He leans down and gently kisses me on the lips. I’m sure he meant to leave it at that but I’ve had enough pussy footing around – It’s time to get this show on the road so to speak. So putting my arm around his neck, I hold his head down to mine and allow the kiss to deepen. He responds with satisfying enthusiasm; his mouth is warm and firm (and more importantly he doesn’t stick his tongue right down my throat). For a brief time we actually forget where we are (well Rob definitely does – it’s left to me to gently disentangle myself and step back.)
I make an effort to act a little blasé about the encounter but my heart’s beating ten to the dozen belying my outward calm. I feel like I’m 18 again – can’t remember the last time I made out in a car park.
The pub is warm and cosy with a welcoming open fire even though it’s not yet November. I seat myself in a secluded corner while Rob goes to the bar to order drinks and grab a menu.
There’s a warm glow in the pit of my stomach that has nothing to do with the log fire
The next 2 hours pass in what seems like a couple of seconds. Rob tells me about the break-up of his marriage, his son and the difficulties of being separated from him by hundreds of miles. I tell him about my divorce and how my daughters and sister kept me sane over the darkest period of my life.
I feel like I’ve known him for years.
All too soon we have to leave. As I fall back into the dinky toy (with slightly more panache it has to be said), I’m wondering (a) what the likelihood is of the relationship going anywhere and (b) if it does, what my chances are of persuading him to swap the car for something a little less like a big yellow roller skate – a bubble car will do, just as long as I can get in and out of it).
As we arrive back at the College, he discreetly parks right at the end of the top car park showing that he’s not completely insensitive (ok it’s further to walk but I’m less likely to be the subject of countless dits for the rest of the term!) Before we begin the extracting procedure, Rob leans over and kisses me again and yep, it’s official, the tingling is most definitely still there.
As Rob walks me back to The Corridor entrance, he tells me that he’s spending the rest of this week preparing the cadets in St Vincent Squadron for The Visit and then next week he’s up on Dartmoor for ABLE (remember bleak inhospitable Leadership Exercise ...) I enthusiastically tell him that I’ll see him up there and briefly recount the reason why. For some reason he seems to find the idea highly amusing. I resist the idea of walking off in a huff (The Corridor is so not the place to flounce) but make it clear that I find his hilarity slightly offensive. He sobers up acceptably quickly but there is a suspicion of a grin lurking under the serious demeanour.
“Well, it wasn’t what I had in mind for a possible second date,” He says ruefully, “But you never know, we might get to meet up over a nice patch of peat bog and grab a cup of coffee while admiring the view. However, on the off chance that we don’t actually get the opportunity for such a romantic assignation, can I give you a call when I get back – maybe for dinner?”
He wants to see me again...
Makes me want to do things to him that have nothing to do with hitting.
“I’d pick dinner over a peat bog any time.” I respond with a smile, “So you can call me anyway.”
Then I turn my back and walk slowly up The Corridor using my perfected Marilyn Monroe walk (really effective in this skirt…)
I don’t hear the door open and close until I reach the stairs!
1730 Have spent the rest of the afternoon putting the finishing tweaks to my speech. The Language School has been blissfully quiet as the International Cadets have been given the afternoon to begin preparing for International Day (think their enthusiasm is more because they’ve been excused from Wednesday afternoon sports).
I’m finding it pretty difficult to concentrate. Silly car or no silly car, I’m beginning to realise that Rob is seriously getting under my skin and the prospect scares the pants off me.
I glance down at Nelson snoring away at my feet. “You’ve been the only man in my life for so long mate,” I murmur, bending down to scratch his tummy. “I’m not sure I know how to let another one in.”
His unsympathetic response is to break wind – loudly. Maybe I was a bit too rough on his stomach (very glad it’s after five so little likelihood of anyone coming into the office).
1735 While it might have been effective in putting an end to my brooding, the smell is so bad it drives even me out of the office and I decide it’s time to go home.
