‘With respect, sir, I did not attack the Japanese task force or bring the ship home, all by myself.’
Nimitz smiled. ‘I know that, Lieutenant. But you were in the hot seat, and I’m afraid you are going to have to remain there. The public likes to have a hero, and right now you are elected. You have a famous name, a famous father, and now you’re going to be famous yourself. We want the folks back home to feel that so long as there is a McGann fighting for them everything is going to be all right. Hell, they could be right. So you hold that press conference, and you let them take lots of photographs, and you tell them how you licked the Japs virtually single handed. Your dad will be proud of you. So will the whole nation.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Walt said uneasily.
Nimitz surveyed his somewhat soiled white uniform. ‘You have four hours to get yourself fresh gear. The conference is fixed for twelve noon. Then you have an eighteen hour pass. Tecumsah docks at dawn tomorrow morning, and you will join her then. She will be doing nothing more than fuelling before putting to sea.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Walt said, with more enthusiasm.
Nimitz gave another grin. ‘You’ll see we believe in working our heroes.’ He stood up, and Walt did also. Nimitz held out his hand. ‘I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, McGann. Oh, by the way, I’ve recommended you for the Congressional Medal of Honour.’
‘Sir?’
Nimitz shrugged. ‘Heroes have to have medals, McGann. And why shouldn’t you have the medal of honour? You deserve it, and your dad has one. Must keep up the family tradition.’
*
Walt wasn’t sure whether he was standing on his head or his heels. He knew enough about the Navy to understand that Nimitz had spoken nothing more than the truth; every man who went to sea to fight was a hero … but only one or two could be recognised as such, and those who were recognised had to act the part. While it certainly made sense to recognise someone whose name was already known. That all of those things should have fallen on his shoulders, however, left him feeling distinctly odd, a mixture of exhilaration, apprehension and doubt, both as to whether he would be able to sustain the role which had been thrust upon him, and as to the reaction of his fellow officers — and the crew of Tempest. Not to mention Clive, who was probably fighting as hard as anyone right this minute, in Madagascar.
But he was also aware of something else, here in Pearl. There was a tension in the air, as if everyone was waiting for something to happen. The best example was the frenzied speed with which the dockyard was working to get Yorktown ready for action again … and the information that Tecumsah, having crossed from the mainland, was immediately putting to sea again. He had known that tension in March, when Tempest had stopped here. It was greater now, and Tempest had been on her way to fight a battle.
That was exhilarating too. It was simply a matter of getting through the next twenty four hours, and then putting out once more. The Navy tailors were able to fix him up quickly enough; they had every possible size and shape of white duck uniforms, even for someone as large as himself, and he was able to admire his new stripe: he was nineteen, and had already been promoted full lieutenant. That seemed even more important than the Medal of Honour.
Then he was escorted to the press room, flanked by Captain Adams and a Lieutenant Greenidge as the reporters threw questions at him, and took his photograph from every conceivable angle, and even filmed him for the newsreels. The questions ran the whole gamut from the banal, ‘What does it feel like to be a hero, Lieutenant McGann?’, to the serious, ‘What steps did you take to ensure that none of your remaining torpedoes was in a dangerous state following the collision with the Japanese destroyer, Lieutenant?’ to the unanswerable, ‘How soon will Tempest be ready for sea again, Lieutenant McGann?’ and, ‘To which ship are you now being assigned?’
In turning these aside he was helped by Captain Adams, and at last the ordeal was over. Adams then took him to lunch at the club. ‘I imagine you don’t need any advice on how to spend your furlough,’ he remarked. ‘I guess you’ve been in Pearl before.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Walt said. But in fact he had no idea how to spend his furlough. He was desperately aware that if he wanted a woman — and he did want a woman; for all of Hogan’s efforts he had not actually ever had one in Australia — he did not have to go to a brothel, but simply present himself at the Te Hota household. They would be overjoyed to see him, and in fact, as within a couple of hours everyone would know that he had been in Pearl, because there had been local reporters present at the press conference, if he did not visit the Te Hotas Janice would no doubt be deeply offended.
