin. ‘Mind your own fucking business.’

  ‘Bad tempered,’ Scud said, ‘but who can blame him?’

  ‘He’s worried about Howard.’

  ‘He would be, wouldn’t he? If it wasn’t Howard it’d be one of us. He does worry when he’s got nothing on his plate. That’s when you’ve got to be careful, because it means “watch out”. He always picks on somebody, and it seems it’s poor bloody Howard this time. It’s too dangerous to get onto any of us. If he did he might wake up one morning and find he’d got no ear to put an earring in when he goes on the town with his boyfriend. Or he might trip himself up when he goes on deck, and fall into the drink, and nobody’ll give him a helping hand back on board because he’s been misbehaving. They’d kick his face in and push him back under, like he’d do with any of us if we gave him half a chance.’ He rolled a perfect cigarette, in spite of the rocking. ‘What’s he got against Howard, anyway?’

  Richard took the boat over another glassy escarpment. ‘He thinks he might blab when he gets ashore.’

  ‘He’s off his trolley.’

  ‘He doesn’t trust him.’

  ‘Howard mystifies him, that’s why. Howard’s the sort he likes to hate. You’ve got to be careful.’

  ‘What would you do?’ Richard asked.

  ‘Watch the blind chap every minute you’ve got.’

  ‘I can’t. Will you keep an eye on him as well?’

  Scud thought about it. ‘Put it like this. If I saw he was about to come to harm I’d do what I could. But it don’t look like he’ll be needing either of us, not with that Judy around. She’s stuck on him, seems to think he’s got something. It’s just as well.’

  ‘That should take care of it, then.’

  ‘I expect so. But you never know with Waistcoat,’ Scud said. ‘I’ll have a word with the others. Mr Cleaver’s only interested in number one, but I expect Jack will understand.’

  ‘The thing was, I promised Howard’s wife I’d get him back safe. If he goes overboard we’ll all be for the high jump. I can only suppose the chief knows as much.’

  ‘You never can tell. He’d just say he fell, and get us to say the same. We’d have to fall into line to save our necks. But he’d only do such a thing to Howard if he really went off his head, and I don’t think he’d do that because there’d be too much to lose. Just tell Howard to give him a wide berth, though it’s not easy on a pea green boat like this.’

  Richard felt relieved at having put the notion around. Everyone’s future depended on the safety of a blind man who – and in many ways it was strange – bound them together as a crew. But if Waistcoat was worried then so was he. Unlike the others Waistcoat never worried without good reason. He’s got something on Howard that I don’t know about, Richard thought, or he has proof of what some would only suspect. He thinks Howard’s jeopardised the trip.

  Richard had been uneasy since Howard first proposed coming with them – more like a stipulation. The idea that he was a mole from Interpol, however, was laughable, yet one he couldn’t stop popping into his head. Howard had known from the start who they were and what they were going to do, so it was inconceivable that he would do anything to short circuit the trip, especially as a paid up member of the crew unless – a revelation to ice the blood – he had guessed about his fling with Laura.

  Perhaps from some stupid notion of marital openness she had told him. There was so much about her he would never fathom that it was easy to imagine her spilling out details of their meetings, with that glassy stare of unreality lighting her up after they had made love. Such a confession would give a little more life to the deadness that was in her, and so Howard, having no other way to get his own back, either on his wife for unnecessarily tormenting him, or on someone who was supposed to be his friend, decided to let it come down, and had found a way to inform on the pick-up before they set out, had arranged a neat little ambush at wherever they landed up-Channel.

  Fantasy was running him off. If Laura had talked, Howard would have shown by now that he knew. No man could keep that kind of blow to himself. But if suspicion of treachery goes through my mind, Richard’s thoughts went, why should it not lodge in Waistcoat’s as well, at least sufficiently to make him wonder. Neither he nor anyone on the boat needed a real reason for distrust – if it was felt strongly enough. When intuition pointed to a rat, motives followed, and among so few people, quartered in a space of wood that became smaller the longer they were on it, and in so large an ocean, a darker cloud was generated than any swirling across the sky.

  ‘I’ll take over.’ Cleaver, wrapped in a hood and oilskins, came in from his turn about the deck. Pipe smoke spread smells of burning kipper over the bridge. ‘You look all in.’

