“Rubbish!” Rankin was halfway to oblivion. “Don’t you
read the bloody papers? We’re all heroes!”
Wingate said, “Leave it, Guns.” To Keyes he added,
“What’s the trouble?”
“I had hoped to see Georgina.” He kept his voice down. “She didn’t seem to remember.”
Wingate made a decision. One he might regret later. “What a damned idiot I am!” He fumbled with his wallet and dragged it through his sling. “She gave me her card to hand you, and I completely forgot!” He pushed it into the boy’s hand. “Here, look for yourself. She even put her phone number for you, how about that?”
Keyes turned the card over and said quietly, “Georgina.
Georgina Dare.”
Wingate swallowed. “Yes. A nice name.”
He wished the bloody steward would come quickly. What with Keyes’ gratitude and Rankin’s owlish stare, he knew he needed another drink very badly.
Keyes looked up. “Do you have a girl, Pilot?”
Wingate sighed. “I’m not much use like this, am I. With a cracked arm?”
Rankin smiled toothily. “S ‘right, Pilot. As a gentleman, you would always take the weight on your elbows, of course!”
Wingate grinned. “Get stuffed.”
In another corner Sheridan was talking to the doctor, his back towards the others.
Vaughan was saying, “I must say that I never thought I’d see this country again.”
Sheridan swirled his half-empty glass round and round. “It’s incredible. They’re all relics. All of them.”
“Who?” It was a mild question, but behind the glasses Vaughan’s eyes were very sharp.
“Well, look for yourself, Doc.” He waved the glass towards the noisy throng. “The pilot, the chief, certainly the old man.” He looked at the crest. “The ship most of all.”
“But not you, Number One. You’ve managed to stay free of, er, becoming a relic?”
“I’ve been a part of this sort of war, too. But I think you should try and keep your own personality. Stay clear of sentiment if you can.”
“Sentiment, or do you mean just caring?”
“Don’t you start, for God’s sake!”
Vaughan gave a small smile. “I’m only a quack. I leave the heroics to my betters. And talking of which … ” He placed his glass on a table. “I have been watching that Wren. I think it’s about time I moved in, so to speak.” He eased through the nearest bodies and confronted her.
Sheridan sighed. The doctor had not touched his drink at all. He stared round the crowded wardroom. God, it would be impossible to get rid of this lot. It would be the first dog watch before they had lunch at this rate.
He wanted to be on his own. To decide what to do. He had been to Drummond’s quarters the moment the two senior officers had left the ship. An hour ago. Both of them had been pretty merry. Drummond had seemed much as usual, as far as he could tell.
Drummond had told him about plans for leave, docking and duties while the ship was having repairs carried out. Matter-offact, almost remote in his manner.
Sheridan had blurted out suddenly, “The newspaper report, sir. You see what Captain Beaumont has done, don’t you? He’s taken all the credit for himself!”
Drummond had stood up, patting his pockets as if looking for something.
“If you try to bring discredit on a senior officer, Number One, the chances are you’ll bring it more on those you care about. Waxwing’s people, all the rest who were killed. Press even harder, and nobody will believe anything. They might even start to think the whole raid was a fake. Would you like that?”
Sheridan could remember very clearly the expression on Drummond’s face at that moment. Like a man burning up inside. Being driven to the limit. Not knowing what to do.
He had said, “Well, I think it’s wrong, sir.”
Drummond had not seemed to hear. “The raid was a success. Seen in a dispassionate, cool-headed way, it was a complete success. More than anyone could have hoped. And the casualties? Considering that the numbers involved, directly and otherwise, were many, our losses were minimal. “
“You don’t believe that, sir?”
Drummond had picked up his pipe and tapped the stem on the desk.
“There was a carrier put at our disposal with, presumably, some escorts. How many’s that? Two thousand people? There were the oilers, the submarine, airmen, and probably hundreds of others who were working to make our task a success. Against those numbers, our losses must be seen as small.” He had looked round the cabin, his face strangely sad. “I think you once implied that this ship was expendable, too?” He had slumped down, the pipe unlit. “But it hardly concerns you. Now that you are applying for transfer.”
It had been like a slap in the face. A dismissal.
He had said, “I need to decide, sir. All I ask-“
Drummond had swept papers from his desk and upended some glasses as he had shouted, “All Iask is for you to leave me alone!”
Someone touched his arm. It was Galbraith, almost unrecognisable in his best uniform. He smiled.
“I’m off, Number One. Home to the wife, if she’ll have me!” He glanced at the others. “When I saw the leave list, I thought I’d not stop to waste a second. There’ll be enough work to do when I return. Putting right all the things the dockyard tiffies have done.” He held out his hand. “So long. I guess you’ll be in another ship when my leave’s up.” He walked away, nodding to Wingate and Rankin.
Sheridan clenched his fists. They had written him off already. They had never even taken to him in the first place.
He saw Noakes, the gunner (T), squat and sweating freely, swilling drinks as if his life depended on it. He was surrounded by willing listeners. Sheridan felt lost. Bitter. Even Noakes was enjoying himself.
Rankin drawled thickly, “Still here, Number One?”
