* * *
He’d got the number and was through to the house in Belgravia at about eight-thirty, but the maidservant who answered told him that Mrs Buchanan had taken the night train to Glasgow.
‘May I ask who’s calling, sir?’
He gave her his name, which she recognized immediately. Mrs Buchanan had been on the telephone to Barlows’ most of yesterday, she told him, and before she’d left the house she’d heard from them that he, Chalk, had escaped by DSEA. ‘She said you’d have been with poor Mr Buchanan, sir. Half out of her mind, she was. Shouldn’t be going all that way on her own, I told her!’
Hanging up, he lit a cigarette – the third since getting out of bed – wondering whether she’d be at Helensburgh by now. If she’d had a cab directly from the station…
The Cameron-Greens first, he decided. Might try Diana’s London flat, but she’d almost certainly have been making an early start, be on her way by now. Try it, anyway. Then the C-Gs, and then Zoe – having given her a bit more time to get there.
The ’phone startled him by beginning to ring just as he was about to put his hand on it.
‘Hello?’
‘Rufus?'
‘Diana…’
‘Are you all right? Darling, when did you get back – home, wherever you—’
‘About four. I’m at my digs. And I am all right… You?’
‘Well, I’m dancing with joy now! Oh, Rufus… Are you going up to Glendarragh, or—’
‘Yes – this afternoon. Be there about five-thirty, six-thirty… Where are you?’
‘Carlisle. On my way up. I’ll be there ahead of you, touch wood. Have you spoken to the C-Gs yet?’
‘I was just about to – partly to find out where you might be. You’ll have been in touch with them, I imagine?’
‘Of course. Several times, in the last day or so. And Suzie – Rufus, she’s quite ill, poor darling – I mean from anxiety, stress and strain and—’
‘As one might expect. But they were in touch with Barlows’ – the C-Gs – were they?’
‘Hardly a minute off the ’phone, I gather. They’ve cancelled the party, of course, Pat and Alastair’ve been contacting everyone. Rufus, you’ve been through hell…’
‘I’m damn glad you’ll be there.’
‘Are you?’
‘Think I wouldn’t be?’
‘You sound a bit flat. And anyway it’s – like a huge bomb’s gone off, everyone at sixes and sevens. I’m having to pinch myself now – to believe it’s really you… The last day and a half’s been – I can’t tell you!’
‘When did you hear I was out of it?’
‘Yesterday afternoon, at Manchester. The Cameron-Greens had just heard, I tried to ring Barlows’ for confirmation but their lines seemed to be engaged most of the time, then when I got here I tried again – and tried you, but of course your Mrs Blair didn’t know anything at all except she’d heard that frightful ‘no more hope’ announcement from the Admiralty – when earlier on they’d been saying it was going to be all right, one end was out of water and they’d only to cut a hole… Anyway, I tried again when I got here, and there was no answer. Darling, you’re absolutely all right, are you?’
‘Absolutely. Except it feels all wrong that I should be.’
‘Well, forget that nonsense – you’re all right, let’s make the most of it! Anything to tell Suzie – if I do get there before you?’
‘I don’t think so.’ He drew another lungful of nicotine. ‘Toby gave me a message for her, but only – what you’d expect. In any case I’m going to ’phone Glendarragh now, let ’em know I’m coming.’
* * *
As if a huge bomb had gone off…
Meaning the upheaval might have changed how he and she felt about each other?
Or perhaps she had telepathic powers, had tuned in to his doubt of the wisdom or even morality of marrying at this time.
The doubt was still there, too. It had been in his mind when he’d woken. Perhaps linked to his first thought of Diana: of waking with her in his arms…
Dialling the Buchanan house at Helensburgh, now. Ringing. Then a clatter, and a male voice: ‘Mr and Mrs Buchanan’s residence. Who’s calling, please?’
‘Lieutenant Rufus Chalk. Has Mrs Buchanan arrived yet?’
‘Not yet, sir.’ Chalk had him in his mind’s eye as the one in striped trousers with a tray of drinks. ‘As I understand it, sir, the chairman of Barlows’ Shipbuilders was sending a car to meet the train and would bring Mrs Buchanan to his house. It was Madam’s expressed intention to be wi’ us later, but I couldna say just when.’