Besides, he told himself, what harm could it do? Clive had recommended that he avoid the girl, if he seriously intended to marry Linda. But Clive had had no suspicion of the circumstances that might occur. And if he was going to be a hero, with Linda several thousand miles away in Annapolis, and Janice right here on his doorstep, so to speak … surely heroes could be allowed a little proper relaxation. His mind had made itself up, and he felt a pleasant ripple of excitement. He might even get to take her to bed. He had never actually lain in a bed with a woman before, and the idea was most attractive.
He shook hands with Adams, placed his cap firmly on his head, went to the door of the club, and gazed at the epitome of elegance walking by outside, three Waves in tropical uniform: low heeled white court shoes, white skirts, white tunics, white handbags slung from their shoulders, white caps perched on the top of carefully coiffured hairstyles gathered in snoods behind their ears. They saw him as he emerged, and saluted smartly as they turned their eyes left, and he found himself looking at Linda Brewster.
*
She stopped walking, and her arm fell to her side. ‘Walt?’ she asked. ‘Oh, my God, Walt?’
Her companions had stopped also, and were looking at her in alarm; enlisted women did not address officers, even good looking young lieutenants, by their Christian names.
Walt ran down the steps. ‘Linda?’ Almost he reached for her, then recollected himself and the fact that there could be a thousand people watching them.
Linda stood to attention. ‘Brewster, sir.’
‘But … what are you doing here?’
‘Arrived two weeks ago, sir.’
‘In the Navy?’
‘Enlisted 9 December 1941, sir.’
‘Good God. But Linda … heck, can you get any time off?’
Linda glanced at her comrades. ‘We have an afternoon pass, sir.’
‘So have I.’
Linda licked her lips, looked at her friends again.
‘Say, sir, is your name Lieutenant McGann?’ asked one of them.
‘Yes,’ Walt said.
‘Then I guess you’d better go with him, honey,’ the woman said. ‘Some people are just born lucky.’
‘Yes,’ Linda said. ‘Oh, yes.’
They walked side by side through the gate, and the sentries saluted.
‘What on earth are you doing in the Navy?’ Walt asked.
‘I wanted to be near you. At least figuratively. I never hoped … ’ she glanced at him. ‘That we’d actually bump into each other.’
‘Happy about that?’
‘Oh, Walt … ’
They were still in public, and couldn’t even touch each other. But he meant to remedy that. This was undoubtedly his lucky day. He hailed a cab, gave the address.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked, as he sat beside her in the back.
‘My parents have a home here. I thought we’d go out there.’
‘How marvellous,’ she said. ‘Will they like me, Walt?’
‘They’ll love you,’ he promised, while he attempted to get his thoughts under control. But they seemed stuck on a circular tramline. He was an officer and a gentleman, and this was his fiancée sitting beside him. But she was also the most beautiful and desirable girl he knew, and they had met by chance, and he was going back to sea tomorrow, and he wanted a woman more than anything. While if he had b
een given the choice of any woman in the world he would have chosen Linda. But he was an officer and a gentleman, and he was carrying his fiancée off to screw her — without her being aware of it.
‘You haven’t changed your mind?’ he asked.
‘Do you think I have?’
‘I’m just hoping.’ He grinned.
‘Walt … ’ her hand slipped across the seat, and he caught the fingers. ‘Walt … will we … well … ’ she flushed.
‘Sure,’ he said, understanding her meaning. They’d have a chance to be alone, all right. His heart was pounding so hard he was sure she could hear it; Pearl City was already behind them, and they were turning into the bungalow drive. ‘How much time have you?’ he asked.
‘I’m due back at six,’ she said.
It was just after two. ‘You come back at five thirty,’ he told the cab driver.
‘Yes, sir, Lieutenant.’
‘Five thirty sharp, mind.’
‘You got it, Lieutenant.’
Linda got out. ‘I don’t think they’re in,’ she said.
‘The gardener has a key,’ Walt assured her. He’d better have, he thought, or I’ll break the door down. He’d better be here, in fact.
