Deep Water

by Tim Jeal

  Leo pushed back his chair so violently it hit the sideboard. ‘I didn’t.’

  He saw how flushed she had become – always a sign of rage, rather than embarrassment, with mum. ‘Am I dumb or something?’ she demanded, shaking her head. ‘Your friend has a great time at tennis and the very next day he wants to quit. I want to know how come?’

  ‘Why not ask him,’ shouted Leo. ‘I bet you’d rather I pushed off instead. Everything’s my fault, isn’t it? Never his.’

  Andrea’s attitude softened perceptibly. ‘Be fair, sweetheart, and stop acting as if I’m a mind-reader. Unless you tell me, I won’t know what he’s done.’

  ‘Ruined my holiday, that’s what,’ cried Leo, and rushed from the room.

  *

  Justin had walked along the beach and over the rocks until he reached the pontoon at the back of naval headquarters. But now that all he had to do was climb some stone steps and cross a lawn, his courage failed him. He knew he should warn Mike about what he had told Leo. If he didn’t, Mike could be confronted out of the blue by Leo or Peter, with no time to think. And then, if Mike found out who had told them, he would never want to speak to the traitor again. So really there was no choice but to confess, and hope to be forgiven.

  To start with, walking along the beach, Justin had tried to persuade himself that Mike would be secretly delighted if Peter found out without being told by him. He himself was probably too soft-hearted to do the deed. But this line of reasoning didn’t convince Justin for long. He knew for a fact that two of the men who had slept with his mother had told his father straight out what they’d been doing with her. But really their situation had been different from Mike’s; they hadn’t been about to get themselves killed. So maybe Mike wouldn’t be delighted that someone had ratted. Instead, he might feel very angry indeed. After all, there wouldn’t be much point upsetting Leo and Peter if he wasn’t going to be around for long. And this thought really upset Justin – things were bad enough for Mike already, without having to deal with such nasty problems just when he was planning his missions.

  The tide was out, and, though part of the pontoon was still afloat, the mud stretched out on both sides, almost to the end. As Justin stepped onto one of the wooden platforms, a mass of wading birds rose from the weed-covered flats like a small snowstorm against the dark woods on the far shore. The day was overcast and out in the estuary the sea looked a dull greeny grey.

  He meant to lose no time in walking the few paces that would take him to where the stone steps began, but he found he could not make himself move at all. It would be almost five minutes before he could drag his feet to the top. Almost as he stepped onto the lawn he was stopped by a sailor, a large man with three red stripes on his arm below crossed anchors.

  ‘You boy! Looking for someone?’

  ‘Lieutenant Commander Harrington.’

  The petty officer led Justin past a sentry in white gaiters outside the main door and into the echoing hallway which Justin remembered from his first visit, those sad signs – Tudor Bar, Reception, Games Room – summoning up days when families would have come for their holidays. He was directed to a chair and the sailor spoke briefly to a Wren sitting at a table on the far side of the room. She made a telephone call, though whether it was to do with him Justin did not know.

  He had decided that Mike would not come and see him before lunch, and this enabled him to relax a little, rather like a patient relieved to be waiting well down in the queue for the dentist. But then, Mike suddenly appeared from a doorway opposite. Perhaps because he was in uniform, Justin felt ill at ease. He had intruded into Mike’s world and felt unwelcome. He looked down at the damaged parquet floor, rather than meet Mike’s gaze.

  ‘I came to tell you I’m going tomorrow.’

  ‘Why so soon?’

  The moment to be honest had arrived already. Justin opened his mouth. ‘You know when Leo was so grumpy yesterday, he said things which made me angry, too. So I said something I didn’t mean to, but which I couldn’t stop because …’ He paused, imagining how the kindly attentive expression on Mike’s face would suddenly be replaced by one of disbelief and anger.

  Mike was waiting, his expression becoming slightly less patient. At last he cleared his throat. ‘Look, Justin, I’m always glad to see you, but I’m jolly busy this morning.’ He smiled briskly. ‘I’ll try and say a proper goodbye tomorrow. Let’s walk to the gate, shall we.’