Think I’ll take Nelson for a bit of walk before we get into the car though, could well slip into a coma if he lets rip with another one of those while we’re in the ferry queue.
Thursday 15 October
0730 In the office bright and early to make sure everything English Language related is under control ready for The Visit. I’ve left Nelson at home with my mum today (for obvious reasons). An arrangement he’s perfectly happy with (for obvious reasons).
The College is a whirl of activity. Prince Andrew is due to arrive by helicopter at 11am. He is scheduled to meet and greet The Commodore first, then he’ll have a quick chat with the cadets standing to attention on the parade ground before being introduced to the other movers and shakers (in order of importance I assume - funnily enough I’m not in that part of the programme).
My moment of fame (or shame) will come when he’s escorted on to the Quarterdeck to have a look at the Internationals. Then it’s on to meet a (select) few of the British cadets before being whisked away for lunch at the Commodore’s house.
I have been briefed fully on how I should greet his Royalness. Apparently when first introduced, I am to say “Your Royal Highness,” while executing a small curtsy (have been practicing in front of the mirror…) Thereafter, I’m to address him as ‘Sir’.
0800 We have a quick staff meeting to check that everything is going according to plan. The teachers will also be on the Quarterdeck ‘supervising’ the English Language students (not actually very sure whether that’s a good thing – must have a private word with Samantha that under no circumstances is she to get her ball out!)
Feeling a bit sick.
1030 No time for Stand Easy today; I’m just about to head down to the Quarterdeck to take up my place. As far as we’re aware the helicopter is on route with no delays.
Just got time to touch up my make-up and give a final check in the mirror to ensure I look ok.
I start at the top. Hair looks good (in a French plait again by necessity – I put so much hairspray in yesterday that I looked like the wild woman of Borneo when I got out of bed this morning).
Eye make-up subtle to blend in with my dark red lipstick – really making a statement today, (about what I’m not entirely sure, but the lipstick looks good and goes with my outfit).
Black fitted suit with dark red edging - slightly oriental in style (complete with a side split in the long skirt – sexy but restrained).
And on my feet, simple black courts (with a sensible 2½” heel – really don’t want to go arse over tit on the Quarterdeck today…)
I pin my name badge in a prominent position on the front of my suit and I’m ready to go. Then, picking up my speech (and my reading glasses) I head down stairs towards stardom or infamy.
God I could murder a glass of wine...
1040 I wander around the various displays positioned around the edge of the Quarterdeck. I’m pleased to note that all the International cadets really have gone to town, showing an obvious pride in their respective countries. It actually brings a lump to my throat. They all look so much younger than their British counterparts.
A number of British cadets are stationed around the Quarterdeck looking extremely uncomfortable in their dress uniforms and obviously wishing that they could be in comfortable anonymity outside on the parade ground with the rest of the Cadets who are waiting to greet the Prince as he arrives.
Suddenly we hear the noise of the helicopter. I glance down
at my watch – 1056 – and marvel at the perfect timing that always seems to accompany Royal events such as these.
Have I got time for a wee? The noise of the helicopter increases indicating that its landing is imminent and I decide that my bladder will just have to wait. I put my hand in front of my mouth and breathe out quickly checking for bad breath (not that I think I’ll get that close but if I’m going to be remembered over this, I don’t want it to be for halitosis...)
1105 I’m standing next to Commander NTE near the entrance to the Quarterdeck as we wait for the Prince to finish greeting the cadets outside followed by the College PTB. My heart is beginning to slam a bit harder in my chest and I’m clutching my speech in a death grip.
Really really beginning to feel sick and really really really need the toilet!
1120 We can hear the party coming up the steps from the parade ground lead by the Commodore. I practice my curtsy while reciting ‘Your Royal Highness’ under my breath. Commander NTE is looking infuriatingly cool and at ease – obviously he’s done this before.
The Commodore appears at the entrance to the Quarterdeck with Prince Andrew next to him. I notice that the latter is in full naval uniform and they both pause and come to attention (all naval officers are required to salute on entry to the Quarterdeck of a ship – never really asked why).
