We Joined The Navy (32 page)

The senior cadets’ examinations began in the Bay of Biscay. Although
Barsetshire
’s examinations were seldom difficult and had little ultimate bearing on a cadet’s future, the cadets took them seriously because they were the only means of leaving
Barsetshire
and becoming a midshipman.

When
Barsetshire
had been in the dockyard for several days and the Ship’s Company were preparing for leave, an Admiral arrived alongside with his flag flying from his car. The ship was not expecting an Admiral and there was some speculation about the purpose of the call until The Bodger took the Flag-Lieutenant aside. A Prize-Giving was quickly organised.

Tom Bowles won the Sword for the most outstanding cadet of the term. Isaiah Nine Smith won the Seamanship Prize, the Navigation Prize, and the Prize for the highest aggregate of marks in the examinations, while Paul won the set of drawing instruments awarded to the cadet who gained the highest marks in the Engineering Paper.

The cadets were called at five o’clock on their last morning and left
Barsetshire
as they had joined her, in gentle but persistent rain.

Halfway through the leave period, while the cadets were waiting for their appointments as midshipmen, Mrs Vincent gave a party for Paul. Michael was very pleased to receive an invitation. After the excitements and hurly-burly of
Barsetshire
, Michael was already beginning to be a little bored with being at home. Michael was impressed when he saw Paul, standing with his mother waiting to welcome his guests.

Paul’s hair was brushed, his face was scrubbed and shining, his dinner jacket had been freshly pressed and his tie had a crisp bow.

‘Paul, you look disgustingly smooth,’ Michael said enviously.

‘Thank you, kind sir, she said,’ said Paul. ‘Mother, I’d like you to meet a great friend of mine. This is Michael Hobbes. He and I have been through a lot together.’

Mrs Vincent held out her hand. ‘How do you do, Michael. Paul has mentioned you in his letters.’

‘It’s all lies, Mrs Vincent,’ Michael muttered.

‘Dear boy. Now go straight in and make yourself at home. You’ll find lots of people you know.’

‘What a nice boy,’ Mrs Vincent said to Paul. ‘He must look charming in uniform. I
do
wish you’d all worn your uniforms, darling.’

‘Mother dear, I’ll wear my uniform when I get married. That’s a promise.’

Michael hesitated on the threshold. Going into a room full of people was for him a sensation like plunging into cold water. He braced himself and went in. At first he could see no one he knew. Everyone was talking without looking in his direction. Then he saw Raymond Ball talking to a blonde girl in a red dress, and George Dewberry standing by the bar.

‘What ho, Mike’ George Dewberry said. ‘Nice to see your ugly mug again.’

‘Don’t keep talking in clichés, George, for God’s sake,’ Michael said nervously. ‘Tell me, do you know anybody here?’

‘Not a soul. What’re you drinking?’

‘Nothing yet. What’s that?

‘Dry Martini. First time I’ve tried one. Try it. It’s good.’

Michael wavered. He was still a novice at drinking. He had made far less use of his opportunities than George Dewberry.

‘I think I’ll just have some sherry.’

Michael stood sipping his sherry and after a time became conscious that someone was looking at him. He looked round and caught the eye of a young man whom he had never seen before standing with a dark-haired girl in a russet-coloured dress.

‘Don’t mind us,’ said the young man, grinning. ‘I was just betting Mary that you were in the Navy.’

‘Oh.’

‘Am I right? What do you do between drinks?’

‘Well, actually, I am in the Navy.’

‘There,’ said the young man to the girl triumphantly. ‘What did I tell you?’

‘Very clever of you, Stephen,’ said the girl.

‘I shouldn’t really have asked you. It stands out a mile.’

‘I’m sorry about that,’ Michael said.

‘You National Service or Regular?’

‘Regular.’

‘Tough luck. What was the trouble, your old man hard up at the time?’

‘No, not exactly, I rather wanted to do it.’

‘Well, there’s no accounting for taste.’

‘No, I suppose not.’

Michael flushed and felt himself growing angry with this supercilious character who talked so airily about the Navy. He was taller than Michael, and fair-haired, with very pale blue eyes. He was wearing a single-breasted dinner jacket which hung open to show a grey brocade cummerbund decorated with a design of chrysanthemums. To someone as fresh as Michael from the dedicated atmosphere of the Cadet Training Cruiser, this conversation tasted of heresy. Michael wondered what The Bodger would make of it.

