Sweet Victory: A Romantic Comedy (The Dartmouth Diaries Book 2)

by Watts, Beverley

  ‘Can’t you see, it’s not me, it’s the name,’ Doris burst out, staring wildly at each officer. ‘We have to get it back, we have to.’ His urgency finally seemed to penetrate. The two lieutenants glanced at each other before Hugo said, ‘They’ve probably found it by now anyway, so this is all a bit like shutting the gate after the horse has bolted so to speak.’

  ‘No, no. The thing is, unlike my wallet, I hid it,’ Doris continued, shaking his head. ‘By the time I got into that room, my instincts were telling me I’d made a mistake…’

  ‘From what I’ve seen, you’ve got the instincts of a bloody pot plant,’ interrupted Charles testily, before impatiently waving the sub lieutenant to continue. ‘There was a crack in the floorboards. I..I shoved the passport down there.’ Hugo frowned. ‘How do you know she, I mean he, didn’t see you do it?’

  ‘Err - the err, person, was lighting some candles at the time.’

  ‘Very bloody romantic. God you are such a complete knob jockey Doris.’ Charles sighed and looked over at Hugo. ‘What do you think Scotty? You believe this pile of codswallop?’

  ‘What exactly do you think will happen if they do find out your name?’ Hugo looked back at Doris without answering Charles. There was a short pause as Doris evidently tried to choose his words carefully. Then, seemingly deciding that it was all or nothing, he finally raised his chin defiantly. ‘Well, I’m so sorry to have to tell you this Sir, but you, Lieutenant Shackleford and Able seaman Noon will very likely be court marshalled for starters. You could end up doing time in the slammer.’ In the silence that followed, he lost his brief bravado, his voice wobbling as he said, ‘Please Sirs, you have to help me. I know I’ve been a fool. I swear I don’t know what I was thinking…’

  ‘Thinking? You’ve done precious bloody little of that Doris.’ Charles’ words were low and furious, causing the sub lieutenant wince and drop his eyes. ‘You’ve landed us all up bollocking shit creek. By rights, we should just turn this over to the Captain and be done with it, except, as you so eloquently put it, we could end up in bloody prison. Not you I note - even though you’re the biggest dipstick this side of The Suez – us.’ He paused, trying to take in the enormity of the mess they were in, then turned to Hugo, sitting in ashen silence on his bunk. ‘We can’t waste any time. If this bloody passport is as important as shit for brains here seems to think, we have to get it back before anyone has chance to find it. Soon as our watch is over, we’ll go ashore. We’ll aim to be off the ship by seventeen hundred.’ Then, turning to Doris, ‘Go and find AB Noon and tell him I want to see him pronto. When are you on watch? On second thoughts, don’t tell me, I’m not bloody interested. Whatever the watch bill is, if your stint clashes, get out of it. Use your connections.’ Charles almost spat the last word and Doris simply nodded, the expression on his face alternating between relief and terror. ‘Yes Sir,’ he mumbled at length when it appeared his superior had nothing else to say, and, after saluting clumsily, he excused himself and hastily left the room.

  At just after quarter past five, Charles, Hugo, Doris and Jimmy gathered at a local bar to discuss their strategy. Charles was the unelected leader of the mission and he wasted no time in niceties. ‘Has Hugo briefed you Jimmy?’ he asked, nodding quickly at Jimmy’s mumbled assent. ‘Okay. We’ve got five and half hours to do this. If we’re not back onboard by twenty two hundred, at the start of the next watch, we’re all up the swanny.

  ‘Now the fewer that know about this bloody cake and arse party, the better, so that means we can’t ask Kulap to take us. I don’t want to advertise our presence by grabbing a ride, so that leaves walking, but it should take us no longer than half an hour if we leg it quick. Once we get there, we’ll check the lay of the land, see how busy the place is. It’s still pretty early so I’m hoping it’s going to be fairly quiet. Closed would be even better.

  ‘We obviously can’t just walk through the front door after the way we said our goodbyes last time, so first things first, we’ll do a recce to locate the room the passport was left in so we can plan our next move. Is that clear to everyone?’ After making sure he received a nod from each solemn face individually, he pushed back his chair, saying, ‘Right then, let’s do this.’