  Justin let himself be led out onto the gravel. He was not going to say anything now. He wasn’t brave enough. So Leo would tell his father, who would come and shout at Mike. Or Leo would attack his mother, who would be sure to tell Mike what Leo had said, and how he had come to know it. Either way, Justin was sure that Mike would never want to see him again. Before they reached the sentry’s hut at the gate, Justin’s eyes were filling with tears, and he could not have spoken even if he had known what to say. The weight of Mike’s hand on his shoulder only made him feel worse. Two ratings marched in at the gate and saluted Mike as they went past.

  ‘Come on, Justin,’ soothed Mike. ‘Nobody’s indispensable. Not me, and certainly not Leo. You can stand on your own feet already. So don’t forget it.’ Not trusting himself to speak, Justin nodded. ‘See you in Yorkshire.’

  ‘See you,’ gasped Justin, already moving away, knowing that he had let Mike down and would never be able to put it right.

  CHAPTER 15

  When Peter and Justin left for the station early on Monday morning, with Andrea driving, Leo wished he could face going with them to say goodbye to his father on the platform, but he could not bear to sit in the same car as Justin. Before his mother closed her door, she looked back at him, as if, thought Leo, he had just plunged a knife into Justin’s gizzard, and the blade was still dripping in his hand. Yet only a week ago she had been the one who’d wanted Justin’s aunt to remove him for what he’d said to Rose. And who had stood up for Justin then? Only little me, sighed Leo.

  Although he had not started on his father yet, Leo meant to work on him till he agreed to come back to live all the time in Oxford. That way, his parents wouldn’t keep on drifting apart. Somehow, Leo had resisted the huge temptation to weep all over mum and beg her to stop seeing Mike. Mercifully, now that his longing to do this wasn’t so powerful, he knew he could manage to keep his mouth shut, at least till he had found out more. Justin’s warning that he would hurt his father most of all, by blabbing out everything, still haunted Leo. Thinking about his dad upset him badly: especially remembering his friendly smile as he sat sipping wine with Mike, and how he’d cheered when Mike won points in the tennis. Considering dad couldn’t hit a single ball, that had been amazing of him. So what an idiot he was going to feel if he ever found out what Mike had been up to all along. Luckily, dad wouldn’t have to know anything, if mum could be stopped.

  Leo paced about in the sitting room trying to work out how to make her see what a brute she was being. Dad had once said that moral choices were the most important ones – maybe he hadn’t quite said that, since he’d been talking about books – but Leo reckoned he at last understood what his father had meant. Right and wrong choices did matter most.

  Since he absolutely had to to come up with a plan, Leo began to feel frightened when nothing came to mind. He had been getting along so badly with mum recently that he couldn’t imagine things ever getting better. So what could he say, when she finally breezed in and dropped her car keys beside her handbag on the table? She was never going to believe that Justin had nagged him into doing exactly what he wanted every damned day of the holiday. She liked Justin because Mike doted on him. Even dad seemed to have taken a special shine to him. A fog of hopelessness enveloped Leo. Perhaps things had gone too far for him to change them. His parents would split up and he would lose his home. If Mike came through the war, he would adopt Justin and marry Andrea. Leo flung himself onto the sofa and beat his fists against its lumpy seat.

  Time had passed – ten minutes or thirty, he scarcely cared h
ow many. He leapt up as if a change of position might ease his misery. His eye lighted upon the black lacquer cabinet in the corner. Inside it there were glasses, a decanter of sherry and a whisky bottle. So why not do as grown-ups did to cheer themselves when they couldn’t cope? Mum didn’t drink often, but when Justin had not come back from the boat that night even she had gulped down Scotch. He opened the cabinet door and poured himself some whisky. What a stink! Like a girl jumping in a swimmming pool he held his nose and tipped his head right back with the glass clamped to his mouth. Choking and spluttering, he staggered to a chair. How could people drink such stuff? Nobody could like it. Mercifully, he’d managed to swallow most without gagging. So how long till he felt better? Justin would have known to the nearest minute, bloody know-it-all. At school he’d once said that by tossing back different sorts of drink one after the other, the drinker got even drunker. Leo splashed sherry onto what was left of the whisky.

  After a few gulps, a pleasant warm feeling began to spread upwards from his stomach. His problems seemed already to be dwindling. The thought of Justin having Andrea for his mother no longer hurt so much.

