Strike from the Sea (1978) (24 page)

The Indian porter hurried forward to open the door, saluting as he did so. He saw Ainslie and bobbed. ‘Ah, Commander-sahib, splendid to see you again.’

Ainslie darted a glance at Torrance but he had apparently not heard.

He said, ‘Thank you,’ and thrust some loose change into his ready palm.

She was seated at one of the small tables, and was even wearing the same white dress.

As they approached she sat very still, her eyes on her husband, and yet somehow looking at Ainslie.

‘Brought your friend along. Thought he might need a drink.’ He snapped his fingers at a waiter. ‘Christ, I’m parched.’

Ainslie took her hand. Then she did look at him openly, her lips slightly parted as if she was seeing him for the first time.

‘I’m glad you came. Sit down. It’s so hot, isn’t it?’

Torrance was speaking with the waiter, his hands moving to describe the size and quality of the drinks he required.

Ainslie said softly, ‘We met at the base. I’d just got in.’

She nodded, a pulse moving in her throat. ‘I know. I’ve thought a lot about you lately.’ She spoke in an unnatural, matter-of-fact tone, but her eyes told a lot more.

A messenger came from the desk and said to Torrance, ‘Telephone call for you, sir.’

Torrance stood up violently. ‘Hold my drinks for me.’ He winked at Ainslie. ‘Keep both hands where I can see them, eh?’ He went off laughing.

Ainslie looked at her, but she showed no concern over his comment, and he guessed she was used to it.

He said quickly, ‘May I just say something?’ He watched her tense, the sudden alarm in her eyes. ‘You look absolutely lovely. I shouldn’t be saying this to someone else’s wife, but I can’t help myself.’

She smiled, pleased or embarrassed he could not tell.

Then she said, ‘I thought you’d forgotten about us.’ She glanced round, but Torrance had his back to them on the other side of the room, his head nodding as he spoke on the telephone. ‘You look so tired, but I shan’t ask you what you’ve been doing.’
Impetuously she touched his arm. ‘I’m glad you said it. Just don’t laugh at me, will you? I mean, later on, when –’

She leaned back, breaking the contact, as Torrance came back from the desk.

‘That was your admiral. He’s had second thoughts about my boats.’ He beamed at them. ‘Thought he might.’

The nurse came through the entrance leading the little girl by the hand. ‘Here’s your daddy, Frances.’

But the child walked past him and stood gazing at Ainslie’s cap on a chair.

The nurse said, ‘We’ve been finishing our Christmas shopping. Mrs Torrance.’

Torrance glanced at the child and asked. ‘All right, Frances?’ She ignored him, but he added, ‘That’s a good girl. Just you trot along, eh?’

He stood up, downing his drink with one swallow, and exclaimed, ‘Damn! I’ve left some important papers in the car. I’ll get ’em before some light-fingered chap gets his hands on ’em!’

With that he was gone, taking long strides, like a man hurrying for a train.

She said, ‘He’s gone for a drink.’ She spoke without bitterness or emotion.

Ainslie held out his hand to the child, feeling the nurse watching him like a protective hawk.

‘Hello, Frances.’

The child regarded him for a few seconds and then turned away towards the stairs.

Ainslie said gently, ‘He said you may be going to England?’

Once, the thought of a long sea passage from Singapore to the U-boat-infested waters of the Atlantic would have seemed extremely hazardous. But now, after what he had seen on the peninsula, he was not sure of anything.

‘If it can be arranged. She had to be a certain age before there was any possibility of treatment. Even then . . .’ She shrugged, the movement painful to see.

Then she said brightly, ‘Anyway, you don’t want my troubles.’ The brightness got no further than her voice, and she added quietly, ‘But thank you, all the same. I don’t feel so alone any more. Ridiculous, isn’t it? You saved my life, and that should be enough.’

Ainslie dropped his eyes. ‘But it’s not, is it?’

Torrance came back noisily. ‘Must have left them at the shipyard. God, the crowds out there. Like a bloody festival!’

Ainslie stood up slowly. He felt as if he were standing on thin glass.

‘Be off, must you?’ Torrance looked at him dully. ‘See you again, I s’pect.’

Ainslie gripped her hand. ‘I have to go. But maybe we can all have a drink together. For Christmas?’

She did not release her fingers. ‘That would be nice.’