The taxi drove away, and the gardener emerged from the shade, where he had apparently been enjoying a siesta. ‘Hi, there, Mr McGann,’ he said.
‘Hi. You have a key for the house?’
‘Sure. I gotta check the electrics and the pumps.’
‘Give it to me.’
‘Sure.’ He fumbled in his pocket, gave Walt a back door key, looked at Linda and grinned.
‘Now why don’t you take the rest of the afternoon off,’ Walt said. ‘When I leave, I’ll put the key under the mat, right?’ The gardener scratched his head, then shrugged. ‘Sure, Lieutenant, if that’s what you want. I’ll just fetch my gear.’ He looked at Linda again. ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance, miss.’
‘My fiancée,’ Walt felt called upon to explain.
‘You’re a lucky fellow, Lieutenant.’ He went off.
‘Walt,’ Linda said, following him round the house. ‘What’s going on?’
‘My parents are back in the States,’ he said, inserting the key and turning it before raising his head. ‘Do you reckon I should’ve told you that before?’
She gazed at him, and he opened the door. ‘We mightn’t see each other again for a while,’ he said. ‘And heck … wouldn’t you say it was Fate let us meet like this?’
The door was wide. Linda hesitated a moment, then stepped past him into the kitchen; he inhaled her scent. He followed her, closed and locked the door again. Linda opened the inner
door and stepped into the lounge/diner. ‘Nice,’ she said.
‘If dusty.’ He stood behind her, and put his arms round her waist.
She turned, in his arms, and kissed him. He had never known such a passionate kiss, but so much of the passion was his he couldn’t be sure of hers; yet her mouth was open and her tongue was eager and her body was pressed against his as it had been at that dance on 6 December. He waited for her hands to move down, as they had done, but they remained clasped round his neck, and then she pulled her head away. ‘I’m going to crush your uniform,’ she said.
‘And yours?’
Her arms left his neck and she moved away.
‘I’ve always wanted to kiss a woman in uniform,’ he said.
She turned away from him, wandered round the room, picked up various photographs and looked at them. ‘I guess you’ve kissed lots of girls since leaving Annapolis,’ she said.
‘Not too many. We don’t carry them on submarines, worse luck.’
She glanced at him, and he opened the bedroom door, went inside, turned back the covers on the double bed. ‘The sheets are dry.’
She stood in the doorway. ‘Just like that?’
He faced her. ‘Not if you don’t want to.’
She licked her lips again. ‘Of course I want to, Walt. It’s just that … ’
‘I didn’t tell you about my folks?’
‘No.’ She gazed at him; he had never seen her eyes so solemn.
He crossed the room, kissed her again, lightly. Then he began to unbutton her tunic; she made no attempt to stop him, remained gazing at him. ‘I love you,’ he said. ‘God, how I love you.’
‘I love you, Walt.’
The tunic hung loose. Before, she had been a woman in uniform. Suddenly she was just a woman, her breasts swelling beneath her shirt. He touched her neck, then slipped her tie free. Then she moved, violently, hugging him against her and kissing his mouth. His hands were caught between and he held her breasts through the shirt while hers roamed over his back and down to his buttocks, came round in front and were withdrawn again, quickly.
He held her away. ‘We’re going to be married, remember?’
‘Yes,’ she said, and shivered.
He unbuttoned her shirt, gazed at the white slip and brassiere. Everything about her was so utterly pristine. Was he about to tarnish her?
‘If the CPO could see me now,’ she said, with half a smile.
He eased the tunic from her shoulders, then the shirt. He fumbled, but couldn’t find the catch, and she reached behind her and released it herself then pulled both sets of shoulder straps down. The slip settled about her waist, and the brassiere fell forward. He had always known she would have the most perfect breasts in the world, and he wasn’t disappointed; large, but high, with big nipples. He kissed them, buried his face in them. She pressed his head against them. ‘Am I as good as other girls?’ she asked.
He raised his head. ‘What other girls?’
‘You’re a sailor, fighting a war.’
‘Does that thought make you mad?’