“What the hell d’you mean by that?”
Several visitors fell silent and stared at him.
Wingate said sharply, “Guns is not in our orbit. Just ignore him.” He looked round to make sure the interest had gone elsewhere and added, “Anyway, I’d have thought you’d be sharing a bottle with the skipper. It’s customary, and after what you’ve just shared with him, it’s even necessary!”
“He doesn’t need me.” He thought of Drummond’s angry eyes. “Or anybody.”
Wingate shrugged. “If you say so.”
Sheridan murmured quietly, “I know that some of my ideas have been unpopular since I took over as number one. I didn’t fit in. Even you were a bit peeved by a reservist being appointed over your head, right?”
Wingate put down his glass and took Sheridan’s elbow. Outside the wardroom door he said evenly, “I can’t move my arm, as you know. It saves me from being court-martialled for punching your face through the back of your stupid neck!” He swayed slightly but regarded him calmly. “You still don’t understand, do you? You came aboard Warlock believing that you had been done out of promotion because of the enquiry into Conqueror’s loss. Victimisation, scapegoat, and what you just said about reservists. It never occurred to you at all that your last captain was letting you down as gently as he knew how, did it?”
Sheridan said coldly, “In what way?”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. ” Wingate drew a deep breath. ”” I’he fact is, Number One, you’re-not bloody well good enough for command!” He hurried on before Sheridan could speak. “When that shell hit the ship, and I got thrown across the bridge like a lump of pusser’s duff, my last recognisable thought was, Please don’t let the skipper have bought it! I just knew you’d never get us out of that mess, nor any other!” He stood back, his eyes blazing. “Your last C.O. knew you weren’t able to hold down command. Sooner or later you’d have believed someone had it in for you again, God help you.”
Sheridan replied angrily, “That was quite a speech.”
“I did warn you. Now I’ll go and get drunk, if you’ll
excuse me.” He paused by the door. “Your predecessor in this ship was pretty useless. Nice bloke, but not up to the job. The skipper carried him, because they were good friends. And there were other reasons. When you came aboard, I thought, Here comes a stranger, one who might be able to help share the load.” He looked at Sheridan with contempt. “God, it’s like telling the pack to carry the mule!”
The green curtain swirled across the door, deadening the voices, and leaving Sheridan alone.
Drummond closed the door of the operations room behind him and stood uncertainly in a long passageway. Wrens hurried back and forth with signals and mysterious packages. Officers of every shape, size and rank bustled past him. Even here i Rosyth, Drummond had that same feeling he had known in the Whitehall bunker. That the H.Q. war, wherever it was, would continue with the same vigour without any ships at all..
He straightened his new cap and saw two Wrens watching him, whispering behind their papers.
He smiled, and one of them said, “We saw your ships coming under the Forth Bridge, sir. It was all lovely!”
The other said, “But they were so knocked about. So small looking. “
He nodded. “They felt a bit small at times, too.” Another voice said, “Hero-worship, how terrible!”
He turned and saw her standing in an open door. She was smiling at him, but her face was like a beautiful mask. He crossed the passage and held her arm.
“It’s good to see you. I never know where I’m going to see you next.”
She pulled him into the empty office and slammed the door. For a long moment she studied him, her smile gone, her eyes brittle with tears.
“Oh, Keith!” She threw herself against him, burying her face on his chest. “What have they done to you?”
He held her tightly, unable to think, to speak. He only knew that they were together. It was real. Not some sustaining dream to make a man do the impossible. She needed him almost as muchh as he did her.
She said softly, “When I saw you just now. Your face. I couldn’t believe that you could hide such feelings from those around you. All day. Every time you appear before your men. You must appear perfect. A man without fear or feelings.”
He held her more tightly.
“Don’t. It’s all right really. I’m all right now.”
She eased herself away and looked up at him.
“Oh, yes.” She tried to smile. “I can see that.”
He released her hands and said, ” Warlock’s going into dock tomorrow. I’ll have to be nearby. In case anything goes wrong with her.”
She moved her head from side to side.
Her mouth was moist as she said, “I could hate that ship, if I didn’t know I could never compete with her in your heart.”
He continued, “I want you near me. If you’d like it, that is…”
“Like it?”
She stepped towards him and put her hands against his face. They were very warm.
There were voices in the passageway. There was no more time.
. He said urgently, “Edinburgh. There used to be a good hotel … “
The voices were getting closer. She lifted herself on her toes and kissed him on the mouth.
“Do it, Keith. I can get away from work.” She pushed her face on to his shoulder, hiding it from him. “Don’t think badly of me. But I want you all to myself. ” She gripped his neck with both arms. “Just us.”
The door opened and a bespectacled clerk asked awkwardly, “Is it all right to come in?”
She turned to the window, dabbing her face with a small handkerchief.
“Yes. Of course. I was just asking the commander a few questions. “
She could not keep it up, and when she faced him he saw that she was smiling at him. Really smiling this time.
God, I love you. He said, “I’ll call you then.”
She tried to be serious. “You do that, sir.”
Drummond nodded to the astonished clerk and left the room. She hurried after him and caught his arm.