  He said out loud, articulating carefully, as if testing an idea, ‘Au contraire, amigo, my mum never touches men in or out of uniform. And no naval pig gets in her poke. Never.’ He began to pace about, stumbling over the rug and falling, without hurting himself.

  ‘Blinking, stinking,’ he confided to the lacquer cabinet. ‘One for the road? Don’t mind if I do.’ He raised his glass and poured an inch of sherry first, and then an inch of whisky. The whole operation took longer than he had expected. ‘Down the hatch, bottoms up,’ he muttered. Even as this new drink was coursing down his throat, he began to feel thick-headed and a little wobbly. He was surprised to see Rose staring at him from the doorway. How long had she been there?

  ‘Naval pigs! Bottoms up! That’s a tidy mouthful, Master Leo.’

  For a moment, Leo felt unpleasantly dizzy, but as he focused on Rose the feeling passed. ‘Wha’s wrong with bottoms up?’

  ‘You shouldn’ be drinkin’ at your age, that’s what’s wrong.’

  ‘Would ’ee like a drink, ol’ gal?’ Leo gestured gallantly towards the cabinet. ‘Just a jotto blotto,’ he admitted gravely, turning much faster than he had intended and spilling his drink on the table. He pulled out a grubby handkerchief and rubbed at the wet wood, making the table tilt and the waxed fruit slip away towards the edge. Rose sprang forward and caught the glass dome.

  Leo watched her disapprovingly. ‘Steady on, sweetheart. Gin or sherry?’ She was looking at him with a mixture of dismay and hilarity. ‘What’s wrong with bottoms up?’ he demanded, irritated by her superior smile. Suddenly Leo strongly suspected she had shown Justin her bottom, and he’d only pretended she hadn’t. Bloody little liar. ‘Did you show him yours?’ he cried.

  Her cheeks reddened, though Leo did not notice. ‘Don’ ’ee go askin’ such a thing.’

  ‘Girls do show their things, so don’t say they don’t.’ For some reason, his mood had changed from anger to tearfulness.

  ’Tisn’t true ’less they be tarts,’ reproved Rose.

  He closed his eyes for a moment and the room seemed to roll sideways like a ship at sea. ‘Ordinary girls do it, too,’ he insisted, his voice coming out shaky and very faint. He wondered what bits of herself his mother might have shown to Mike already. The room was trembling at the edges now, even though Leo’s eyes were wide open. He felt horribly sick.

  ‘I think my mum’s been …’ he began, but could not finish. Instead, he shook his head slowly and started to cry. Rose came and gave him a comforting hug. He was aware of the soft feeling of her breasts under her cotton dress, but he didn’t enjoy the sensation. The room was spinning now, and, suddenly, he knew he was going to vomit. Just in time, he turned his head away, but a hot cascade still splattered Rose’s lace-up shoes.

  Leo woke in bed soon after the church clock struck two in the afternoon. His eyeballs were aching and his mouth felt dry and furry. He blushed fiercely at the memory of Rose undressing him and helping him into his pyjamas. She had promised not to tell his mother why he’d been sick. And since he had not been disturbed, he presumed Rose had kept her word. Mum must surely have got back from the station some time ago.

  *

  On being greeted by Rose, Andrea was alarmed to hear that Leo had been unwell. But when she saw that the girl was not worried she experienced a deep glow of relief, and not only because he would be fine. At the station, she had learned something that had left her in need of a quiet time.

  As they had been waiting for the train, Peter had gone into the gents, and Justin had moved right up close to her, looking even more determined than usual.

  ‘Will you swear to tell me if Mike is killed.’ The calm, adult way he said this shocked and moved her. He had accepted that Mike might die and was already living with the possibility. And he knew that she meant to follow Mike’s fortunes come what may.

  ‘We’re not staying here a lot longer,’ she had told him, avoiding his gaze.

  He said with a hint of reproach, ‘I know he’ll make sure another officer tells you.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Justin, of course I’ll let you know.’ She wanted to admit to him that she loved Mike, because Justin loved him, too, but she couldn’t say it.

  Because Justin had seemed to be in complete control of himself, Andrea was shaken when he lifted his hands to his face to hide tears. At last he gasped out words that she could scarcely imagine she was hearing.

  ‘I told Leo about you and Mike.’

  ‘Did what?’ she gasped, eyes on the small doorway, where Peter would soon reappear.