Then the Commodore guides the Prince towards our little party. To my immense relief, Commander NTE steps forward to greet him and I resist the urge to hide behind his back. Instead I plaster a big smile on my face and wait for my turn (still reciting ‘Your Royal Highness’ in my head – beginning to think I’ll be saying it in my sleep tonight).
All too quickly the Commander NTE turns towards me and I step forward and start to curtsy. I’m just about to say the words, when Prince Andrew speaks.
I freeze in mid curtsy. What am I supposed to do now? I haven’t got my ‘Your Royal Highness’ in. I straighten up and make to bob down once more. Again we both speak at the same time. Pretty soon I’m bobbing up and down like a duck in a mud puddle while my voice keeps saying “Your Roya...,” like some kind of mechanical toy gone wrong.
To make things worse, Prince Andrew is looking directly at my chest. I know it’s because he didn’t catch my name (why oh why did I put my name badge there?)
My face now resembles a tomato, I know that only a few seconds have elapsed but it feels like hours. Please can somebody just put me out of my misery?
The Commodore comes to my rescue by repeating my name and giving the Prince a short rundown of my duties in the College.
As I listen to the Commodore speak I resist the urge to kiss him and gather my scattered wits together.
Result? I’m actually able to respond to the Duke’s interested questions without appearing to be suffering from a rare form of Tourette’s syndrome.
After giving the Prince a rundown on the different nationalities currently studying at BRNC, I lead him to the first display stand (with the Kuwait Navy – devious I know but you always start with the best you’ve got).
After chatting for a few moments with a couple of the International cadets, Prince Andrew says “Your English is very good.” And my heart swells with pride – until I hear the response...
“So is yours Sir.”
I laugh a little too loudly while fighting the urge to clout the speaker over the head as I gratefully relinquish the Prince to look around the rest of the displays before speaking with individual British cadets.
I feel like I’ve run a marathon and I haven’t even done my speech yet. I glance over and see The Prince standing next to our resident Royal who is bowing enthusiastically with a huge smile on his face.
My heart sinks. Strategic withdrawal seems like the best option and I flee to the toilet.
My bladder relieved, I sit for a moment in the quiet of the toilet stall wondering if I could just stay here for the rest of the day! I pick up my speech and glasses from the toilet floor where I’d plonked them (I know, yuk but I really was desperate) and, taking advantage of the silence, I read through words again and begin to feel my confidence slowly seep back. I really believe that what I do is important and you know what? I’m good at it, and in just a few moments I’m going to prove it.
1130 This is it. My moment. I actually feel strangely calm as I listen to the Commodore speak briefly about the importance of Officer Training at the College. Distantly I note that Prince Andrew is paying close attention to the Commodore’s words and then I hear my name.
Taking a deep breath, I step forward.
“Your Royal Highness.” (At least I’ve got to say it once!) “Sirs, Ma’ams, Ladies and Gentlemen...
I go on to speak about the vital role that Defence Diplomacy plays in cultivating allies in these uncertain times and the unique function that International Training plays within such complicated global relations (see, I can do serious and intellectual). I then emphasize the importance of maintaining Britain’s influence on the world stage and the necessity of being able to actually see the big picture (especially aimed at the British cadets who get frustrated with their Arabic counterparts).
I wrap up by reiterating just how difficult it is for young international cadets to leave their countries (often for the first time) and undertake what is widely considered some of the most exacting military training in the world – in a language that is not their own.
As I finish, I’m rewarded with a smattering of applause (which includes Prince Andrew – yey) and I step back carefully (can’t see where I’m treading and really don’t think a backward somersault would add anything to the occasion!)
The Prince exits the Quarterdeck, and to my delight he stops and congratulates me on my speech, going on to say how lucky BRNC is to have someone working at the College who is so passionate about their job. (I resist the urge to look behind me to see who he’s talking about.)