‘No,’ she said, and released her waistband. He watched her step out of her skirt; the slip continued its slide and she stepped out of that as well. She kicked off her shoes and then straightened again, gazing at him. She wore regulation white knickers over her suspender belt; she was the most perfect sight he had ever seen. ‘Don’t I get something too?’ she asked.
He undressed, quickly, watching her. Nothing like this had happened with Janice Te Hota. That had been quick and tumultuous and passionate and obscured by clothes. He could not remember looking, and seeing, experiencing a woman with all of his senses rather than just his penis. And from the moment of their first meeting he had wanted to experience this woman, with all of his senses.
She stepped out of her knickers, stooped to release the suspender belt; she had already removed the snood and her hair flopped forward over her face — he was glad of that because he could look to his entire satisfaction without having the embarrassment of her knowing it. But she did know it, straightened unexpectedly as she pulled off the second stocking.
‘You are so beautiful,’ he said.
He was down to his underpants. She came across the room, and slipped them past his thighs, took him in her hands. ‘So are you,’ she said, and kissed him on the mouth. Their naked bodies moved against each other, and he lifted her from the floor. Her legs were round his waist and she clung there, moving her body and using her hands; before he was sure how it happened he was inside her. He had expected some reaction of pain or discomfort, but there was none, only a deep sigh — he supposed that with her legs spread so wide it had been easy for her.
He couldn’t move, and her body slid up and down his once or twice, then her legs uncoiled. She had such long, slender, but strong legs. She slid down him. ‘We don’t have to hurry,’ she said.
‘I think he does,’ Walt said.
She made a moue, went into the bathroom, and returned with a wet washcloth. This she wrapped round him for a moment; the water was cool. Then she took the cloth away. Instinctively he reached for a towel, but she shook her head. ‘He won’t catch cold.’
He dropped the towel, and she crawled on to the bed. ‘Make love to me, Walt,’ she said.
‘If I do … ’
‘Not wi
th him,’ she said. ‘With everything else. Make love to me.’
He didn’t know what she meant, so she showed him. She guided his fingers between her legs, and sighed. ‘Don’t you want to look?’ she asked.
He did; it had just never occurred to him that she would want him to. But then, it had not occurred to him that she might want him to touch her, there. He knelt between her legs, and she pulled her knees up. ‘Use your tongue,’ she begged. ‘Use your tongue.’
He hesitated, then gently kissed her. But once he had started he couldn’t stop, held her buttocks to lift her from the bed, kissed and sucked and was taken by surprise when she half screamed, half moaned. He lifted his head. ‘Oh, Linda … ’
‘Don’t stop,’ she shouted. ‘Don’t stop.’
He kissed her again, and she writhed and gave a little crying sound, before slowly subsiding. He knelt above her, looked down at the tangled hair, the sweat wet face, the heaving breasts. Her eyes had been closed, but now they opened, hesitantly. Her tongue circled her lips. ‘I hope I didn’t shock you,’ she said.
‘That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,’ he told her. And it was true. But it was more than the beauty of a woman shedding all poise and pretence and make believe to belong; it was the beauty of total intimacy, something he had not previously suspected to exist. And he had feared that she might not be as good as Janice Te Hota! ‘Oh, I love you.’
She smiled, lazily. ‘Don’t think I’m going to stop loving you, now, Walt.’ Her gaze slid down his body. ‘Let’s bring him up again.’
Because it was his turn. But hers again as well. Perhaps she had needed the first one really to get her going. Now she could enjoy herself. When he was inside her she brought her legs together, and he moved his to the outside. Thus he was imprisoned not only between her thighs but his own as well. Then when he would have started to pump, she shook her head, her hair rippling across the pillow. ‘Just kiss me,’ she said. ‘Kiss me and kiss me and kiss me.’
He obeyed, trying to keep still. She didn’t, moved her body very gently, seeming to roll her thighs together around him, while he felt the orgasm building. When it came it was in a rush he had never known, and he thought she did as well, because she uttered another of those frightening half screams, and broke out in a fresh rash of sweat.
The Passion and the Glory Page 16
