Badge of Glory (1982)

by Reeman, Douglas

  Blackwood saw Fynmore too, his wife standing nearby as the admiral greeted her with one of his set speeches. She was obviously a lot younger than Fynmore, a pretty little thing and outwardly very shy when he had met her at the landing-stage. She was very much in awe of her husband and impressed by the marines he had sent to welcome her and to transport her baggage to the colonel’s quarters. In the reflected lights her shoulders looked cool and youthful, he thought. The sort of wife who might do Fynmore’s future a lot of good.

  Harry pushed through the crowd and stared at the throng with distaste.

  ‘I shall steal away when I get the chance.’

  Blackwood watched him with surprise. Harry’s disappointment and impatience at the soul-destroying garrison duties had often found other outlets in his zest for women. Usually on these formal occasions he had managed to find someone’s wife or daughter who would enjoy his company and some of his daring remarks.

  ‘Don’t let the colonel see you.’ He smiled. ‘Have you met his wife, by the way?’

  Harry turned swiftly, his eyes searching. ‘Once, yes. Why?’

  Blackwood shrugged and signalled to one of the servants with a loaded tray.

  ‘Seems a shy sort of person.’

  He twisted round to pick up a glass. He must have had too much to drink without realizing it, but Harry sounded unusually guarded. He even looked guilty.

  Blackwood said quietly, ‘Well, pull yourself together, man, they’re coming over.’

  But when he looked round, Harry had been swallowed up in the crowd.

  Fynmore said crisply, ‘And of course you know my aide, Captain Blackwood.’ He watched as Blackwood took her gloved fingers and kissed them lightly. ‘My right arm, believe me.’

  Blackwood asked, ‘Have you settled down after your voyage, Ma’am?’

  He saw a small pulse pumping in her throat, the nervous movement of her breasts beneath her silk gown. Like a child at her first party, he thought. But there was something else. An elation, an excitement which she was trying to control.

  She said, ‘I was grateful for your presence at the harbour, Captain. All that noise and confusion.’ She flicked open her fan and waved it below her chin. ‘I find this heat very taxing.’

  Fynmore was peering round at the others and probably wanted all of them to see his young wife, Blackwood thought.

  She said, ‘Your brother, is he here?’ She put her head on one side. ‘You are not much like him.’

  Fynmore asked, ‘You know Lieutenant Blackwood?’ He frowned and nodded. ‘Yes, I remember vaguely. You met him at Woolwich, you told me.’ He smiled, satisfied with his memory.

  Blackwood cleared his throat. ‘We have the same father, Ma’am, that is all.’

  He looked around, his mind grappling with what he had unwittingly discovered. He must have been blind not to see Harry’s alarm when Fynmore had announced that his wife was coming to Malta. He had been so wrapped up in his own worries he had even forgotten what the adjutant had said about Fynmore’s house in Hampshire. It was suddenly stark and clear, so that even the orchestra seemed to fade as he recalled Harry’s casual mention of the letters he had forgotten to deliver to that house near the inn. His reluctance to speak about it afterwards. The bloody idiot.

  He calmed his thoughts with an effort and said, ‘He is somewhere in the building.’ He thought that Fynmore was watching him again. ‘Shall I fetch him?’

  Fynmore chuckled. ‘Certainly not. Let the young devil enjoy his freedom, eh? I know he can be an irritation to me, but with instruction he may make a fine officer one day.’

  It was the nearest thing to praise he had ever made, and yet Blackwood remained uneasy. Fynmore never said or did anything without a strong reason.

  His wife tossed her ringlets as if it was all of little importance.

  ‘I think I shall enjoy my stay here, Captain.’

  ‘I sincerely hope –’

  Blackwood stared transfixed as the admiral superintendent released the hand of another guest and turned to reveal the woman at his side.

  Fynmore exclaimed, ‘In God’s name, isn’t that the girl we saved, Blackwood?’

  Blackwood did not even notice the ‘we’. But for Fynmore he would have believed he was going insane or suffering another aftermath to his fever.

