Oriental Hotel (15 page)

‘I couldn't sleep.' She hesitated, ‘I see we're docking. This must be Aden.'

‘Right.'

‘Mr Brittain …'

‘Do you have to keep calling me that? It makes me feel very old. My friends call me Brit.'

She tried to use the name but could not.

‘I want to telephone while we're here. I'm very anxious to find out how Alex is.'

He drew in smoke, looking at her with narrowed eyes.

‘I don't think you will be allowed to go ashore.'

‘But …'

‘This is a short stop for loading only. You will be confined to the ship.'

‘But that's ridiculous! I only want to make a phone call. Surely I can do that?'

‘If it's been decided that no one goes ashore, I don't think you should ask.'

‘But I want to find out how Alex is!' The atmosphere of the dream had returned, bringing her close to panic. ‘Anything could have happened. I must get to a phone!'

‘Look, you've got to realise that this is a troop-ship in time of war.'

‘I do realise that.'

‘I don't think you do. You're a civilian, I know; but you're occupying officers' accommodation and I think it has to be said that you should respect a few basic rules – the same rules that apply to the lower ranks of the armed forces.'

Something in his tone had set her teeth on edge.

‘I'm sorry. I don't know what you mean.'

‘For most of the men and women on this boat, the law of segregation applies. I realise that as the only woman in the officers' dining room you're bound to conduct conversations with the men. But I think you should bear in mind that …'

‘Just a minute!' she interrupted him, ‘Are you accusing me of something?'

He tossed his cigarette butt towards the water. ‘These men are serving officers in His Majesty's Forces, going to war. Don't make the mistake of confusing this voyage with a social occasion.'

For a moment she couldn't believe her ears. She had been the centre of attention in the officers' dining room, it was true, but preoccupied as she was with her anxiety about Alex it had meant little to her. Certainly she had done nothing to encourage familiarity and had noticed none. Only John Grimly had come close to making a nuisance of himself hovering a little, fussing and turning up wherever she went, but with his almost unreal old-world chivalry any impropriety was out of the question.

‘Are you saying that I encourage the men?' she flared.

His face was stern. ‘I wouldn't put it as strongly as that.'

‘I should hope not!'

‘Look!' He pulled out his silver cigarette case and lit another cigarette, shielding the lighter flame from the breeze. ‘Before you had been on board twelve hours, there was that young ass of a captain on Christian-name terms and following you round like a puppy-dog. And whenever I've seen you since, there he is too. That sort of thing is bad for discipline, it's bound to cause comment.'

‘From petty minds, yes, I suppose it would.' She was furious now and fury always lent her tongue a venomous edge. ‘As it happens, you're the only one as far as I know to think of such a thing.'

‘Let's hope it stays that way, then.' His voice was even, totally controlled. ‘There is one other point. So far, we've been in the Red Sea and everything's been very quiet. From Aden on it could be less pleasant. I told you before the kind of thing we could possibly encounter, but I didn't tell you that you should be prepared. Keep your important documents close by you at all times and have something at hand when you go to bed at night that would be suitable for wearing if we had to abandon ship.'

At any other time the warning would have made her go cold – just now she was too angry to be much affected by it.

‘Something unlikely to inflame the passions of my fellow survivors, no doubt?' she snapped.

He turned on the rail. ‘I'm sorry if you don't like it, but it had to be said. I got you this passage and I feel responsible for you.'

‘There's no need for that.'

‘There's every need. I don't honestly think you had any idea what you were letting yourself in for. Even if we don't run into trouble – and we shall run a zig-zag course in order to do our best to avoid it – things are going to be a good deal less comfortable. There will be boat drills at all hours of the day and night and you will be expected to join in like everyone else. There will be a blackout in force. And if this troop-ship is typical of others, the tenser people get the more noise they will make. There will be sing-songs and impromptu concerts, quarrels and arguments.'

‘So in the middle of all that, who is going to notice me and my wildly decadent ways?'

He turned away, his face snapping totally shut.