“You’ve got lipstick on your face.” She was laughing and crying at the same time. “No naval officer worth his salt can walk about like that!” She rubbed his face with her handkerchief. “And don’t you go off with any of those Wrens either! A ship is bad enough, but I’ll scratch their eyes out if they start anything. “
He held on to her wrist. “Sarah. Oh, Sarah.”
She nodded, a tear started down her cheek. “I know, Keith. I know. But it will be all right. ” She touched the back of his hand. “I’ll make it so.”
When Drummond reached the main doorway he looked back. She had gone, but he could still see her.
She stood just inside the wide doorway and looked slowly around the room, as if unwilling to break the spell.
As the hotel porter shut the door she exclaimed, “It’s huge! How did you manage it?”
“Rank has some privileges.”
He put her small case by the bed and crossed to the windows. It was getting dark, but the rain had stopped, leaving only streamers of black cloud across the first small stars. Below, in Princes Street, the traffic sounds seemed a long way off, the cars groping like little moles, trying to get home before blackout.
He turned and looked at her. Against the big door, the room’s air of a past, extravagant age, she seemed frail, like a child. She had changed into a dress which he had not seen before, and was watching him soundlessly, her arms limp at her sides.
She said suddenly, “Oh, Keith, I’m almost afraid to believe it’s true.”
He smiled. “I think the hotel nearly changed its mind about giving us the room. It’s very respectable.” He walked to her and held her against him. “But I liked the look of it. Commander
and Mrs. Liruniniond. “
Together they walked to the bed. It was high off the floor. Massive. She tightened her grip on his hand.
“I feel like Emma Hamilton!”
There was a discreet tap on the door and a servant peered in at them.
“Will you fix the blackout curtains, sir, or will I?” He looked at the girl. “Does, er, Mrs. Drummond have everything she needs?”
Drummond gave him ten shillings. “Yes to both questions, thank you.”
He waited until they were alone. “I expect they’ve seen our ration cards already. “
She pulled herself up, her arms around his neck. “I don’t care. Not about anything.”
He sat her on the bed and opened his case.
She laughed. “Champagne!”
“I told you. Rank.” He grinned, sharing her excitement. Feeling his mind melt with each of her movements, her voice. “Actually, Owles got it from somewhere. I didn’t ask.”
Owles had packed it carefully in a piece of oilskin, blurred with moisture and ice-cold. He had said, “Do you good, sir. This and a spot of leaf.”
“He sounds nice.”
She followed him into the bathroom where he rummaged for two glasses.
He answered, “Like a mother to me. Most of the time.”
The cork made a cheerful sound, and for a long time they stood by the window between the curtains, watching the shadows, unwilling to speak.
Then she said, “I don’t want you to think that I
He replied gravely, “I think you are beautiful. I think I will try to make you love me.” He held his glass against hers. “As I do you.”
She would not look at him. “Cheers.” It was all she could manage.
She added, “I could get to like champagne.” She looked at her case. “I want to go to bed.”
He said, “I have to telephone the dockyard.” He grimaced. “I’ll be ten minutes.” There was a telephone beside the bed. “Be as quick as I can.”
He walked down the stairs and around the busy lobby, seeing nothing. He was barely aware of the many uniforms, the atmosphere of escape and gaiety. A holding on to a past which would never be the same again.
When he returned to the room the bedside light was on. She was in
the centre of the bed. Her eyes were on his face as he sat on the blankets, her lips moist in the small yellow glow.
He said quietly, “You look lovely. I wish I could give you more. Everything.”
She kept her eyes on his as he pulled down the sheet, tensed as his hands moved around her pale, uplifted breasts and across the smooth skin of her belly. He saw that her fingers were bunched into tight fists at her sides, saw the fierce pumping of her heart beneath one curved breast, beating to match his own.
He threw his clothes blindly on the floor and made to turn off the light, but she said huskily, “No. Let me see you, too. Please.”
They came together slowly at first. All sound was blotted out by their hearts and blood, all vision obscured but each other.
Still and still he tried to prolong it, seeing the urgency in her eyes, the way her body was trembling as he knelt above her, feeling the soft smoothness of her in the space she had offered between her knees.
She gasped, “Now! Keith, now!”
He touched her, raised her to him, and then felt her lifting, arching her spine to draw herself even further around him.
It was pain and darkness, ecstacy and passion, which left them breathless and spent. Like a single being. A piece of living sculpture.
Later, as he switched off the light and moved from the bed, he knew she was awake, watching him as he opened the curtains and let the hazy moonlight explore their private world.
He saw her, her pale limbs almost silver in the strange light. He returned to the bed, stroking her, feeling her coming alive again, sensing her longing, his own immediate response.
She sat beside him, pushing him back on the bed, her voice muffled in lost words as she bent across him. It was like another perfect torment. Her hands, her mouth, her whole being were
everywhere, until once more they were spent.
When she leaned above him she saw that he was at last asleep, his legs relaxed, his breathing regular and untroubled. Gently she smoothed his hair from his face and then took one of his hands, watching to make certain she had not awakened him.
She held the hand against her breast and said simply, “Sleep, my darling. I am here.”
The Destroyers Page 26