  He nodded, unable and unwilling to take his eyes from her. ‘It is, sir. Miss Seymour.’

  Fynmore’s wife turned and followed their glances. For a few seconds she showed irritation on her doll-like features, as if she resented the intrusion.

  She said, ‘Oh, that’s not her name, Rupert. She was aboard the packet too. With her husband, a doctor of some repute, I was told. Much older than she, but of course some of us prefer more experienced husbands.’

  Fynmore either ignored or failed to notice her tone.

  ‘Fine looking woman, in spite of everything, Blackwood.’

  Blackwood said nothing. Instead of the girl with the shining dark hair and demure gown he saw the one in that squalid hut, cut and bruised, and almost naked to the waist.

  In spite of everything. In those moments he hated Fynmore and his crude indifference.

  He heard himself say, ‘If you will excuse me . . .’

  He saw their interest sharpen as he made his way among the perspiring, colourful crowd until he was near to the stairway.

  If anything she was more beautiful than when he had seen her in London all that time ago. While her husband was speaking to the admiral she stood with and yet apart from them, her eyes downcast as if she was listening to what they were saying.

  But Blackwood could remember when he had first seen her aboard Audacious, a lifetime ago. She had been the same then, it was her defence.

  He heard the admiral say in his booming voice, ‘I wish you every success, Doctor Hadley. It is high time that our sick and wounded were treated with greater professional care than in the past.’ He chuckled and looked at the girl by his elbow. ‘Begging you pardon, Mrs Hadley, but in my early days at sea the work could have been done as well by the ship’s butcher!’

  Blackwood bunched his fists. She was almost close enough to touch. He must leave now before she saw him and was humiliated by his attention. She and her husband were probably taking passage by another ship very shortly. He would go right now.

  It was then that she looked up and stared directly into his eyes. As if she had felt him there, had known exactly where he would be.

  The admiral pivoted round on his heels, his bushy eyebrows set in a protective frown.

  ‘This is Captain Blackwood. One of our marine officers.’

  His eyes said go away, but the doctor asked quickly, ‘Aren’t you the one who . . . ?’

  He glanced at his wife and then back at Blackwood as she said quietly, ‘He is the one who saved my life.’

  The admiral beamed. ‘Bless my soul! Then I take back all I said about the marines.’ He sensed that he had spoken out of place and added, ‘You must join me later, Blackwood. When the masses have departed, what?’ He patted his scarlet sleeve. ‘Splendid, didn’t know about that.’

  As the admiral turned to greet another arrival Blackwood found himself tongue-tied and helpless. All he wanted to do was look at her, to hear her voice again, even though there was no hope for more. Instead he was facing her husband, a serious-faced man aged about forty with a studious manner and voice.

  ‘I have heard something of your exploits, er, Captain? My wife’s aunt, Lady Slade, mentioned you to me of course. I am really delighted to meet you at long last. I hope to be able to speak with you, away from all this.’ He seemed to dismiss the people around him. ‘I would find it most interesting.’

  She asked in the same level voice, ‘Have you been well, Captain Blackwood? I heard of your father’s illness, I was very distressed.’ Her eyes were steady and yet too bright as she added, ‘I never expected to see you here.’

  Blackwood looked at her and tried to sound as calm as she had done. It was difficult not
to study her from her dark hair to her clasped hands, to seek something lost, or which had never been.

  He replied, ‘I have been on Malta since my time in hospital, Ma’am. Sometimes I feel I have been here forever.’

  Doctor Hadley nodded thoughtfully. ‘A man of action, eh? In peacetime you must find life heavy on your hands.’

  Blackwood glanced at him and tried not to dislike him. He spoke as if he was conducting an experiment with a patient. But she had married him and so . . .

  She said, ‘My husband is on a government commission to look into the methods of after-care in military and naval hospitals.’

  The doctor waved a tray aside and asked for a glass of fruit juice. He said absently, ‘We shall be staying here at the medical inspector’s house while I carry out some tests at the Hospital of St Angelo.’

  Blackwood glanced quickly at her as the doctor’s fruit drink arrived. She would be on Malta. For a short time perhaps, but she would be here.

