Against the Tide

by John Hanley

  Thankfully, I brought my rifle down to the normal attention position. The official party moved off.

  Knowles turned to face us. ‘Squad – Stand – At Ease!’

  We exhaled together. We had done it and not let the side down. I was able to look around at last. The contingent from college had assembled behind the white railings. Two masters shielded their charges from rubbing shoulders, or anything else, with the representatives from the Jersey College for Girls.

  Saul was edging towards their human barricade seeking a means to subvert authority, as usual. Even if he found a way through, the girls would throw him back. He just wasn’t the sort of fish they’d take home for supper. As he looked like a sack of spuds in uniform, he’d been excused service in the Training Corps.

  One of the masters, sensing his intent, prodded him back into the panting herd, which pinned him to the railing where he spotted me and waved. I waggled my bayonet in response but drew a stern look from Knowles.

  Earlier, I’d felt sure I’d seen Caroline on the top level of the Victoria Pier and now I scanned the crowd for her as people started to move back towards the town.

  Knowles interrupted my reverie and dismissed us. We broke ranks and walked to the side to look more closely at the ship. The militia marched off behind us.

  I loitered, conscious of my sore neck, trying again to catch sight of Caroline. Alan had noticed the bruising around my throat as we washed that morning and had teased me that Caroline was turning into a vampire. For once, I was grateful for the usually hated collar, which hid the marks of Fletcher’s attack. I certainly wasn’t going to tell him the truth about that or my later encounter with Kohler and Caroline.

  I tried again to unravel the puzzle. Caroline and I had been so close when we were apart. During the year she was travelling through America, Italy, and France, studying with Schnabel and other piano maestros, we had exchanged letters nearly every week. We’d had the thinking time to explain our feelings and explore our new relationship, and we’d been frank with each other. Now we could see each other every day, we seemed to clash most of the time. Perhaps it was easier to manage a relationship by post. I just didn’t know what I wanted anymore. I knew we needed to talk though. I couldn’t leave it like this.

  I started to follow the others when I sniffed Shalimar in the air. I turned and there she was, descending the granite steps. She looked straight through me as though I didn’t exist then brushed past on her way to the pier side. My stomach turned a ragged somersault and the question, which had plagued me all sleepless night, was answered in an instant.

  The dark grey destroyer was the perfect backdrop for her golden brilliance and I shuddered in a mixture of delight and frustration. A loud wolf whistle from somewhere on the destroyer’s upper decks made her turn. She smiled to acknowledge the compliment and work stopped on the ship.

  The Dutchman followed her down the steps. He held her hat and cardigan in one hand and a camera in the other. He grinned, then dropped her hat onto the muzzle of my rifle before standing back to snap her with the ship behind. I felt the bile rising again. Had she been discussing us with this bastard? Of course she had. Was it just revenge? Why had she brought him here? Was it to punish me, make me jealous? I wanted to lash out, but not at her. I realised my rifle, with its floppy hat over the muzzle, was trembling in my hand. My bayonet would make short work of that and him.

  Alan nudged me and raised his eyebrows. He nodded towards Caroline, who was now behaving like a fashion model, posing outrageously while Kohler captured her from all angles with his camera. I watched, trembling in confusion, as a man in a crumpled suit, sporting a red and white striped armband, approached Kohler. The Dutchman probably wouldn’t realise that he was an honorary policeman.

  ‘Excuse me, sir, but we would be grateful if you didn’t take any more photographs, eh. We have posted notices about cameras and such like, eh.’

  Kohler looked startled, as much by the man’s curious accent as his request, but smiled engagingly. ‘I am sorry, I was not thinking. Only the girl is so beautiful, I could not resist.’

  Caroline was furious. ‘What do you mean no photographs? Who says so? This is a free country, isn’t it?’ She tapped the unfortunate man on the shoulder. ‘I know you, don’t I? Yes… it’s… you serve in Voisins, don’t you, Haberdashery?’ She sneered at him. ‘Why don’t you get back to your counter and leave us alone, you, you busybody.’

  The haberdasher flushed, tipped his hat at her and stepped back.

