Submariner (2008) (42 page)

Maybe they’d always shared what might be described as a natural coolness for each other. He couldn’t remember any time he’d
actually been glad to see him.

‘Hello, Charles.’

Stiff nod, expression still not exactly amiable. Melhuish was jealous of him professionally, of course – for some reason or
reasons unknown. And Ann might have spoken well of him at some time? While from one’s own point of view there
was an impression of excessive self-regard reflected in a somewhat supercilious manner.

Saying now, ‘I had rather assumed you’d be ashore.’

A crack at his relationship with Abbie. Mike nodded equably, ‘I was, for a while. Also spent some time looking for you – as
it happens. Heard you’d turned in. Around midday, that was. Sit down, Charles. You had the legs of us last night, uh? But
Shrimp mentioned that you’d seemed fairly knackered.’

‘Slightly touch and go for a while, wasn’t it. One of the things I’m here for is to thank you for what you did. Even if I’d
come out of it in one piece, I’d have been well and truly put through it. Well, I
was
, but thanks to your – intervention …’

‘I was curious to see what was going on. Curiosity darn near killed the cat –
this
one – and by chance happened to get you out of your tight corner. I’m glad of that but I never
set out
to do anything of the kind.’

‘You had a good hammering, I’m told.’

‘Don’t know what was good about it. That Wop had his depth-settings spot-on, consequently damn near got lucky. A bloody Messerschmitt
actually set the ball rolling. I was asking for it, I suppose. Look, if you’d like to compare notes over a gin or two –’

‘Not this evening, if you don’t mind.’

‘Only I told Shrimp I’d be down there – and later I’ve a patrol report to concoct … Are you all right, Charles?’

He looked awful. Eyes dull, with dark rings around them, face pasty-grey, sweaty-looking. Sitting now, at last, fumbling with
a silver cigarette case.

Fumbling because his hands were shaking.

‘I had a letter from Ann, Mike.’

Staring at him: declining the offer of a cigarette. Thinking
Oh Christ
– reacting to the tone of that announcement and the fact Melhuish was still looking down at the rather ornate case he was
fiddling with, sooner than meet Mike’s eyes.

Denounced by Abbie earlier on, now about to hear
Ann
had dropped him in it?

He’d managed a smile. ‘Only
one
letter? I thought she wrote them in threes?’

No answering warmth. Flare of a match, then, ‘What’s called a “Dear John” letter. If you know what that is. Look, I’m only
telling you this because you know us both – or did – quite well. Would you have thought it even possible? That she
could
? When you saw how we
were
together? And – well, imagine it – feeling a bit rough, opening a letter thinking oh how marvellous, bless her heart – and
– well, Jesus –’

‘Dear John meaning she’s – leaving,
breaking up
with you?’ It
had
taken a moment to sink in. Shaking his head: ‘Didn’t occur to me that could be – what you meant … I can hardly believe it,
Charles. I’m – I was going to say shocked, but it’s you must be in shock. Very, very sorry, Charles – Christ, what else can
one say? What is it, some other –’

‘Care to see what
she
says?’

‘No, not really. Your
very
private business –’

‘Some Yank Air Force colonel. The greatest thing ever happened to her, she says, she’s never felt so intensely about anything
in her whole life – three pages of it begging me to understand, forgive her – and
him
, would you believe
that
?’

Staring at the letter open in his hand, head wagging like a metronome. Mike with a hand on his shoulder: thoughts a compound
of personal relief and wondering what Ormrod would have made of it. ‘Look – Charles, come on down and have a stiff one …’

* * *

In the wardroom that evening they were talking about the desert war, Montgomery’s breakthrough at El Alamein which had been
imminent a week ago when
Ursa
and the other two had been on the point of departure with their commandos, and was now a
fait accompli
– Rommel in full retreat and the Eighth Army on his heels, church bells ringing in English villages.

Melhuish had had a few gins, become near-maudlin and finally told Mike, ‘Not up to it, I’m afraid. Any case, thanks for the
support. I’m going to hit the sack.’

Shrimp then, joined as he invariably was by his right-hand men and technical specialists, the new Commander (Submarines),
others including Mike and at least half a dozen other COs wanting news of their brethren’s latest successes radio’d in from
sea. There was a lot going on, and when you’d run out of that you had island gossip. Mike heard Shrimp questioning Sam MacGregor
on the subject of
Unsung
’s defect-list, Shrimp then asking, glancing around, ‘Charles Melhuish not with us this evening?’ and Melhuish’s first lieutenant,
Showell, piping up with ‘He’s a bit out of sorts, sir. Was going to polish off the patrol report and then turn in.’

