Strike from the Sea (1978)

by Reeman, Douglas

  ‘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.

  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 d
rive 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.