‘Have it your way. But don't say you haven't been warned.'

The second cigarette butt followed the first into the sea and he marched off, his limp very evident in the halting rhythm of his steps. She stood fuming with impotent anger. Arrogant swine! So his friends called him Brit, did they? He had precious
few
friends, she would have thought.

It was only as the anger cooled that the full import of the exchange filtered through to her. She would not be able to go ashore, he had said. Which would mean several more days without news of Alex.

All other dangers and aggravations forgotten, Elise leaned against the rail with head bowed. She had thought that once she was on her way Alex would seem nearer. But he did not. The desolation left by the dream had overtaken her now, her whole body ached with it. And with the longing for him. Oh, to feel his arms around her neck, to smell his hair and his skin, fresh from the bath!

But if her dream was prophetic, as she feared, she might never do any of these things again. To think about it was not morbid – it was sensible. Face it now, so that if the worst happened she would be prepared.

If only I
knew
something it wouldn't be so bad … she thought. But to be cut off for days and weeks, wondering if the next port of call would bring bad news, trying to keep back the hysterical feeling that something terrible might have happened already, was a prospect almost too hard to bear.

Elise stayed at the tail until she judged the Wrens would have gone to breakfast. The thought of their stony unfriendliness was more than she could face just now.

Then she went back to the cabin and to occupy herself, sorted through her papers as Gerald Brittain had suggested, making sure her passport was safely in her handbag with her other important documents. There was a photograph of Alex amongst them; tears ached in her throat as she looked at it, seeing wide grey eyes and a round, earnest face beneath a thatch of light, sandy hair, and remembering the day it had been taken, with Alex grizzling and uncooperative until the photographer had entertained him by balancing a toy monkey on his head.

The memory brought the waves of black depression again flooding in to swamp her.

Why did I leave him? Why? If he's all right this time, I'll never leave him again …

A tap at the cabin door arrested her. She stood for a moment undecided, unwilling to be caught with her defences down. But the tap came again, more impatient this time so, wiping her face with her fingers to remove any trace of tears, she opened it.

‘Oh, good. I was beginning to think you weren't here.'

It was Gerald Brittain. She bristled – couldn't the wretched man leave her alone?

‘Yes?' she said shortly.

For just a moment the strangest expression crossed his face. It was there, then it was gone before she had time to analyse or even register it. Then he said with a shortness to almost equal her own, ‘If you want to go ashore, you can. See Lieutenant Hickson.'

Her eyes widened. ‘Oh! I thought you said …'

‘But I wouldn't be too long about it. As I told you, the stop is for loading and unloading only.'

She was still almost speechless with surprise and he merely touched his forehead in mock salute, half smiled and turned away.

For a moment she stood looking after him. So she could go ashore. The relief was enormous, but her resentment almost equalled it. By telling her she could not, he had made her lose precious time when she could have been putting her call through. But at least he had the grace to come and admit his mistake – for that she should be grateful.

In haste now she tidied herself sufficiently to go ashore and went in search of Lieutenant Hickson. Older than many of the crew, he had served with the
Stranraer
as a merchant officer for most of his seagoing life; now, to the discipline of war, he had brought an easygoing manner which had in its time pleased countless fare-paying passengers and a lack of urgency which Elise found refreshing.

‘I would have asked earlier about going ashore, but Flight Lieutenant Brittain gave me to understand it wouldn't be possible,' she said breathlessly as he escorted her down the gangplank.

Raymond Hickson offered her his hand to help her from swaying gangplank to solid quayside.

‘If it wasn't for him, you wouldn't be going ashore. He pleaded your case pretty forcefully, I can tell you.'

Beneath her feet the land felt less steady than the ship had done. ‘What do you mean?'

‘You've got a little boy you're worried about, haven't you?'

‘That's right. Alex. He's been ill.'

‘Well, I reckon your Flight Lieutenant Brittain knew the Chief's soft spot is kids. Anything else and he's a hard man!'

‘It was true then, what he told me about not being allowed off the boat? I thought he must have made a mistake.'