‘Skipping supper?’

Showell had been a brand-new sub-lieutenant in Shrimp’s anti-invasion flotilla at Harwich in which Mike had had his own first
operational command; he was stocky, red-headed, freckled. He’d looked at Mike, shrugged slightly as if saying ‘Search me’,
and Mike told Shrimp, ‘He was here, sir, had a couple of snorts then skedaddled. But –’ he’d lowered his tone, and there’d
been an interruption at that stage, a message to Shrimp from Gravy. Shrimp returned to the subject a minute later: ‘Michael
– what were you going to say about Melhuish?’

He checked that they were more or less on their own. ‘Only that he’s out of sorts for private reasons, sir – had a “Dear John”
letter from his wife.’

‘Dear John …’ Getting there, then. ‘Oh. I see. But – was this to be expected? You knew them both, I think you told me.’

‘I did, yes. Extremely pretty girl. You’d know Billy Gorst, sir, I expect?’

‘Don’t tell me
he
’s the –’

‘No.’ Mike laughed. ‘Only that I met the Melhuishes at his wedding.’

‘Is Melhuish likely to get over it reasonably quickly?’

‘Honestly can’t say, sir. Most sincerely
hope
–’

‘Damnable, in any case. By the way though, Michael, how’s the delectable Miss French? Over the moon at having you back?’

‘Seems quite pleased about it, sir. Entirely mutual, I may say.’

‘You won’t find it
too
arduous being on the beach eight blooming weeks, then.’

‘Don’t suppose I will, sir.’

‘Greta was asking after you a few days ago. The water’s still swimmable at their Lido, incidentally. Anyway – Lascaris at
noon, right?’

He told Abbie next day, ‘Would have been undiplomatic to have spent the night here. First night in – and Shrimp had asked
if I’d be in the mess. After all, Lazaretto’s where I’m expected to hang out when I’m not at sea. In the week or so before
this last trip I wasn’t there much, was I. Might be what he was thinking about when he asked me that. He’s under orders to
treat COs like Derby winners, but I think one shouldn’t take too much advantage of that – for instance have one’s mess-mates
ask “Where’s Mike?” or “Where’s bloody Nicholson?” and get the answer “Oh, screwing his girlfriend.” Bad for discipline, my
darling, and not terribly good for girlfriend’s reputation. But there’s nothing wrong with mornings and afternoons, is there
– actually I’m all for them.’

‘Me too. As a working girl –’

‘If we were engaged, you see –’

‘We’re not, and as I’ve told you once or twice –’

‘If we
were
, the hypothetical reply to “Where’s bloody Nicholson?”would be “Ashore with his fiancée,as usual.”Totally different sound
to it. That’s the point I’m trying to explain.’

‘I wouldn’t say that in practice it’d make much difference. Very weak reason for getting engaged, in any case. To my mind
we’re fine as we are – for now, at any rate.’

‘Well, I think the only reason you’re taking the attitude you are taking is that you don’t trust me. The Ann Melhuish business
– my feckless womanising? Well, I’ll give you the latest – Ann’s husband, Charles, has had a “Dear John” letter from her.
She’s leaving him for some Yank. Doesn’t that tell you something about her natural tendencies?’

‘No. Even if it’s true – the timing’s a
little
coincidental – wouldn’t mean she’s swept
him
off his feet – some sod on the make –’

‘Well,
thank
you –’

‘Not referring to you, you know perfectly well I wasn’t. Mike darling, leave it,
can
we?’ Her arms slid round his neck, her breasts against his face. ‘Unless you want to make me love you less?’

Shrimp, in their patrol-report meeting in the Castile at noon – Melhuish had been and gone by then – had run his eye over
the three or four typed foolscap sheets and had little to add to his previous comments.

‘Shouldn’t have been there in the first place. Well, you’re aware of that. But you made up for it in several ways; and the
extensive damage to
Ursa
is not a major issue, since she’s only to be fixed up for the passage home. And that’s that. Next question – what to do with
you for a couple of months. First, you’d better take a week off. Then, the obvious and most useful thing’s the Lazaretto Ops
Room,backing up Johnno Broadbent.
He could use you, all right – heck of a lot going on, and now a biggish show in prospect, in which we’ll be heavily involved.
I’ll be away shortly, by the way – Cairo, by Dakota, with a temporary replacement here. Anything else, meanwhile?’