  Caroline continued the attack. ‘You haven’t told me who made up this ridiculous order yet. Do you think we are spies? Why can’t we take photographs of our ship, you silly little man?’

  The altercation had drawn the interest of two uniformed policemen, commonly known as Bluebottles, who were observing with some amusement from a little distance away. I was fed up with feeling confused and angry at the way she was treating the man who was only doing his duty. I needed to act. I flicked the hat away, thrust my rifle at Alan and moved forwards.

  Kohler was aiming his camera at Caroline and her prey when I reached out and grabbed his arm. ‘I think it would be wise if you stopped now, Mr Kohler.’ I lifted the camera out of his hands.

  Caroline turned to confront me but I strode off towards the two policemen, leaving her fuming in my wake.

  She caught up with me and tugged my arm. ‘What the fuck are you playing at, Jack? How dare you embarrass us like that.’

  I ignored her and carried on walking. Several people had turned to stare at her and one lady clucked her disapproval of Caroline’s language.

  She grabbed at my uniform. ‘Give me the camera, you shit. Stop when I’m talking to you.’

  I shrugged her off, but knew that she wasn’t going to give up that easily. I stopped, conscious of the growing interest of the crowd. ‘Leave it alone, Caroline. I will return the camera. Now calm down.’

  ‘Calm down? Calm down? Don’t you fucking well tell me to calm down, you bastard. Give me that camera now.’

  ‘Disgusting! Your language is disgusting, young lady. Behave yourself immediately.’ The piercing voice of one of the girls’ college teachers slashed at Caroline.

  She froze then turned slowly to face the woman, who had detached herself from the crowd and was waving a parasol at her. ‘Go impale yourself, you barren old cow.’

  Even the seagulls stopped screeching. In the distance, faint traffic noises, but on the Victoria Pier, only the sound of granite breathing could be heard. The teacher’s eyes narrowed as she strode across the gulf that separated them. She looked Caroline straight in the face. ‘Apologise now, or I shall call the police.’

  Caroline snorted and leant towards her mockingly, her voice controlled and languid. ‘You do, sweetie, and I’ll ram that brolly up your fat arse!’

  The white-gloved hand blurred as it slapped into Caroline’s cheek. ‘You little madam. How dare you!’

  Caroline lifted her arm to hit her back but I grabbed her waist to lift her onto my hip, stepped to the low granite kerb and dropped her over the edge.

  The crowd surged forward as she splashed into the water twelve-feet below. They waited until she surfaced then they roared their approval and treated me to a round of applause. I was turning to apologise to the stunned teacher when I felt the Dutchman’s breath on my neck.

  ‘The camera, Jack, please, unless you wish to join our friend.’

  I attempted to pull away but, with a speed which shocked me, the Dutchman twisted my wrist up between my shoulder blades and applied vicious leverage against the joint. I choked on the pain as he yanked the camera from my hand. He propelled me to the edge, balancing me with the pressure on my wrist. I stared down at Caroline, who was paddling to the iron ladder. He let me free to clutch vainly at the air.

  A khaki arm reached out and pulled me back from the brink. I twisted and collided with Alan as he tripped over a hawser, then I regained my balance. Three of the honour guard had hold of Kohler while a fourth h
eld out the camera to me. The Dutchman offered no resistance but glared with such venom that I stepped back defensively. The crowd was watching this tableau with considerable interest, expecting even more excitement as the Bluebottles started to race the honorary policeman towards the centre of the public disturbance. I reached out for the camera and offered it to the Dutchman.

  ‘Let him go. It was a misunderstanding, that’s all. I’ll sort it out with the police.’

  ‘Are you sure? Don’t you want us to give him a ducking as well?’ Alan seemed to be enjoying himself and the others nodded enthusiastic agreement.

  ‘No. Thank you for your help but enough is enough. Let him go, please.’

  The Dutchman accepted the camera, shrugged free of his guards and managed a rueful smile. ‘Today, you have the army, Jack. Tomorrow…?’ He lifted his shoulders and spread his hands to punctuate the unfinished sentence then backed away.

