Strike from the Sea (1978) (18 page)

‘The clerk said that . . . I thought you . . .’ He broke off as she held out her left hand. It was small and well shaped, but all Ainslie saw was the wedding ring.

She said quietly, ‘He was right. You asked for
Miss
Torrance, you see?’

‘Yes, I did.’ He looked away. ‘I’m sorry.’

She led the way to one of the small tables.

‘I wanted to thank you before we left your ship. For saving
our lives.’ She shrugged. ‘For everything. But you heard what happened. The admiral sent his aide to collect us.’

A waiter hovered by the table and she asked, ‘Would you like some tea, Commander?’ She watched his uncertainty. ‘Or something stronger?’

Ainslie smiled, fascinated. She was incredible. Not merely lovely to look at, but she showed no sign of her ordeal. He should have thought of it himself. No girl who looked like her would stay single for long out here.

He said, ‘Something very long and cold, that is, if you will join me.’

She nodded to the waiter and said, ‘Is everything all right for you now?’

He looked at his hands, remembering them slipping on the periscope grips.

‘Getting better.’ He laughed. ‘I was going to ask you to a party. I seem to have made a bit of an ass of myself.’

The waiter returned and presented a tall glass misted with ice.

The girl said gravely, ‘The Royal special sling. Ninety-nine per cent iced gin!’ She picked up her own drink and put the glass to her lips. ‘Your very good health.’

Ainslie felt the cold gin running through him like ice-water. There was Benedictine and Cherry Brandy in it, too.

She said, ‘It was very considerate of you to come.’ Just for an instant her expression altered and her eyes seemed to cloud over. ‘My sister had no right to speak to you like that. I was ashamed.’

Ainslie wanted to reach out, to touch her hand. It was impossible to think of it as the same hand which had dug into his arm, breaking the skin, after she had been brought from the motor launch.

‘She could not understand. I didn’t enjoy it. I hated leaving those men behind.’

He looked down, avoiding her eyes.

‘It keeps coming back, all the time.’

She said gently, ‘You saved my life. I owe you my honesty at least. I went to see Shelly and her husband Mike because I needed advice, escape, if you like. But it was all sham. They were rowing most of the time, fighting like cat and dog. Mike was a good engineer, but he knew nothing about women, even
less about a girl like Shelly. She craves excitement, and has the ability to tease men until they don’t know what they’re doing.’ She put her hand flat on the table beside her glass. ‘Then the attack began. We couldn’t believe it, that the enemy would get through the defences so easily.’ Her lips trembled as she added, ‘It was so bad that I can’t really accept that it happened. Perhaps when I do it will get worse.’

Ainslie knew it was time to leave. He knew, too, that he could not.

‘We shall be off to sea again soon.’

She looked at him, her eyes startled. ‘But I thought . . . after what you had to do . . .’

He smiled. ‘It doesn’t work like that, I’m afraid. My command is the odd one out here. Like having my own navy.’

‘I mustn’t ask.’ She suddenly put her hand on his. It was very smooth and surprisingly cool. ‘But will you be coming back to Singapore?’

‘I mustn’t answer.’ He watched her hand. ‘But yes, I believe so.’

‘Well, I expect . . .’ She suddenly withdrew her hand and exclaimed, ‘It must be later than I thought.’

A woman in nurse’s uniform was crossing the foyer. She was leading a small girl by the hand, and when she saw the table, led the child towards it.

Ainslie stood up. The child was aged about six, and he did not need to be told she was Natalie Torrance’s daughter. The same gleaming black hair, the same eyes.

The nurse said, ‘I’ll take her up to the suite, Mrs Torrance. She can rest before luncheon.’

The child was staring fixedly at Ainslie. Then she saw his cap on the chair and picked it up with her free hand.

‘Please, Frances, put it back.’

Ainslie smiled. ‘It’s quite all right, I . . .’ Then he saw the pain on her face and knelt down in front of the child. She was holding the cap very carefully, her eyes fixed on the oak leaves around the peak. But there was not a single spark of understanding or recognition on her face. It was like a small mask, or a dead replica of her mother’s.

The nurse took the cap and handed it to him without a word.

As they walked towards the stairs Ainslie said, ‘I am very sorry. I didn’t understand.’

She was still staring after the nurse and the child. ‘There was an accident. Her brain was damaged. I keep hoping.’ She looked past Ainslie, her eyes misty. ‘But I don’t know any more.’