‘Well – when you speak to her, tell her I called – and that I’ll be moving around a bit but I’ll try again later.’
Funking it. ‘Try again later’ rather than ask for the number at the chairman’s house and call her there.
At Glendarragh, his call was answered by Alastair, who was effusive in his expressions of relief at Chalk’s survival, and delighted to hear he’d be arriving that evening. He’d tell them: they’d be tickled pink. Diana should be there by late afternoon, too – had he known? Well, yes, poor Suzie was taking it a bit hard: more exhausted than anything else, in his view, she’d had a rotten thirty-six hours of it, poor kid… Chalk ended with ‘Give her my love. Tell her I’m very much looking forward to seeing her.’
Finally, he rang his sister. Betty’s husband fielded the call and told him before he could get a word of his own in, ‘Nothing to tell you yet, Rufus. She’s bearing up well, but it’s very much overdue now. We’re all ready for it, of course, standing by – like fielders in the slips, eh?’ He’d laughed. ‘Look, I’ll call you—’
‘I’ll be on the move, rather. I’ll ring tomorrow morning – all right? Tell Betty I’d better get good news by then, or else… But listen, Dick – if you hear anything about me having been in the submarine that’s been lost on trials—’
‘HMS Trumpeter? My God, you weren’t – were you?’
‘I and ten others got out. That’s why I’m ’phoning. Don’t want Betty alarmed at this stage, do we?’
‘No, my God… But I’d better tell her – since you are out of it – My dear fellow, thank God you are – but what an experience!’
‘Start by giving her my love and say I rang to ask whether my nephew or niece had arrived yet. Then tell her this other thing – so she’s forewarned, forearmed… All right, Dick?’
‘Yes. Very sound. Good man…’
* * *
He was in the Submarine shed, sifting through two days’ accumulation of official correspondence, when he heard Ozzard clump over the board floor into his own office, and went to join him. Ozzard had already made his telephone call, and had been told they were to present themselves at Blockhouse by noon on Thursday 2nd September – the day Diana would be taking off for the Cape. And while Ozzard would be returning here, retaining his command of Threat, Chalk was to be found a shore appointment from which he’d be readily available to attend the Tribunal of Inquiry that was to open in about three weeks’ time in London. Ozzard would have to attend as a witness too, but only for a day or two.
Presumably they’d give him some job at the Admiralty. Frightful thought. An office wallah, pen-pusher… He’d have liked to have seen Threat completed, too, and taken her to sea. And – first thought of all, when Ozzard had told him this – London had become synonymous with Zoe. The only Andrew Murray in Belgravia. Zoe husbandless and Diana at the Cape, for God’s sake.
Buchanan’s face then, in close-up and extraordinary detail. Light-brown eyes slightly bloodshot, sheen of sweat around them, short, gasping breaths as he’d pleaded, ‘You won’t forget…’
Ozzard’s voice broke in: ‘Go down by road, won’t you. Better meet me in the wardroom on Thursday at – say – eleven-thirty. All right?’
* * *
Driving up through Perthshire he hardly noticed anything along the way. Driving like some automaton – as if the car was finding its own w
ay while his thoughts circled, spiralled, side-slipped… Diana’s influence in that… But the only time he was for a while conscious of his surroundings was when he was passing Loch Earn, which under a clear blue sky and blazing sun was quite beautiful, so utterly different from when he’d last driven up this way – pitch darkness, rain coming down in bathfulls – that you wouldn’t have thought it was the same place.
In a sense, it wasn’t. No place was.
Glendarragh, though, was familiar enough, except for a car which he hadn’t seen here before, a grey Morris parked close to the steps up to the front door. He braked beside it, switched off, was climbing out when MacKenzie appeared. ‘A mercy you’re safe and sound, sir.’
‘Be more of a mercy if the rest of them were.’ Glancing at the rather battered Morris. ‘Whose is this?’
‘Dr Graham, sir attending on Miss Susan.’
‘Rufus!’