  The policemen stumbled through the crowd but, before they could start their enquiries, there was a bellow of displeasure from the top of the ladder as Caroline’s dripping head appeared. She shook her matted hair like a crazed dog, spraying us with seawater and slime. Holding her once-white Italian shoes in her left hand, she advanced on the nearest uniformed bobby. Her thin cotton dress clung to her breasts and hips. Her bohemian disregard for underwear brought further clucks of disapproval from the women in the crowd. The policeman, uncertain where to look, examined the blank page in his notebook until her hair dripped onto his arm.

  She cleared her throat and raised her chin to stare at me. ‘Take this down, officer. I wish to swear a complaint against this lout for attempted murder and…’

  While everyone edged forward to hear the evidence and offer their testimony as witnesses, I noticed Kohler casually strolling away towards the town.

  6

  I looked at my watch. Nearly four o’clock. We had been cooped up in this anteroom for over two hours and hadn’t even been offered a drink, let alone lunch. Alan paced up and down, kicking the door at each end. The other three sat on the floor, their backs against the wall. My brother glared at me every time he passed. Typically, our officer had disappeared before we were arrested. That was another of life’s little puzzles: why officers were always there when not wanted, but invariably missing when needed. The police had forced us to hand our rifles to other squad members before they marched us off to the town hall. We still had our belts and bayonets though. We’d been told to wait until the duty centenier had finished his lunch. I supposed this was part of the punishment.

  The door squeaked open. ‘You’re for it now, you young hooligans.’ The poor haberdasher seemed more amused than angry as he ushered us out into the corridor.

  ‘Wait. Come on you lot, smarten yourselves up.’

  ‘Oh for Christ’s sake, Jack. It’s a bit late to start playing the sergeant, isn’t it?’

  ‘Shut up, Lance Corporal Renouf, and do up your buttons. Let’s try and retain some dignity here, shall we.’

  They looked disparagingly at me but started to tidy their uniforms.

  I barked, ‘Squad – Ten – Shun!’

  Our boots crashed in the narrow corridor, making the honorary policeman jump.

  ‘Left – Turn – Quick – March!’ I fell in alongside and marched them to the glass-panelled door at the end of the corridor. The haberdasher rushed after us and opened it wide. I wheeled them in and we clattered to a halt in front of a large, highly-polished desk.

  Centenier Phillips looked up. I silently mouthed several words, which would not have disgraced Saul at his worst. I should have expected it, even though there were several centeniers in this parish. Too late, I’d have to see it through. I’d rehearsed the moment and couldn’t back off.

  ‘Squad – Off – Caps! Reporting as ordered, sir!’ I’d planned to demonstrate our discipline and hoped that the duty centenier would let us off with a short lecture. No chance with Phillips. It would be the rulebook, the whole rulebook and nothing but the bloody rulebook.

  He looked at us with not the slightest hint of amusement on his fat face. ‘I’ll not have weapons in my office. Take them off immediately.’

  I hesitated. ‘Are you sure, sir?’

  ‘Don’t be impertinent, you young pup. Take them off now.’

  I looked at the others. There was a little smile playing about Alan’s lips. We’d practised grounding arms but never bayonets before. As our belts were attached to their scabbards through loops, they would have to come off. ‘Squad – ground – belts!’ The movement was almost synchronised as we flicked the heavy brass buckles on our leather belts. The weight of the scabbards and bayonets dragged on our battledress trousers and gravity did the rest. They clattered to the floor. Phillips would have found himself staring at five pairs of khaki underpants had Alan not decided to stay cool and discard his that morning.

  A crimson flush suffused Phillips’ face. His mouth opened and closed like a starving fish before he found the words he needed. ‘I suppose you find that amusing, but I can now add insulting behaviour and one case of indecent exposure to your catalogue of crimes.’

  ‘We were merely following your orders, sir. I did get you to confirm them.’

  Phillips thumped his fist onto the metal desk, scattering paperweights, pens and paper onto the floor. ‘How dare you. You insolent, stupid boy! Take your scabbards off your belts and get dressed before I have you thrown into the cells. Help them, man, don’t just stand there!’