Ainslie’s original feelings of foolishness and disappointment had gone. Instead he felt only warmth for this sad, beautiful girl. But it was a helpless feeling.

He noticed she had not referred to her husband at all.

‘I had better get back to the base.’

Some of the people at nearby tables were looking at him with flat, curious stares. Like the framed photographs on the wall, showing various important guests and dinner parties from many years ago. Thick dinner jackets, unsmiling, moustached faces. Rubber planters down from Malaya, government officials and district officers. Another era.

She said quietly, ‘Frances needs a lot of care. My husband has money.’ She turned to look at him again. ‘I would do anything for Frances.’

And I would for you.

He said, ‘If ever I can help . . .’

She nodded, studying his face. ‘I shall not forget.’ She picked up her bag. ‘But please don’t ask us to your party.’ She touched his arm with the same impetuous motion. ‘It would be quite impossible. But I hope we meet again.’

He watched her go. ‘I should like that.’

The hall porter touched his topee with a flourish. ‘All fixed, Commander-sahib?’

Ainslie thrust some coins into his hand. ‘No.’

Then he walked out into the jostling spectators on the street. A taxi passed him and swung into the gates. He could not be certain, but the pair inside looked like the girl’s sister, Shelly, and Lieutenant David Forster.

The saloon of the yacht
Lady Jane
was like an oven. Because of the new regulations about air raid precautions, every scuttle was sealed and covered, and the vessel’s fans were totally inadequate for the packed mass of figures. As was usually the case with naval parties, there were more guests than had been allowed for.

Ainslie stood crammed in a corner, wondering what all the previous owners of the old yacht would think of this hullabaloo.
Officers of every rank and age from the base and dockyard workshops. A few officials with their wives. Some girls from government house all talking at the tops of their voices, their faces shining with sweat.

Quinton said, ‘Good party. They’re having a great time.’ He tensed. ‘God, look at this.’

This
was the navigating officer, David Forster, with a radiant-looking girl on his arm. She was wearing a flame-coloured dress which hid very little, and left even less to the imagination.

Quinton added, ‘Hell, it’s the girl we picked up. Shelly something-or-other. She doesn’t look much like a grieving widow just now!’ He downed his glass. ‘Here we go.’

Forster managed to push through the crowd, taking two glasses from the tray of a perspiring steward en route.

‘You’ve met, of course.’ He beamed at Ainslie. ‘We ran into each other ashore, sir.’

The girl regarded him calmly. She was a year or two younger than her sister, and very attractive. She knew it too.

Ainslie held out his hand, half expecting her to ignore it. She was a far cry from the ragged, screaming girl in
Soufrière
’s passageway.

She said, ‘Good of you to have me.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘I shall call you Bob. I’m not one of your crew, am I?’

Quinton grinned. ‘Hardly.’

Ainslie said, ‘You’re looking well.’

She had not taken her eyes off him. They were shining, laughing. At him perhaps? Why had she come?

A boat bumped alongside, and Quinton said, ‘I’d better get on deck to meet the guests. Just a few more and I’ll start worrying about the trim here, too!’

The girl watched him push his way towards the after doors. ‘He must be Australian.’

Forster said, ‘Let’s get some drinks.’ He took her elbow but she shook his hand away. Ainslie saw the way she was staring at the doors at the far end of the saloon, the quick rise and fall of her barely covered breasts. She was excited, like a wild animal.

The doors opened and the new arrivals started to climb down from the upper deck.

Natalie Torrance stared at him across the heads of all the others until she reached the deck and was momentarily lost from
view. In those tiny seconds Ainslie saw the paleness of her face, the look of someone trapped. Behind her came a man in a white dinner jacket, very tanned, with a clipped, military-looking moustache. It must be her husband.

Forster stared entranced as the newcomers appeared through the crush.

‘This is my husband, Commander Ainslie.’ She looked up at the man beside her, her eyes pleading.

The man had a firm handshake. ‘My friends call me Guy.’ He grinned. ‘Amongst other things.’ He had a thick, resonant voice of an older man, and yet looked about thirty.

A steward brought a tray, and he seized a glass and said, ‘You did a fine job, Commander. About time somebody showed a bit of spunk round here.’ He shook his head. ‘Pity we couldn’t get aboard your sub. Maybe later, eh? God, when I think of it. What it must have been like. What you must have thought.’