Diana, then, leaping down the steps. Or rather, loping. Panther-like – beautiful… ‘Oh, Rufus, Rufus…’
They were in each other’s arms. MacKenzie lurching up the steps with Chalk’s suitcase, grimly blind to such unseemly goings on. Diana told him, ‘The family are waiting for you inside. Very kindly left the field clear for me. Darling, it’s been such agony…’
‘Still is, for most of them. There’s some doctor here, MacKenzie said – seeing Suzie?’
The doctor was in the hall, on his way out. Fifty-ish, weathered face, grey hair. Telling Lady C-G, ‘Since she refuses medication—’
‘Refuses?’ She’d seen Chalk coming in behind Diana. ‘Rufus!’
‘Doesn’ae care to take pills, she said.’
‘Well, that’s true, she never has. Not even an aspirin if she could help it. But—’
‘It’s no bad thing, Lady Cameron. If she can get back on her feet through her own efforts – her own courage, I’d say—’
‘But it means we’ve dragged you out here for no purpose, Doctor. I’m sorry…’ Taking Chalk’s hand in both of hers. ‘Dr Graham – Lieutenant Chalk. Rufus dear – it must have been dreadful, but thank God—’
‘Great heavens – you’re one of the fellers that—’
‘One of the lucky ones… Over the worst, is she?’
‘Ah, well. A little early to say that.’ A smile at Lady C-G… ‘I wouldn’ae say no purpose, my lady. The shock of seeing me and my bag of tricks may well have triggered a recovery.’ The smile faded. ‘Mind you, she’ll need all your support still. She’s a brave wee lass, but like the rest of us she’d have her limits.’ Glancing at Chalk, he frowned, peered more closely: ‘You don’t look too grand yourself, Lieutenant.’
‘Tired, that’s all.’
‘Indeed… I’d prescribe a week’s complete rest—’ his eyes went from Lady C-G to Diana – ‘in caring hands. If I were asked, that is.’
‘Very much what the doctor ordered.’ He put his arm round Diana and asked Lady C-G, ‘Can I see Suzie now?’
‘I’ll take you up in a minute. Diana, be a dear, tell MacKenzie we need more tea? And cake – you must be hungry, Rufus—’
‘Rufus!’
Alastair, smiling broadly: ‘Absolutely spiffing!’ His mother was seeing the doctor out, and Diana had rung for MacKenzie. Alastair rattling on, ‘Awful about Toby, of course. Suzie is taking it frightfully hard… When you feel up to it, old man—’
He was slightly dizzy, he’d just realized. Doctors – they made you aware of ailments you didn’t know you had. Alastair’s last words trailed through his consciousness – ‘Tell us all about it…’ He didn’t want to think about it, let alone give lectures. They’d somehow transferred to the drawing-room, he found; and Sir Innes was joining them. ‘My dear fellow, what a great pleasure – as well as relief…’
Tea would go down quite well, he thought. That or a double Johnny Walker. Or – in this house – a large single malt. Bit early for that, though. Mrs Eason’s voice: Double gin – straight. Poor Mrs Eason. And such a waste of a splendid man: like dropping something of great value down a drain, just as senseless… Lady C-G had rejoined them, while Sir Innes and Alastair were competing for different ways of saying what a frightful experience it must have been. ‘Eleven out of how many, was it? Knocked Suzie for six, of course – but you’ll help there, make all the difference—’
‘As well as Diana’s help with this flying business. That’ll help to get her mind off—’
‘I’ll just nip up and see her.’ Diana, to Lady C-G. ‘I’ll tell her Rufus is here. Hello, Pat.’
Patricia – smiling at Chalk as she and Diana passed each other in the doorway. Double doors, old dark oak, same as the room’s panelling. Chalk echoed Diana’s words, but with more emphasis: ‘Hello, Pat.’
‘Rufus. How marvellous.’
Narrowing those blue-grey eyes, though – up close, gazing up at him with the same sort of questioning look he’d seen on the doctor’s face. Her hand closed firmly on his arm: ‘Better sit down. Here—’ steering him towards a sofa – ‘Sit, put your feet up. Come on – before you fall down… Get him a brandy, Alastair, for Pete’s sake…’
* * *
Suzie came to see him.