‘No mistake.' The naval officer touched her arm. ‘Right, if we go this way …'

Elise went with him, startled and slightly guilty. It had never occurred to her that Gerald Brittain actually might have pleaded her case. She had assumed only too readily that he was simply being big enough to admit his original mistake.

The port of Aden was hot and dusty and the bright, reflected sunlight was hurtful to the eyes. In the streets, black-robed Muslim women shuffled past, veiled against the eyes of the curious, their berry-brown children clutched in their arms.

In a square flat-roofed building Lt. Hickson exchanged a few words with an Arab boy and a bronzed Englishman and Elise found herself with a telephone in her hand.

Tense now with anticipation, she waited while the connections were made. If there were no lines now and she had to return to the ship without getting through, she thought the disappointment would be too much to bear.

But, unbelievably, the call went through.

She heard the distant ringing so clearly it could have been right here in Aden, in the shelter of the extinct volcano, instead of Hong Kong's Victoria Peak; then Su Ming's voice:

‘Hello? Who is this, please?'

‘Su Ming? It's Mrs Sanderson.'

‘Who?'

‘Mrs Sanderson!' Surely she could hear! I can hear her so clearly, thought Elise. ‘Is Mr Sanderson at home?'

‘Oh, Mrs Sanderson. No, sorry he is not.'

She could feel her heart pumping the blood around her body at twice the normal rate.

‘Su Ming, how is Alex?'

‘Alex?'

‘Yes.' Was it the line – or was the girl being deliberately obtuse?' He's been ill, hasn't he?'

‘Oh yes.'

‘So how is he?' The tension was constricting her breath.

‘Oh, he is OK.'

‘Really? He's better?'

‘Yes. It must have been a chill, Dr Cromer said …'

She was trembling now and beneath her hands the receiver was moist with her perspiration. Alex was all right, he wasn't dead or going to die. He was better.

‘Is he there, Su Ming?'

‘Yes. Do you want to speak to him?'

‘Yes, please.'

A pause. She closed her eyes. She couldn't let that tension go. Not yet.

‘Hello, Mummy.' Alex's voice was more boyish than ever.

‘Hello, darling! Are you feeling better?'

‘Yes. I suppose so.'

‘What do you mean you suppose so?'

‘Su Ming won't let me go out to play yet. I'm bored.' The first chuckle came. Bored. Oh, he was better, all right!

‘Oh Alex, you gave me such a fright!'

‘What for?'

She swallowed. ‘Listen, darling, I'm on my way home!'

‘Are you?' He brightened and it warmed her heart. Then: ‘Have you got something for me?'

Another chuckle, which she suppressed with her fingers. Children! One minute you thought they were dying, the next they were asking you if you had something for them as though nothing else in the world mattered.

‘Yes, I've a few things, darling. Now listen, take care of yourself and I'll see you soon. Love to Daddy.'

‘Yes. Mummy, listen …'

‘Time up, caller.'

‘I'll have to go, Alex. Goodbye darling.'

‘Goodbye, Mummy.'

She replaced the receiver and stood for a second with her hands pressed over her face.

Oh, Alex! He was all right. Thank God! In that moment she could have floated, flown …

‘Mrs Sanderson, we ought to be getting back.'

‘Yes, of course.'

Aden looked different now, bright and shining, no longer the oppressive place it had seemed a short time ago.

‘Thank you so much for bringing me ashore,' she said.

‘Like I told you, don't thank me! Thank Flight Lieutenant Brittain.'

She could still hardly believe it, that in spite of what he had said it was Gerald Brittain she had to thank for this. It was incredible that someone so arrogant, so totally without feelings, should have arranged things for her not once, but twice.

She had always felt he had fixed the passage partly because the Comtesse had asked it of him, partly because he wanted to prove it could be done.

But this … this had been done quickly and quietly. When he had told her she could go ashore, he had given not the slightest indication that it was his doing – she felt ashamed when she thought how coldly she had received him, blaming him for misleading her instead of thanking him.