  ‘Nothing one of Ted’s fry-ups won’t cure.’

  ‘Ah,’ he exclaimed, ‘it’s good to be on a happy ship, even though the chief is off his head again. He’s going like a demon at the bottle, pacing up and down the state room. I saw him through the window.’

  ‘Maybe he’ll wear a hole in the carpet, if he walks for long enough, and slide down into the briny.’

  ‘Perfect,’ Cleaver said. ‘But it’d take all of us down as well. I wouldn’t like to share hell with the likes of him.’

  ‘I was going to have a chat with him, but maybe I’ll leave it till he calms down.’

  ‘Take longer than that, I should think,’ he puffed. ‘Give him a day or two. Wait till he’s all fair and square in that little pink paradise he’s got fixed up in Harley Street.’

  Darkness brought isolation, talk minimal, but Howard was never without human noise, either voice or morse. On upper shortwave he heard navigation warnings from Karachi, good to know life went on beyond their world, and he the only one who had firm evidence of it. Warship and anti-aircraft practice was announced, coordinates given where firing with live ammunition was to happen, all craft told to stay clear of the danger zone.

  Judy read over his shoulder, and wished they were sailing near Karachi. ‘I’d be on the sun deck getting a tan, and looking forward to a nice hot curry when we landed.’

  ‘Have you been that way?’

  ‘No. One day I hope. Would you like to go?’

  With you I would. ‘Maybe I will.’

  ‘You have a funny way of speaking, as if you see too much to use words. You jump your phrases a bit. I like it. I never know what you’re going to say till you say it, not like everybody else.’

  ‘Do I fascinate you, then?’

  ‘Utterly, you old thing!’

  He laughed. ‘I suppose I might, being so much older. You’ve seen more of the world than I have, yet you think I’m wiser in some way. Well, I don’t see it like that.’ He paused, then went on. ‘Did I tell you I was in Boston a few months ago? It’s a nice place. I liked it. Went for a holiday. I’d rather be there than near Karachi, to tell the truth.’

  He felt a shock run through. ‘Eh! I know Boston. I have relations there. I’ve stayed often.’

  ‘Maybe I was looking for you.’

  ‘There you go again, jumping ahead. I wasn’t there, though, was I?’

  ‘You
might have been.’

  ‘Oh, right. You make me think it would have been nice if I had.’

  ‘Walking with your girlfriend – and I would have been taken by your voice as you talked to her.’ He enjoyed going close enough to be found out, felt excitement in them both. ‘We wouldn’t have got to know each other, but I’d have felt a thrill as you passed by.’

  ‘I wanted to take my friend to Boston, but we never made it. I’m beginning to think I’m more in love with her than she is with me. It’s flippin’ amazing how often it’s been like that in my life.’

  ‘Great natures make big mistakes – if mistakes they are.’

  ‘I wish I could talk to her. Have you got shortwave in all this gear?’

  ‘There’s the transmitter. My fingers have been figuring it out. How close are we, do you think?’

  ‘She might be near Spain. Close to Corunna, perhaps.’

  ‘The day after tomorrow you could try. If she was listening you’d get her loud and clear, but the chief would have us thrown overboard if he caught us using a transmitter.’

  She stretched back on the seat, and he wondered, not for the first time, if her kindness was only because she wanted to get at the transmitter. He would be glad enough to help, would at least have the privilege of being remembered by her. ‘You can try if you like. It’s nothing special.’

  ‘To me it would be.’

  She wanted to know why. So did he, the blind leading the unblind, he thought drawing her close. ‘I’m satisfied if I can do something for you.’

  ‘I’m not sure I’m worth it.’

  ‘Who is? Yet everyone is. Best not to ask, unless you want me to say I’m in love with you. I hope it doesn’t strike you as strange. Imagine I’m not blind.’

  She couldn’t keep away from him, that much he knew. When there was no work in the galley she would come to find out what he was doing, wanting to talk, and hear what he had to say. ‘I do,’ she said. ‘I’ve got used to you, even in so short a time. I feel something for you; though I don’t know what. I don’t want to know. There’s just something good about being with you.’ She put her arms around him, lips kissing his. He smelled her hair, the fresh trace of perfume, felt her breasts against him, close bodies providing solace for them both.