He’d passed out, apparently, slept on that sofa for a couple of hours, woken to find they’d taken his shoes off and covered him with a rug. Since then he’d come up to his room and had a lukewarm bath. The plumbing system wasn’t all that efficient.
Barefooted, in his dressing-gown, opening the door to Suzie. He’d forgotten what a stunner she was. That dark hair and blue eyes: even pale as she was, and with dark bruises under the eyes. Her face looked thinner too – the cheekbones more prominent, eyes deeper-sunk.
Guy’s girl. But more grown up than that one had been. ‘How are you, Rufus?’
‘Wrong question.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘How are you?’
‘I’ll – survive. In fact – I’m really quite all right. Really. You must have been absolutely played out.’
‘Hadn’t noticed it until your Doctor Graham told me I was. That’s doctors for you – like witch-doctors casting the evil eye… Suzie—’ he shut the door – ‘I am dreadfully and most sincerely sorry.’
‘Tell me how it was?’
He nodded. From Suzie, it was an acceptable request. ‘Quite a lot to tell. I don’t know how much of the technicalities you’d want. But I’ll give you as much as I can – if you can stand it, Suzie.’
‘I can. Must.’
‘I think you’re probably quite right. And the first thing is he asked me to give you his love. Not – as you might guess – near the end – much earlier. He was about to try something very dangerous, getting into a flooded compartment to shut the rear door of a torpedo-tube so we could then pump it out.’
‘Did he manage it?’
‘No. Made two attempts, but both times the men with him couldn’t stand the pressure and he had to give up. And by that time he was played out. He was a brave man, Suzie.’
Holding her, while she cried against his shoulder…
* * *
Both invalids went down for dinner. Chalk was still shaky, but he thought that having told her the whole story as far as it was comprehensible had probably been good for her. In the long run he felt sure it would be: there’d be no room for imaginary demons to torment her.
Dinner – it was the standard Glendarragh-type menu – wasn’t as relaxed as family meals in this house had been usually, but it wasn’t bad in all the circumstances – which could be summarized as (1) Toby Dymock’s death, (2) the effects of the 36-hour ordeal on Suzie, and (3) she and the rest of them knowing that he, Chalk, had been dead against her involvement with Dymock.
Guy was there too, in the background – and not only in his mind. The fact nobody asked for news of him was proof of it. Guy who’d been so warmly welcomed here, and was now God only knew where.
(Franco’s rebel forces had all the Basque provinces and the Asturian mines in their control now – all the mineral resources which the Germans wante
d to get their hands on – while Republican offensives near Madrid and in Aragon had ground to a halt. If the writing had been on the wall before, it was in capital letters now.)
He had an urge to break a silence with ‘I haven’t heard anything from Guy, yet.’
Just to have them acknowledge his existence…
But it would have been churlish to have rubbed salt in Suzie’s wounds. She’d told him, in their long talk upstairs, that when she’d heard the Admiralty’s announcement of rescue attempts being abandoned, she’d thought of killing herself, and had known how she’d do it. Her father’s guns were in a locked cupboard in the smoking-room, but she knew where he kept the keys.
MacKenzie, re-entering the dining-room, was coming round to this side of the table with his eye on Chalk and a slip of paper in his fingers. They’d heard the telephone a minute ago, and he’d padded out to the hall to answer it.
‘If you’d kindly telephone to this number, sir, when convenient.’ Low-voiced, stooping to put his grey head close to Chalk’s red one. ‘The lady said it was urgent.’
Zoe – at Helensburgh…
Folding the page of notepad and pushing it into his top pocket, meeting Diana’s querying look and cursing himself for not having called her as soon as he’d got here. He explained, ‘Wife of Barlows’ financial director – man called Buchanan.’ To Sir Innes: ‘You had him here to shoot once.’
‘Oh, that chap…’
‘He was a passenger in Trumpeter – first time out in a submarine, wanted to see for himself what it’s like. I was explaining things to him as we went along. And—’ he took a deep breath – ‘he gave me a message for his wife.’
Scrape of Suzie’s chair, as she pushed it back. She’d put down her napkin: for whiteness, her complexion matched it. Chalk began, half up, ‘Suzie – I’m sorry, stupid of me—’
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