Another drink rose and fell, the glass replaced empty.

Ainslie darted a glance at her. Despite her obvious discomfort, she was even more beautiful. She was dressed in black, a dress which left her arms quite bare and accentuated the perfect lines of her body.

Torrance said brightly, ‘Like picking up a couple of mermaids, eh?’

She said, ‘It wasn’t like that.’

‘Oh, well.’ He searched through his thoughts. ‘But when I heard from young Shelly about the party, I invited us along, d’you see?’

Ainslie glanced at Shelly. So that was it. It was her doing.

To provoke something or somebody.

Lieutenant Ridgway, who was officer of the day aboard the submarine, appeared through the noisy visitors. He saw Ainslie and said, ‘Just thought you should know, sir. Signal from HQ. Loading ammunition will begin tomorrow at 0730.’

Ainslie digested the information slowly, to give himself time. Guy Torrance had only been aboard ten minutes and had consumed at least seven drinks, and they were not small ones. No wonder she had not wanted to come. She had known what would happen. How could she stay with him? He was an alcoholic of the worst kind. The hard one, who goes on and on, barely showing any signs, until the explosion.

He suddenly remembered her face at the hotel. Her words.
I would do anything for Frances
. That was why she stayed with him.

Ridgway gratefully took a drink from Forster. ‘Any reply, sir?’

Ainslie shook his head. ‘Tell the cox’n, and just acknowledge it. All quiet?’

Ridgway looked at the two girls. It was obvious he had not recognized either of them.

‘Patrol activity in the north, sir. Not much change.’

He turned back to the others as Torrance exclaimed loudly, ‘Now then, my young friend!’ He was grinning fiercely at Forster. ‘I saw you looking down the front of my wife’s dress! Worth looking at, very true, but not for you!’ He threw back his head and laughed. ‘God, this is splendid!’

Forster looked at Ainslie, flushing with embarrassment. ‘I didn’t – I mean – I wasn’t –’

‘It’s all right, Pilot. Just listen carefully. Fetch our flyer, Christie, and Deacon. I want them over here double quick, and get them to pour as much drink into Guy Torrance as they can.’ He knew that both Christie and Deacon had reputations of being able to hold their drink.

He touched the girl’s arm and felt her start. ‘I’d like you to meet my chief engineer.’ He saw Christie’s face looming through the crowd, shining and determined.

Christie probably imagined Ainslie wanted him to get the man drunk just so that he could make a play for his wife. It was not unknown at shipboard parties.

Torrance boomed, ‘Good show!’ He swung round, knocking over some empty, glasses as Christie introduced himself by saying, ‘Now, you are an English gentlemen, sir. This half-baked engineer insists that we are no match for his ability to drink. He dares to say that he will take on the pair of us!’

Torrance grinned. ‘
Does
he?’ He snapped his fingers. ‘Steward! Here, boy! Brandy, and I mean a bottle!’

Deacon looked at Christie and winked.

Ainslie glanced round just once. He saw Torrance’s head going back, the pink film spreading across his eyes as he swallowed the brandy in a gulp.

He felt her trembling and knew some of the guests had stopped talking to watch the contest.

He said, ‘We can go on deck if you like?’

Outside it seemed almost cold, but the air was fresh and there was no cloud about. It must seem strange to the people who lived nearby to see no lights from the anchored ships. Ainslie had become used to it. Resigned.

He said quietly, ‘I am certain my navigator didn’t know about this.’

‘It was Shelly. She creates chaos, then triumphs over the survivors. I think she hates me sometimes.’

Ainslie guided her past the galley where the Chinese messboys were frantically washing and polishing glasses. A woman and an anonymous officer were entwined against the motor dinghy, and even in the stars’ dim glow Ainslie could see that the woman was half naked.

‘Quite a party,’ he said awkwardly.

She paused by the guardrail and looked down at the water alongside.

‘Guy has been like this since Frances had her accident. But he gets worse.’

She did not look at Ainslie, and it was difficult to hear everything she said.

‘We came out from the UK to take over Guy’s father’s business in Rangoon. Coastal shipping, lighterage and that sort of thing. He had been helping to open up more business here, which is why we are at the hotel. Now it looks as if our world is falling apart. Even Rangoon may be in danger.’