  The poor constable’s officer collected the bayonets and laid them carefully on the desk while we pulled up our trousers and re-buckled our belts. We were in deep manure, but I didn’t care anymore. I glared at Phillips, determined to find out about the fight he’d had with my father. I fought an urge to grab my bayonet and stick it up his fat arse, but I’d just have to dream on for the moment. He glared back then turned to his clerk, who was biting his lip, clearly trying to suppress a giggle or two. ‘The charges, please.’

  The man coughed, and in a dry voice, just on the right side of hysterical, read out the list of complaints from various members of the public. There was no mention of the Dutchman. In the excitement, he had been overlooked.

  Phillips listened, made notes and showed his disbelief. He tapped his pen on the desk, weighing his words. I expected a gale of outrage but was surprised when he spoke softly.

  ‘I will need to consult with the constable on this before I summon your parents and your headmaster. This sort of behaviour has to be stamped on firmly and I do not wish any technicality,’ he stared directly at me as he stressed the word, ‘to influence the correct course of action. However, I will say this. If I were your parents, I would thrash you until you begged forgiveness and, if I were your headmaster, I would seriously question your right to wear those uniforms.’

  He let his final words hang in the air then stood up and nodded to the clerk. ‘Dismissed, for further reports.’

  ‘But, sir. Don’t you want to hear our side of the…’ I spluttered at his retreating back as he waddled out of the room.

  Alan and the others bounced out into the street. I followed more thoughtfully. To Alan it was all a huge joke. He didn’t realise how vindictive someone like Phillips could be. At best, there would be serious embarrassment for the family. At worst, we could all be expelled or even birched, or both, and all because of my bloody-minded former girlfriend.

  Released into the sunshine and the clatter of traffic at the busy intersection, the remnants of our honour guard could contain themselves no longer. They slumped against the ornate granite wall, their chests heaving with laughter.

  ‘Well, I think my clever brother should treat us all to some grub and an espresso. You lot coming?’ Alan had brushed down his uniform and was admiring his reflection in the arched window.

  I tugged some coins from my pocket. ‘Here, you treat them. I’m not in the mood.’

  ‘Oh, I suppose you’re going off to mope about your bloody girlfriend. Come on, man, forget the bitch
. Come and drown your sorrows in some of Luigi’s finest.’

  ‘No, thanks. I’ll just wander about a bit… perhaps pop in for a cup of tea with Uncle Fred.’

  ‘What, “Red” Fred? You bonkers or something, man? He’ll bore the pants off you. Besides, if Dad finds out, he’ll lose a wheel. You know how he feels about him.’ Alan seemed horrified. Our mother’s elder and only living brother had been disowned by the family, not only for his extreme politics, but also for the fact that he was living in sin with a Spanish woman at least twenty years his junior.

  ‘I’ll take the chance. Meet you at Snow Hill at six and, Alan…’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Don’t forget to pack tonight. I’ll get you up at half-five and down to the boat by half-six. I’m training at seven so I’m not going to wait for you.’

  ‘Okay, Mummy.’

  The others laughed.

  ‘And, Alan, try not to get arrested again if you can possibly help it.’

  He chased me across the road and halfway up Old Street, studded boots echoing off the walls, before he collided with a pram, which appeared from a doorway. He tumbled into the gutter, much to the amusement of the cadets, who had trotted after him.

  While he apologised to the startled woman, I turned into Union Street. Stopping outside one of the three-storied terraced houses, less dilapidated than its eighteenth-century neighbours, I knocked on the blood-red front door.

  7

  Malita peered at my uniform. She wore no make-up and her thick black hair, pulled back in a tight bun, pinched an already tired face into a caricature of resentment. It softened when she saw my face.

  ‘Yak, buenos tardes. Come in, you are most welcome.’ Her voice was much deeper than her slender figure suggested and heavy with a Spanish accent. However hard she tried, she couldn’t pronounce my name, so I was forever a hefty Siberian ox to her Spanish tongue. She hugged and kissed me on both cheeks then, with a broad wink, ushered me into the kitchen.

  Rachel looked up and laughed at my startled expression. ‘Don’t worry, I’m just about to leave.’