Strike from the Sea (1978) (25 page)

Surprisingly, Rear-Admiral Granger was sitting in a deep chair, a drink in his fist, his pipe puffing as usual.

He grinned. ‘Come in, Robert. Don’t mind me. Friend of the family.’

Ainslie saw her watching him from another doorway opposite
him. She wore a long dress in pale yellow with a red flower pinned at the point of her shoulder. He saw that her hair was no longer in a coil but hung down her back untied.

He held out the elephant. ‘For Frances.’

She moved towards him, her eyes never leaving his. ‘That was nice of you. It matches my dress. What do you say, Frances?’

But the child did not look up from her collection of presents.

‘I can’t stay. I just thought I’d like to wish you –’ He stopped, feeling the hopelessness sweeping over him.

She took his hands in hers and said, ‘You
will
stay. Please. My husband has gone to visit some friends with Shelly. You just missed them.’

Granger said, ‘You sit down, like Natalie says, Robert.’ He became serious. ‘I’m here for another reason. I’m putting them in a ship tomorrow. One of the last big ones to leave.’

Ainslie looked at her, glad for her safety, hating the sudden ending of it. Of what, he wondered?

He said, ‘That’s good news.’ He smiled at her. ‘I’ll sleep better now.’

Granger looked at his watch. ‘Must dash. Got to drop in on some of the ships. Wet the baby’s head, so to speak.’ He watched her as she went to collect his cap and then murmured, ‘It’s bad. We’re not getting the reinforcements. If we can’t hold them at the Johore Strait, it will be weeks, not months.’

He gave a broad smile as she re-entered the room. ‘Fine, then. I’ll be off.’

She kissed Granger on the cheek and said, ‘It was good of you to come.’

The servant went out with the admiral, and the room was suddenly quiet.

Ainslie sipped his drink and watched her as she tidied the child’s presents and then stood the elephant beside her on the floor.

What sort of a man was her husband? To go off on some pretext or other with her sister? The thought made him angry for her.

She crossed the room and looked into his glass. ‘Another?’

‘In a minute.’

She sat on the arm of his chair and watched the child. ‘She’ll love the elephant.’

He said very quietly, ‘I’m going to miss you. Very much.’

For a moment he thought she had not heard, then she reached behind her and seized his hand, squeezing it so tightly it hurt.

He said, ‘I’ve no right, no right at all. But being here with you like this, it means everything.’

She turned, her hair touching his shoulder as she looked down at him.

‘It means a lot to me, too. Really. I’m not saying it just because I’m leaving. I’m not like that.’

The nurse was busying herself in the other room, but she could have been on a different planet.

Ainslie put his hand gently on her hip, feeling her warmth under the dress. She did not move away but watched him, her eyes very bright.

She said huskily, ‘You had better stop.’ Then she stood up, her hand still holding his.

He got up, his mind dazed.

She said, ‘You should leave before he comes back.’ She met his gaze, and he saw her chin lift as she added, ‘I don’t want him to spoil it.’

Together they walked to the door. Once through it and it would all be finished. It was hard to accept, harder still to believe.

He had his hand on the door when she said, ‘Kiss me, please.’

She stood quite still as he put his arms around her, her eyes closed as he kissed her on the mouth, feeling her against him, the urgent heartbeats matching his own.

‘Mrs Torrance!’ The nurse’s voice made them move apart with something like guilt.

But the nurse seemed oblivious to their embrace and what it meant. She was pointing at the child, who was walking very slowly towards the door.

When she reached them she looked up at Ainslie, her face still devoid of any recognizable expression. Then with equal gravity she reached up to him, opening her hand as she did so.

Ainslie stared at the paper flower in the child’s hand.

The nurse said quietly, ‘It may be nothing, Mrs Torrance. Don’t get your hopes too high now!’

But Natalie Torrance was on her knees, holding the child and saying, ‘Oh, Frances, darling! You want to give him a present, too!’

The child released herself and walked back to her elephant without another glance.

Ainslie helped her to her feet and held her against him, sharing the small moment of hope.

She exclaimed, ‘She knew you, Robert, she
really
did! She’s not done anything like that before!’