‘I’ll be working with Broadbent, but also Spare CO?’

‘Technically,but Hugo Short’s ahead of you for any seagoing replacement. He’s been sitting around grinding his teeth for months
… That all?’

‘Except that I don’t need a week, sir. Two or three days, perhaps?’

A nod. ‘Fix it with Broadbent, Michael.’

He hadn’t said anything to Abbie at this stage about his projected few days on the loose or the work he’d be doing at Lazaretto
thereafter because he had yet to see Johnno Broadbent and tie it all up; and since concluding that rather hurried Castile
interview with Shrimp had been giving thought to his best options and/or preferences as he’d put them to the SOO when he did
see him. To start with, he needed to be available in his capacity of CO of
Ursa
for a day or two – paperwork mainly, sailors’ personal documents and the forwarding of requests, dozens of lesser items requiring
his signature. This would take him to the weekend, which he’d spend with Abbie if she wasn’t working or whatever – and then
– well, Monday to Wednesday he’d take as his three-day leave,and stay with her in her flat. Nights anyway; days, might hike
around the island. She might even get a few days off herself. But once he’d started work as Deputy SOO – Thursday onward –
he’d be living at Lazaretto. Have to be – so Broadbent could be off the hook occasionally – or when he wanted – and this might
not help in the situation
vis-à-vis
Abbie. Looking down at her sprawled,
lovely
body, tanned arms and shoulders and a leg thrown across his own; most certainly not wanting to make her love him less, but
realising it might happen.

Swimming – at the Lido, Pembroke House, practising his crawl to quite a long way out while Abbie and Greta sunned themselves
on the rocks. It wasn’t exactly a cloudless day and from time to time they covered themselves, but the sea was still warmish
from the long hot summer. The Gravies had invited them – this was a Saturday,Abbie hadn’t been working, and Mike’s colleague
Johnno Broadbent had been prepared to look after any crises occurring in the Ops Room, especially with Mike in easy reach
by telephone to/from Pembroke House.

Broadbent, lieutenant-commander, was several years senior to Mike but confined to shore duties on account of a problem with
his eyes which had been caused by a torpedo warhead exploding in its tube, in 1939. He was an easy-going but very intelligent
man with a scarred forehead, prematurely greying hair and a wife and two small children of whom he had leather-framed portraits
in his cabin. Mike had co-operated with him in the planning of Operation ‘Backlash’, and they got on well.

Shrimp had been gone a week and there was no date yet
for his return: he was with the planning staff in Cairo. His temporary replacement,Captain Andrew Swann DSO,having had only
three days taking over from Shrimp was of course heavily reliant on his senior staff, also tended to keep to himself, especially
in terms of appearances in the wardroom. Naval tradition was for a ship’s captain to live and mess on his own, whereas Shrimp
believed in living amongst his officers, knowing their personalities and problems as well as ensuring that they were aware
of his.

Nothing wrong with Andrew Swann. Only that in this flotilla Shrimp was
not
actually replaceable.

Mike wasn’t seeing as much of Abbie as he’d have liked. She’d understood from the start that he wasn’t going to be able to
spend whole nights out of the base,and maybe because they were getting about a week together before the new routine commenced
it hadn’t seemed so bad. She’d been able to take a long weekend, that first one, so they’d had Saturday to Monday and then
the Tuesday and Wednesday nights. They’d swum twice and dined once at the Gravies’, made a trek across the island, over the
same route he’d taken with Jarvis and Danvers. Abbie missing Vera the donkey, who Pop Giddings had told Mike was slightly
lame. Abbie had asked Mike to visit the animal and wish her an early recovery, and he’d said he would although as yet he hadn’t.
He
had
taken Abbie to the base, though, shown her round a visiting T-class boat and spent some time with Johnno, whom she’d liked
and had met a couple of times at the Gravies’.

That trip across the island, though – during their stop for picnic lunch and sunbathing etc. before swimming across the head
of St Paul’s Bay she’d murmured at a certain point, ‘Vera
should
be with us. Not just for transport – essential scenery, remember?’