‘By the way, we haven’t introduced ourselves. It’s an old custom, you know. My name is Stephen and this is Mary. I don’t know your name?’

‘Michael Hobbes.’

‘Please to meet yer.’

‘Where are you stationed at the moment, Michael?’ asked Mary. ‘Are you with Paul?’

‘I was, but I’m not now. We’ve both just come from the Training Cruiser. I don’t know where we’ll go now.’

Stephen was interested. ‘Not the
Barsetshire
? Were you on board when they had that revolution?’

‘Yes. Why?’

‘My goodness, that must have been quite a party. We had the most
garbled
stories here. We got cables that sounded as if our man there was drunk. All about blue-jackets committing the most frightful atrocities amongst the local women, and the hereditary ruler of the place being chased about the streets in a nightshirt....’

‘Stephen’s on the staff of the
Daily Disaster
’ Mary said.

‘He said later on in the night that he was assaulted himself by a drink-crazed sailor. It was all meaty stuff. All the more pity we hadn’t space to print most of it.’

‘Why ever not?’ said Michael. ‘I thought you printed anything about the Navy which made a good story?’

Mary clapped her hands. ‘Oh, well said.’

‘Sarcasm will get you nowhere, my good man,’ said Stephen. ‘Ordinarily we would have pounced on it and played it up but just now with the General Election coming off soon we’re giving all our scandal lines to the Government. Can’t afford to take the heat off them just yet.’

‘Never mind. I expect you’ll find plenty of other opportunities.’

‘Bitter, isn’t he?’ Stephen said to Mary.

‘I think Michael’s quite right.’

The longer Michael talked to Mary, the more he liked her. His feeling for her was indeed more complicated than liking. He was attracted by her voice and her way of dealing with Stephen, but he was repelled by her poise. From her shoes to her hair Mary was smart, even chic, and perfectly balanced; she made Michael feel like a yokel. It galled him to see that she and Stephen knew each other well enough to be able to dispense with polite conversation. With Michael she was polite, with Stephen she was easy and familiar. Michael wondered whether he would ever be able to achieve the same intimacy. It was the first time in his life that he had ever bothered to wonder whether he was interesting a girl in himself or not.

Michael joined Paul. ‘I’ve just met someone who would interest The Bodger,’ he said.

‘He’s coming later on.’

The Bodger is?’

‘Yes. He rang my mother up a few days ago. He’s got a pink ticket from his wife for the evening and he’s going to a dinner at Whites. He said he’d look in here afterwards. By the way, Mike, will you take Janet Willoughby-Cox into dinner? I’ll introduce you.’

Mary and Stephen sat opposite Michael at dinner. On Michael’s left was a girl whose name he saw from the place card was Angela, and on his right was Janet Willoughby-Cox.

While they were drinking clear soup, Janet turned to Michael.

‘Do you hunt?’ she asked.

Michael had anticipated the question on first seeing Janet Willoughby-Cox and he thought that at last it was his turn to be witty.

‘As a matter of fact, I don’t,’ he said. ‘I’m inclined to agree with Oscar Wilde, that hunting is the pursuit of the uneatable by the unspeakable.’

The polite smile vanished from Janet’s face, as though Michael had slapped her. She turned her shoulder and did not speak to him again.

Soon afterwards, Angela remembered that she had someone on her right.

‘Do you play hockey?’ she asked Michael.

Michael was caught in the act of putting some smoked salmon in his mouth and in trying to answer he choked and spluttered.

‘Well, there’s no need to be like that about it,’ Angela said.

‘I was just asking.’ She tossed her head and she too turned away to talk to her partner on the other side.

Mrs Vincent did not allow any smoking or dancing during the meal. Michael ate steadily and in silence. In between courses he listened to the conversations around him.

Opposite George Dewberry, Raymond Ball was regarding his blonde hungrily.

‘What are you thinking about?’

‘Do you really want to know?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well,’ said Raymond Ball, ‘I was just considering asking you whether you would like to go to bed with me after this is all over?’

‘What?’

‘Shush, my dear, don’t shout. This is a personal offer which I don’t make to everybody.’

‘Well! It’s the first time anyone has ever asked me.’