He raised her chin with his fingers and studied her face. ‘I really am leaving, Natalie. I’ll drop an address where I can be contacted when I’m in England. If you want to see me, that is.’ He stepped back, feeling her slipping away. ‘Take care.’

She nodded, unable to speak properly. ‘You, too.’

The door closed, It was over.

Just out of sight from the hotel he found Rear-Admiral Granger waiting for him in a Humber staff car.

‘I’ll drive you.’ He waited for Ainslie to settle himself before saying, ‘I guessed the score. Thought you might be good for each other.’

The car glided through the drifting people and the admiral added, ‘Something’s happened, hasn’t it?’

‘The child. They think she recognized me.’ He took the paper flower from his pocket. ‘She gave me this.’

‘That’s really something.’ The admiral shook his head. ‘Her husband, Guy, got much worse after the accident. The driver of the car was drunk, it turned out, and I suspect Guy’d had a few, too, but he was thrown clear. The child was hurled against a tree. Rotten business.’

Ainslie thought about it. Until now he had imagined that Guy Torrance had been the direct cause of the accident.

‘You’ll get them aboard that ship tomorrow, sir?’

‘Yes. It will have a good escort. Just as well. The Japs have already sunk a few of our transports outside the port.’

They drove past saluting sentries and into the base. Then the admiral said, ‘Watch your step if you meet up with the Torrances again. He may be a drunk, but he has power, and would use it against you at the drop of a hat.’ He grinned. ‘But
I’m wasting my time telling you that, aren’t I?’ He drove away, the pipe jutting from his jaw like a gun.

Ainslie walked through the deserted buildings and on to the jetty. Try as he might he could not forget how she had looked as she had closed the door on him.

Nor did he wish to. Ever.

12

Obligations

QUINTON SHADED HIS
eyes with one hand as he stared across at the busy waterfront. It was like bedlam. Every class and size of harbour craft, fishing boats and stately junks crowded the anchorage from end to end.

In the midst of the chaos some large merchant ships, elderly cargo liners, were hastily completing loading, their derricks diving and probing towards the lighters alongside like gaunt prehistoric monsters devouring their prey.

Petty Officer Voysey shouted from the fore-casing, ‘All secure, sir!’

Ainslie waved to him. ‘Ring off main engines.’

It had been a strange passage from the Johore Strait, around Changi Point and down here to the main harbour in the south. A feeling of escape, of loss.

And now what? Wait for more orders. To head for England. To stay and evacuate the top brass. To scuttle the submarine and get away by other means.

Quinton said, ‘Like a bloody madhouse. Look at ’em!’

When people realized there were no more big ships, no further hope for the masses of frightened refugees, it would get far worse. All the old pent-up hatreds and grievances, the rigid barriers between white and coloured residents would explode into a separate war altogether.

A siren hooted mournfully, and the yeoman of signals said, ‘The biggest of the transports has weighed, sir.
Bengal Princess
. She used to be on the run to Japan before this lot. Seems like a bad joke now.’

Ainslie trained his glasses on the dull-painted transport as it began to glide clear of the other shipping. She would be somewhere on board, she might even see the rounded grey hull of the
Soufrière
before the ship cleared the harbour and joined the waiting escorts.

Quinton was watching him thoughtfully. ‘Any orders, sir?’

Ainslie looked down at the seamen who were taking away the unwanted wires, while Voysey, under the cold eye of Farrant, the gunnery officer, checked the lashings on the moorings and prepared to run out the brow.

Peace or war, a commanding officer still had his routine to follow.

‘Find out from the hospital how our AB is getting on.’

It was incredible that the man who had been wounded, right here on
Soufrière
’s bridge, was still alive. The PMO had said he had a hole in his side you could put your hand in. Hunt, the SBA, could take the credit for his survival.

With the inlet overrun and captured by the enemy there was no way of knowing whether the other seaman who had been cut down by the mortar bomb on the pier was alive or dead. It would mean a letter to his parents.
Missing
. That must be even worse. Not knowing. Losing hope every day.

He said heavily, ‘Tell the Chief to go over all the machinery. If he needs spares we shall have to get them fast. I think we’re a bit isolated in all this muddle.’

Quinton turned to leave. Then he asked, ‘Was everything all right? With the elephant and things?’