And just like that I’m a triumph. It’s obviously only a matter of time before I’m invited to chat to Oprah. Maybe I should get an agent...
But first things first – I need a glass of wine…
Before heading to the Wardroom I go over to have a chat with the International cadets and give them a well deserved pat on the back (BZ in Navy speak). To a man they have risen to the challenge (and without any staying on board threats either). I feel a surge of pride and wonder whether I should give them the afternoon off as a reward. Then I look over at HRH’s cheerful but baffled expression and stifle the impulse...
I decide to let them go for lunch early instead!
1200 Ok I’m ready to hold court (or at least have a drink bought for me). I fully intend to make the most of my fame and fortune (particularly as I know that everyone will have forgotten about it by tomorrow).
To my surprise (and delight) it turns out that Rob was on the Quarterdeck and witness to my oratory triumph! I bask unashamedly in the warm admiration evident in his eyes while flirting outrageously with my horde of fans (ok, so maybe not quite a horde, but there are at least half a dozen).
Think I’ll definitely treat myself to some chips for lunch...
1420 Am back in the office and still on cloud nine. I feel as though I could take on the whole world (to be fair though, that could just be the second glass of wine). Prince Andrew is due to leave in 10 minutes and the whole College is assembling on the parade ground to see him off (obviously giving the helicopter a wide berth – a few headless cadets on a Royal visit would no doubt be considered very bad form). I grab my coat and head outside. The teachers are already in situ with our International cadets lined up behind them. We’re pretty much on the periphery this time. I sigh – it looks as though I’ve had my 5 minutes of fame.
1430 Prince Andrew comes out at 1430 on the dot. He makes a quick speech at the top of the steps (mostly drowned out by the helicopter noise it has to be said but I’m sure it was very deep and meaningful). Then he climbs on board and is whisked away.
It’s all over...
And with no major casua
lties. A couple of sprained ankles (hardly worth mentioning) and one cadet fainted on the parade ground - obviously overwhelmed by the whole occasion (or could have been that he was standing to attention for at least an hour before the Prince actually arrived – the RN are nothing if not prepared).
But at least nobody lost their head...
1815 I’m finally home and even the chaotic state of the kitchen (Frankie’s obviously been baking) is not enough to ruin my mood - although it is dented a bit when I notice chocolate frosting on the ceiling.
I grab a glass of wine and head down to mum’s to tell her of my triumph.
All in all a brilliant day!
Friday 16 October
0830 Feeling a bit flat this morning in the aftermath of yesterday. Everything’s gone back to normal. We’ve already had 2 cadets decide that an early weekend is in order (probably come to the conclusion that a 3 night stay in the Ritz will help them recover from the hectic activity of the last couple of days).
I’ve brought Nelson in today but after a halcyon day with my mum yesterday he wasn’t keen, the clue being the fact that he parked himself outside my mum’s door and flatly refused to shift. It took 3 custard creams and a ginger nut to get him in the car (did I say he was stubborn?)
He’s now sitting on his chair looking at me reproachfully. I’ll take him out for a long walk at lunch time – that’ll teach him to sulk.
Anyway, onwards and upwards. I’ve got a meeting with Commander NTE after Stand Easy to discuss our impending visit to Saudi. I think the intention is for us to fly out (First Class – just wanted to say it again) 2 weeks on Sunday – earlier than expected, so I’ve got a lot to do before then...
1055 On my way to Commander NTE’s office. Unfortunately I missed Stand Easy and thus any last minute desperate glory basking with my army of fans before I’m brushed under the carpet and forgotten. However I did bump into Rob on his way out. Seems he’s planning to take his son Jack camping this weekend.
In the dinky toy!
I’m impressed. Anyone who can squash 2 days worth of camping equipment in a boot the size of my underwear drawer has definitely got hidden talents (mind you he’s probably intending to wear the same clothes all weekend...)
An Officer and a Gentleman Wanted: A Romantic Comedy Page 10