‘Where have you been all your life? In England, I suppose.’ Raymond Ball shook his head sadly. That’s where these foreigners have the edge on us every time. We just haven’t got the word about these things.’

Opposite Michael, Mary and Stephen were giving a faultless exhibition of how to talk to a partner at a party. They were blatantly enjoying themselves. They spoke to no one else but entertained each other. They exchanged gossip and scandal about mutual friends, discussed plays, books and exhibitions, and commented on the latest happenings in London. When they had no subject in particular they filled in with effortless small talk which kept them both laughing. Michael watched them with envy and with growing rage. It was not that Mary was beautiful, or at least not startlingly so, but she had a gaiety and a sincerity which fascinated Michael. He could not bear the sight of her enjoying herself so much with Stephen, especially as he knew Stephen had noticed and was enjoying his discomfort. Michael leaned forward.

‘Do you work for a newspaper too, Mary?’ he asked.

Mary and Stephen both stopped laughing and stared at him. Stephen’s expression made it plain that he was struggling to adjust himself to the phenomenon of this peculiarly gauche young man actually addressing them.

‘My dear
chap
,’ he said. ‘How long have you been in London? Asking a girl a question like that point blank is as good as asking her does she sleep with strangers!’

‘What was that?’ Raymond Ball asked from down the table.

‘Never you mind,’ said Stephen.

‘I’m a secretary,’ Mary said.

‘Oh.’

Michael was saved and distracted by the arrival of the coffee.

‘You’d better watch out, my dear,’ Stephen murmured in Mary’s ear. ‘You’ve got an admirer there, unless I’m very much mistaken. If you’re not careful, he’ll start following you about.’

Mary looked across at Michael, who was despondently sugaring his coffee.

‘I think he’s rather sweet,’ she said.

Michael drank some of his coffee and tried again, this time with Angela. He could think of no subject upon which to start a conversation except the one she had herself suggested.

‘As a matter of fact, I’m rather fond of hockey,’ he said.

‘I
beg
your pardon?’

‘Oh never mind.’

Michael finished his coffee miserably. This was not one of his socially successful evenings. There was nothing he could do now except hope it would soon be over and leave as soon as he decently could.

After dinner the band, which had been playing all evening in a desultory manner, began to play in earnest. The drummer preceded and ended each number with a roll and the saxophonist, trombonist and trumpeter periodically stood up to take solos.

The party split up into groups. Cedric, spruce and hospitable like an usher at the best man’s party after the wedding, had been watching the progress of the party from his place next to Mrs Vincent. When Mrs Vincent was asked to dance by Stephen, Cedric came over and sat next to Michael.

‘Well, I take it you’re in the Navy too, eh?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘For heaven’s sake don’t call me “sir”! Cedric is my name. If you ever want to lose money on the Stock Exchange, come and see me. I can do it better than most’

‘My name is Michael.’

‘Happy to meet you, Michael. I believe I remember seeing you on the platform at Paddington Station, don’t I? You didn’t look very happy then, and you don’t look very happy now, old boy. Let me introduce you to some people . . .’

‘Oh that’s all right, Cedric. I’ve met all the people I want to meet already.’

‘Then why don’t you go and ask her to dance?’

Mary was sitting alone, watching the dancing.

‘I
will
’ Michael said. ‘Excuse me, please.’

‘Certainly, old boy,’ said Cedric.

Michael crossed the floor purposefully, conscious that Stephen was watching him.

‘May I have this dance, please?’

Mary looked up.

‘I’d love to,’ she said.

They took the floor. Mrs Vincent whirled past with Stephen. Raymond Ball was dancing cheek to cheek with the blonde in the red dress who was already wearing a blissful, anticipatory expression.

‘Why do all naval officers dance so well?’ Mary said.

‘What a nice thing to say!’

‘But they do.’

‘Not all of them. Some of them are shocking dancers. They think it beneath them.’

‘Do you think it beneath you?’

‘Not at all. I’m not terribly keen on it but I think it’s one of the things one ought to be able to do. They had lessons at Dartmouth.’

‘When were you at Dartmouth?’

‘Last summer.’

‘Did you like it?’

‘Well, I did and I didn’t. Everything was very strange and new and quite exciting but I never really caught on to what it was all about. I still haven’t but I expect I will eventually. I was jolly zealous though. I dashed about from place to place with the best of them.’