  He tried to sound matter of fact. ‘Yes, I see. Most of our sick and injured people go there.’

  He saw her hands gripping more tightly together and was suddenly disgusted with himself. She had made her choice and wanted only to forget her ordeal and avoid anyone who might bring it alive again.

  He said, ‘I should leave now.’

  He saw her sudden tension, the appeal in her violet eyes, and felt his heart begin to pound a warning. She did not want him to go.

  The doctor said, ‘I have just seen the fleet surgeon yonder. I would be obliged if you would remain with my wife until I have spoken with him. He can be very elusive, I’m told, when it comes to inspections within his realm.’

  The great hall could have been empty, the music and voices completely stilled.

  Blackwood said, ‘I have thought about you so much. Just now I imagined I was dreaming, even now I am not sure. You look so lovely . . .’ The words were flooding out of him and he could do nothing to contain them. ‘You have never been out of my thoughts.’

  She held up a fan and clasped it with both hands. ‘You must not speak like that! I implore you!’ Even as she spoke she studied his face, her eyes tender as she added, ‘Do not imagine I had forgotten you. But things have changed. You must see that? I cannot bear to see you hurt.’

  ‘Hurt?’ He touched her wrist and then held it, feeling her warmth, seeing the response in her eyes. ‘I would risk far more than that. Anything.’ He lowered his voice, ‘May I see you again?’

  She glanced away and he saw her breasts moving quickly as she tried to remain calm.

  ‘Do you mean alone?’

  ‘I have to see you. To talk. It may be the last chance.’

  She faced him again but her composure was gone.

  ‘This is madness. I do not know what to say, what you expect of me. I am a married woman.’ She hesitated, as if aware of what she had just said. It had sounded like a defence, an admission. ‘We go on to Cairo after this.’

  He gripped her hands in his. ‘Please. I will not be a nuisance, I promise.’

  She looked up at him and smiled for the first time. ‘You could never be that.’ Her hands slipped away as she lowered her fan to her waist.

  Doctor Hadley rejoined them and said, ‘Another job done.’ He glanced at each of them in turn. ‘You must have a lot of memories to discuss, eh?’ But he was humming quietly to himself as if the question was merely put out of politeness.

  Blackwood gave a bow. ‘I look forward to our meeting at the admiral’s table later on.’ He released her gloved hand and stepped back. ‘Until then.’

  He pushed into the crowd and walked halfway across the hall before he knew what he was doing.

  She was so right. It was madness. But it was one which left him helpless. Like a ship without a rudder at the mercy of a relentless gale.

  He realized he had reached one of the balconies again and stood by the balustrade, drawing deep breaths while he relived each precious second.

  In one corner of the hall Fynmore watched Blackwood’s behaviour and then said, ‘I shall have to keep an eye on him. I’ll not have the good name of my command jeopardized. He is one of my trusted officers, and she’s a married woman. I had a feeling about those two before. It won’t damn well do!’

  She lowered her eyes and hid a smile. ‘Of course not, dearest. If you say so.’

  18

  Gesture of Hope

  The hospital of St Angelo was a quiet, secluded place, in spite of the island’s bustle which surrounded it. There were winding, tree-lined paths and a garden which was tended by convalescent soldiers and sailors under the eye of one of the resident nuns. It seemed to have a peaceful effect on the inmates, and as Blackwood walked along one of the paths he found it hard to picture some of them as roistering, hard-drinking servicemen.

  She was waiting by a stone bench, a place which they had come to regard as their special meeting-place, even though Blackwood had only visited the hospital twice before.

  They sat down in a deep patch of shade and looked directly in front of them as if ashamed of what they were doing.

  She said quietly, ‘It was good of you to come, Philip.’

  The use of his name had come naturally and without reservation, as if they both knew it had been decreed by fate.

  Blackwood watched one of the nuns sail past like a ship of the line in her head-dress and pale habit. What did they think about these meetings, he wondered?

  He said, ‘I wish we could see each other every day. All day.’