Ainslie nodded. ‘Yes. But they’re well out of it now.’

The coxswain heaved his massive frame through the hatch and saluted, his eyes watering in the sunlight.

‘What about leave, sir?’

Ainslie shrugged. ‘I’m waiting to hear. But it will be confined locally, I expect.’

Gosling considered it. ‘We staying, sir?’

‘Doubt it. As the air raids increase it’ll be too dangerous to stop here.’

He looked towards the colourful waterfront. Now everyone would know about the
Soufrière
. That would mean the Japs knew, too.

He lowered himself through the hatch and made his way to his cabin.

Forster was waiting for him, his face grim.

‘If it’s about the muck-up you made, Pilot, you can forget it. I imagine it will not occur again.’

But Forster showed no sign of relief. He said, ‘Well, thanks a lot, sir. But I was thinking of something else. I – I was
wondering if I could make a special signal from here. I want to tell someone not to worry.’ He ended lamely, ‘To wait until I get back.’

Ainslie sat down and stared at him. ‘A woman, no doubt.’

‘The wife of
Psyche
’s skipper, sir.’

Ainslie nodded. ‘Widow.’

‘Well, yes, that is . . .’ He clenched his fists. ‘I want to marry her.’

‘There’s a child involved?’

‘There will be, sir.’

‘I see.’ He wanted to have a shower, to be alone for a while, but Forster’s anxiety pushed it aside. Perhaps he was growing up after all. It was to be hoped he did not regret it later on. ‘You’re certain about this?’

‘Quite, sir.’

‘Very well. I’ll get it sent off today if you let me have the details. It will make a refreshing change from most of the signals from Singapore, I should think.’

Forster went out, looking like a condemned man who has confessed at the last minute.

Petty Officer Vernon tapped on the door. ‘Shore telephone line connected, sir.’ He grinned through his beard. ‘Makes a change.’

Ainslie leaned back and ruffled his hair as the door closed. He knew what Vernon meant. In other times a submarine, even the big
Soufrière
, would have been well down the list for telephones. There were few other vessels of any size flying the white ensign here now.

He started as the telephone buzzed, remembering those other occasions, like the little colonel when he had received news of Critchley’s death.

He picked it up. It was Rear-Admiral Granger.

‘Good, you’re alongside then.’ He sounded very near and as if he was worried. ‘I’m sorry I’ve got to drag you ashore so soon. Something’s come up. Rather urgent. The FOIC wants you in his office right away.’

Ainslie said, ‘I’ll be ashore in fifteen minutes, sir.’ He waited, thinking of all the staff officers with no ships to supervise.

Granger added, ‘Are you ready for sea?’

Ainslie moved to the edge of his chair, his old instincts flashing a warning.

‘Yes. Fuel, torpedoes recovered, all but some machine-gun ammunition.’

‘I’ll get on to the commodore’s office about it.’ The admiral seemed relieved.

Ainslie put down the telephone. Another job. He had been expecting it, so what was the matter with him? He stood up, searching for his cap.

By the time he got through the army pickets and barbed wire barriers a staff car had arrived for him. It carried him to a newly commandeered building on the city outskirts, again heavily protected by anti-aircraft batteries and armoured scout cars.

Ainslie had only met the admiral once before. A tall, austere man, with neat grey sideburns and a Victorian face.

There was a senior RAF officer present, too, and a foreign-featured man in a cream, light-weight suit.

Granger was also there, looking tired, even dispirited.

The admiral said, ‘This is Air Vice-Marshal Thomas, my opposite number, and Major Zahl, American Intelligence.’

They all shook hands, checking what they saw, assessing viewpoints without words.

A lieutenant brought Ainslie a chair, and the admiral said briskly, ‘You will know the present position better than most. I’ll not go over it all again. What might have been done, what should have been prevented, and so forth. It’s water under the bridge now. What
we
have to do is to stop a disaster from becoming a disgrace as well.’ He nodded to the American.

Major Zahl had an easy voice, totally at odds with what he had to say.

‘The fact is, Commander, the United States’ commitment in the Pacific is still reeling from Pearl Harbour. Next year, things may be different, who can say? But right now we cannot help the Commander in Chief here.’ He gave a small shrug. ‘Except by sharing what we know.’