Ainslie walked out into the hot evening air, his mind hanging on her words. What was he doing? He must be raving mad to get involved. She had tried to let him down gently, make light of it. Had even warned him that she needed her husband if only for the child’s sake.

It was no use. Just to see her again, to feel her nearness, it would have to suffice.

He recalled suddenly how he had answered her question about not being married.
She married a nice sensible farmer instead
. It had not been like that at all. He had been in love with Penny, or thought he had. She had been unable to put up with it. It was as simple as that. Every time he went to sea she would suffer, be helpless to prevent herself from showing it when he got back safely.

Perhaps the war really did change a man. Maybe only others saw it in you, while the one concerned remained in ignorance until he cracked wide open. He had seen the anxiety in Quinton’s eyes, Halliday’s, too. Was he that bad?

The hotel porter was standing in the shadows, his old topee in his hands. He was quite bald, and the realization that he was much older than Ainslie had believed seemed unsettling.

He replaced his hat carefully and saluted. ‘A taxi, Commander-sahib?’

‘No. But thank you.’

The man followed him to the gates. ‘Be watchful for thieves, sir.’ He lowered his voice. ‘It will be all right, will it not, Commander-sahib?’ When Ainslie looked at him he added uncertainly, ‘The war, the Royal Hotel, everything.’

That about sums up his whole life, Ainslie thought, suddenly moved.

‘In the end. I am sure it will.’

The man seemed satisfied. ‘They dare not invade. We will drive them into the sea.’

Ainslie walked out on to the crowded pavement. With so many people around him it certainly felt safe enough. Then a long way off he heard the crash of breaking glass and the shrill of police whistles.

He turned into a small bar he had visited once before. There were several army officers, and one naval lieutenant who was about to leave. The lieutenant did a surprising thing. He walked across to a Chinese hostess and put his hands on her shoulders.

‘So long, Anna. Take care.’ Then he kissed her and turned on his heel.

Ainslie saw that the girl was crying, the tears running down her face and on to her silk dress.

The lieutenant saw Ainslie and stiffened automatically.

Then Ainslie said, ‘John Welsh, right?’

The lieutenant thrust out his hand. ‘Right.’ He looked at Ainslie’s shoulder straps. ‘I heard you’d done well.’ He grinned. ‘Sir.’

‘Stay for a drink?’

The lieutenant lowered his voice. ‘I’ve been too long in here as it is. We’re sailing in three hours. The whole flotilla.’

‘Where to?’

‘Australia, UK, nobody’s saying. Away from Singapore, that’s all we know. Don’t worry, sir, you’ll soon be following, I’ve no doubt.’ He gestured to the girl. ‘Be nice to her if you like. She’s pretty good.’

Ainslie stared after him, a man he had once known, now a slightly tipsy lieutenant. Getting out. Surely it was untrue? Not the Navy already?

He left the bar without thinking of a drink. He passed a shop and saw the owner about to lower his shutters. Just inside the door was a large yellow elephant.

‘How much?’

The man eyed him doubtfully, measuring up the chances of cheating.

‘For you, sir, very cheap.’ He wilted slightly under Ainslie’s level stare. ‘But as it is Christmas, even cheaper.’

Ainslie picked up the toy elephant and handed the man some notes.

‘This about right? For Christmas, I mean?’

The man ignored the sarcasm. ‘It is
exactly
right.’

Ainslie walked out clasping the stuffed elephant, seeing the grins on the faces of passing servicemen who deliberately saluted him to see how he would manage to return the compliment.

Somehow he got a taxi and ordered the driver to take him to the base. The driver said nothing, did not even try to bargain for the return fare which he would miss by taking a passenger so far.

He was worried, too. Like all the rest of them. It was bad enough for
Soufrière
’s company, they had seen some of it, and knew they could still get away if need be.

What must it be like for these simple people? Rumour and threat. The impossible image of some terrible force coming south towards them, engulfing and destroying everything in its way.

He found the base blacked out, armed sentries everywhere, but when he made his way aboard the submarine Quinton said, ‘No orders for us yet, sir.’

He followed Ainslie below, and grinned when he saw the toy elephant.

‘Mascot?’

‘For the little girl I was telling you about.’

Quinton nodded. ‘Good thought. I’ll bet my folks are getting ready at home, too. A great fat turkey and all the trimmings, in ninety degrees of sunshine!’