  He felt her turn, and when he faced her he saw the sadness in her eyes.

  ‘I must tell you. My husband has finished his work here. We sail for Cairo on Wednesday.’

  He had been expecting it. But as the days had lengthened into weeks and he had managed to meet her in spite of all the difficulties, he had somehow put the inevitable aside.

  ‘I had hoped . . .’ He took one of her hands and pressed it to his cheek. ‘I was wrong to hope, and now I have hurt you.’

  She shook her head and smiled. ‘That you have not. I have got to know more about myself than I believed possible because of you. I cannot bear the thought of our parting.’ Her lip quivered. ‘Of losing you.’

  When he tried to speak she squeezed his hand. ‘No, you must hear me. I married Paul because I had known him for a long while, he was one of my father’s proteges when I was still at school. After what happened in Africa, I did not know, did not dare to look for love in any man.’ She lifted her eyes and made herself say, ‘Now I know. You were really the one. But I could not risk destroying both of us.’

  Blackwood thought suddenly of Lady Slade’s voice in that quiet London house. You will end up with a broken heart.

  ‘I thought that Paul would be different. He is much older than I am and the gap between us seemed more so then in other ways. I needed to lose myself, and to do that I thought I might help him in his work as I had once helped my father.’

  The air shook to the sullen rumble of gunfire and she held his hand more tightly while her other hand touched her breast.

  He watched her profile, the sudden alarm in her eyes.

  ‘It is all right, Davern.’

  He listened to the regular crash of a gun salute and recalled that a new man-of-war was due to arrive from England.

  He asked, ‘Is he a bad husband to you? If so . . .’

  She stared at him and shook her head. ‘He is neither bad nor good. He is interested in me.’

  Blackwood thought of his manner at the admiral superintendent’s reception. Cool and interested. She was right.

  ‘Anyway.’ She played with his hand, her skin warm against his fingers. ‘It must not be your concern.’ She looked away. ‘I wish I had had your courage when I most needed it. I know now you might have understood, have helped me. But I dared not risk it after what you did to save my life.’

  She tore her hand away and walked to a low wall and stared at the overlapping white buildings and towers.

  Across h
er shoulder she said huskily, ‘You never once asked, did you? You knew they’d raped me, but not once did your eyes ask what was it like? What did they do to you?’

  She almost fell as he seized her and pulled her against him.

  ‘Oh, how I wish I’d died that day!’

  Blackwood held her without speaking. He let it pour out of her unchecked, knowing it might help, understanding at last what she had been enduring ever since he had freed her.

  And all this time she had lived with her secret, and now that she had told him it was too late.

  He raised her chin very gently and brushed some hair from her eyes.

  ‘All I know is that I love you. To lose you now is unthinkable.’

  He kept seeing her husband, questioning her, persisting about the details when he should have been helping her forget.

  A nun, her hands thrust inside her wide sleeves, hurried along the path and then paused to peer at them.

  ‘Your husband has just come from the admiral’s residence, Mrs Hadley.’ She bobbed and added, ‘Good day to you, Captain Blackwood.’

  Blackwood watched her as she vanished around the next bend.

  ‘Bless her. Our guardian angel.’

  But she gripped his arm and said fiercely, ‘Go now. I have caused enough. I’ll not see your reputation in ruins too.’

  He held her again and felt her tremble as they came together. It was like hanging to a thread when your life depended on it. A rough word or thoughtless move and it would all change to ashes.

  ‘Listen to me. I want you. Do you understand? I cannot face losing you.’ He slipped his hand around her waist and pulled her more tightly against his body. ‘We are meant for each other. Perhaps we were made to suffer before we could find this love.’

  Very carefully and reluctantly he released her, watching her eyes, the way she was looking at him as she fought against her own reactions.

  Then she said, ‘Please kiss me, Philip.’

  He felt her arms wrap around his neck as they touched mouths and then kissed. Blackwood had no idea how long they stayed embraced or if anyone passed by on the path. Her mouth told him without words that it was a gesture of desperate hope and nothing more. A realization of something wonderful which would soon slip away.