  ‘I’m really sorry. I lost my temper. I didn’t mean to tell him, I swear I didn’t.’

  Andrea did not permit herself to look at him directly in case she showed her anger and lost the chance to ask the questions she needed to. In his pink school blazer, he looked too youthful to have dealt her this unexpected blow. With her eyes fixed on the slug-like heraldic creature on his breast pocket, Andrea asked as calmly as she could, ‘Did Leo believe what you told him?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘But you’re not sure?’

  ‘I am pretty much.’

  ‘Any special reason?’

  He shrugged. ‘Just the way he was. I know him well – that’s it, mainly.’

  Justin looked so guilty and woebegone that she could not help saying, ‘I’m glad you told me.’

  ‘I couldn’t just go and leave you in the dark.’ He stood head bowed: a picture of contrition.

  She might have said something mildly comforting, if, at that moment, Peter had not stepped into the archway of the gents, like a mechanical saint bustling into view to the chimes of a cathedral clock.

  When her husband came closer, Andrea saw several dark spots on his trousers. Because he needed both hands to undo his buttons, she knew he always found it hard to keep his balance in public lavatories, unless lucky enough to encounter a stall-like urinal to hold onto. Andrea watched him smile sympathetically at Justin, having noticed the boy’s unhappy expression.

  ‘Come on, old chap,’ he urged, patting him on the back. ‘Leaving Cornwall isn’t the end of the world, you know.’

  Over her husband’s shoulder, Andrea had seen a young soldier and his girl embracing, their mouths glued together as they concluded a long farewell. From beyond the latticed footbridge came a loud screeching as the engine’s brakes were engaged. In another moment, Andrea would have to say goodbye to Peter. She knew this, and dreaded kissing him with Justin looking on, knowing what the boy would be thinking. But what else could she do, as the train juddered to a halt and Peter thrust forward his familiar, trusting face?

  *

  Switching her gaze from the rose-patterned bedroom wallpaper to her son’s pale face, Andrea had no idea what he was thinking. He’d been moody so often this vacation that his present glumness didn’t prove a thing. Andrea practised an everyd
ay smile – nothing too fulsome. He was sitting up in bed, a book of puzzles propped on his knees.

  Her smile slipped when she took in how frail he looked. ‘My, you do look green, darling.’

  She sat down on the bed beside him. So many thousands of times they had sat together like this, happily. Yet this might be the day on which things changed forever.

  ‘Was it a bad egg?’

  ‘I just felt sick … and was.’ Exasperation creased his smooth forehead, as if he had expected her to fuss and was not pleased to be proved right.

  As he looked down again at his book, deeper furrows marked his brow. Would he frown a lot when he was a man? Hoping he wouldn’t, she successfully fought a desire to whisper something tender and said breezily, ‘I’ve been wanting to go sailing one more time.’

  ‘I only went out in that beastly boat to please Justin.’

  ‘You never enjoyed it?’ She tried not to sound shocked.

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Not everyone gets rescued by the navy.’ Andrea smiled at him, hoping to get him to admit that, along with his painful memories, he also had some amusing ones.

  He said mournfully, ‘I was always scared I might need rescuing.’

  ‘Maybe it’s not too late to have more lessons now.’ How had she dared suggest it? But how else could she find out whether he believed Justin’s tale?

  ‘With the commander?’ Leo sounded unenthusiastic rather than outraged.

  ‘Sure.’ She hesitated, but only for a moment. ‘If he has the time, you should go.’

  Leo stared at his book without speaking. Andrea could feel her heart thumping. His next response would surely reveal what he knew.

  ‘Okay,’ he said, not even looking up from his book.

  ‘Okay, what?’

  ‘I’ll have a lesson with him.’ Matter of fact, unemotional; even bored.

  So it was all right, wasn’t it? If he’d suspected anything he would never have agreed to see Mike again. Faint with relief, Andrea wanted to hug Leo, but her worries wouldn’t go away so easily. If Justin had told him about the bike’s saddle, what must Leo have thought? Details like that couldn’t simply be ignored. And Justin must have served up a few facts to lend credibility to his tale-telling. So if Leo did have suspicions, and wasn’t going to say anything to her, maybe he wouldn’t be able to hold back when seeing Mike. Until he had gone out for that sailing lesson, Andrea knew she could take nothing for granted.