Ainslie glanced through the deck log. Men ashore, tomorrow’s routine, a stoker to be charged with drunken assault. The usual.

Quinton said, ‘I’m waiting up to see the libertymen aboard. After a few schooners in the fleet canteen they’ll be ready for a brawl!’

In his quarters Ainslie sat down and poured himself a drink. Across the cabin the elephant regarded him with a fixed stare.

Then he stripped off his clothing and laid down on the bunk, his hands beneath his head.

What would she be doing at this moment? he wondered. Getting ready for bed, with perhaps her drunken husband watching her as she undressed?

He turned his face to the pillow and tried to be rational. But it only got worse, and the thirteen miles from the bunk to the hotel seemed to grow longer and longer.

Captain Armytage looked grimly at Ainslie over his desk. ‘I
will be sending your new orders across to you tomorrow. My writer’s not here.’

Critchley would have said, ‘But it
is
Christmas Day, sir.’ Ainslie merely looked at the wall map. It was beyond belief. The Japanese advanced units were right down in the south-west corner of the peninsula. He felt a chill on his spine in spite of the heavy air. Another hundred and fifty miles and they’d be up to the Johore Strait and the Causeway. It was like a mad dream, a fantasy.

And yet in the past two days he had sensed the sudden change. More air raids on the island, with the amassed anti-aircraft batteries turning the sky into a vivid pattern of shell-bursts and tracer.

It was as if the retreat had quickened its pace and the army units still fighting to stem the enemy advance could only think of that strip of water at their backs, the promised security which awaited them on the island.

Granger had been busy, and Ainslie had seen in his daily orders that several large merchant ships had left the port loaded with the families of British residents and civil servants. The retreat was becoming a rout with each hour.

Ainslie said, ‘You’ll want me to move round to Keppel Harbour.’

‘Well, the admiral does. Personally, I’d order you to destroy the
Soufrière
’s engines and use her guns for covering the Causeway from her present mooring.’

Ainslie was surprised it did not anger him. Armytage was completely out of his depth and using his usual bluster to conceal the fact.

‘Is that all, sir?’

‘For the present.’ He moved two files and replaced them in exactly the same position. ‘Carry on.’

As Ainslie made to leave Armytage said abruptly, ‘Keep it to yourself for the present, but Hong Kong is due to surrender tomorrow.’ It was as if the enormity of his knowledge was too terrible to keep to himself. The final blow, the end of delusion. He added, ‘Borneo looks like going next. It’s the same everywhere.’

Ainslie closed the door behind him and looked at the abandoned typewriter, recalling the typist’s face when he had stopped to listen to Armytage’s scathing attack through the door.

He telephoned straight through to the submarine to make sure everything was all right and that Quinton was having as good a Christmas as could be expected.

Over the telephone his voice sounded more Australian than usual. ‘We’re having a great time. God help us if we have to slip and put to sea!’

‘I’m going to the city, John. I’ll be back in an hour or so. Phone me at the Royal if you need me.’

There was a long pause and then Quinton said, ‘I hope she likes the elephant.’

A naval patrol van drove Ainslie to the city, and the leading seaman in charge said he could be available to drive him back again when required. He did not elaborate, but he obviously thought an unescorted officer might be in some danger.

The fact that it was Christmas Day only made things worse, Ainslie thought. As he hurried into the hotel he saw the paper decorations, a Union Jack flying above a portrait of the King. Across the street a house had been hit by a bomb, while inside the hotel lobby he saw the steps to the cellar had been supported by timbers, with sandbags above and a board labelled ‘Air Raid Shelter, Guests Only’.

There was also a lot of drinking going on. At one table an elderly couple sat facing each other, wearing paper hats and sipping champagne, their faces incredibly sad.

Some were quite drunk, sleeping where they sat or peering round for the busy waiters.

Nobody asked Ainslie who he wanted, like that first time. He climbed the stairs and stopped outside the suite. Then he pressed the bell.

The door opened instantly and the nurse said, ‘Happy Christmas, Commander Ainslie.’

Ainslie smiled and walked inside. An hotel servant was clearing away the Christmas dinner, and the little girl sat on a rug surrounded by presents and bright wrapping paper.

There was even a tree in one corner, decorated with chocolate figures and reindeer.