  In the end it was nearly an hour before they finally arrived at the dingy entrance to the so called steamy shower massage parlour, the warren of lanes and alleys proving more difficult to navigate than they remembered. The flashing light above the door was turned off and Charles was hoping that meant that it was still too early for anyone to be indulging in anything hot and steamy – shower or otherwise. Standing huddled in a doorway, the four men stood and surveyed the deserted scene in silence.

  ‘Was the room on the front or the back?’ Hugo whispered at length. ‘Back, I think,’ responded Doris, ‘I remember briefly looking out of the window before I – I, er started get…’

  ‘We get the picture,’ Charles interrupted irritably, ‘Exactly what did you see when you had a shufti?’

  ‘Just a narrow alley with lots of crap around.’

  ‘Very helpful,’ was Charles’ tense response. ‘Jimmy, you’re the smallest out of us, and, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re the one who looks most like a native – you know black hair and the like.’ The last bit was added in response to Jimmy’s initial indignant expression. Charles didn’t want any mutiny at this late stage. An argument in this neighbourhood was not likely to add anything positive to the situation and he couldn’t afford to risk Doris if the bloody idiot was as important as he claimed. Luckily Jimmy knew his place, and, after a deep breath, he slipped out of the shelter and quickly disappeared round the side of the building.

  The other three waited for what was probably only about five minutes but felt like forever. As Jimmy finally reappeared, Charles breathed a sigh of relief before whispering heatedly, ‘Where the bloody hell have you been? I was about to send out Doris here to find you.’ He ignored Doris’ alarmed look and focused his attention on the nervously panting man in front of him. ‘I think I found the alley,’ Jimmy whispered urgently, ‘But we need to get going quick. There’s a window open on the ground floor. Think it might be a kitchen – bloody smelt like it anyway. I had a quick shufti and there was no one inside.’

  ‘Right then, lead on.’ Charles wasted no time and shoved the small man unceremoniously back in the direction he’d come from. ‘Watch your step,’ Jimmy called softly as he turned into a dark dingy, not to mention very smelly, passageway, ‘There’s some pretty nasty bits and pieces underfoot.’ The faint swearing coming from behind him indicated that at least one of them had missed the warning and trodden in something revolting.

  A minute or so later they emerged into a slightly wider alley. Although the smell didn’t improve any, the sliver of sunlight penetrating between the dilapidated buildings made the going a little less treacherous. Jimmy hurried to the left without waiting to see if they followed, finally stopping about twenty yards away just before an open window. ‘You sure this is the place?’ Hugo muttered as they caught up with him. ‘I reckon,’ Jimmy responded with a shrug. ‘Only one way to find out anyway.’

  ‘But what if you’re wrong?’ came Doris’ heated undertone. Jimmy waved his hand towards the remainder of the alley before answering, ‘There’s nothing after this, I had a look – they’re all warehouses and stuff. No one’s lived in ‘em for donkey’s years.’

  ‘Enough,’ Charles held up his hand to put a stop to the whispered bickering. ‘Here’s what we’re going to do.

  ‘I’ll go first, then Jimmy and Doris. Scotty, you stay out here and watch for anyone dodgy.’ He turned to Doris and laid his hand heavily on the sub lieutenant’s shoulder. ‘I need you to come with us ‘cos you’re the only one who knows exactly where you hid the bollocking passport. But put one step wrong Doris Day and I swear I’ll leave you here to face the music on your own.’ Doris nodded, white faced, and satisfied the younger man understood it was no bluff, Charles turned towards the open window
and, as quietly as possible, heaved himself through.

  A couple of minutes later the three of them were standing silently in the dim interior of the kitchen waiting tensely to see if they’d been rumbled. Charles couldn’t help but notice the bloody bits and pieces of unrecognizable meat littering the counter – if nothing else, the smell would have alerted him, not to mention Doris’s stifled retching beside him. ‘You’re such a bloody pansy,’ the lieutenant muttered, tiptoeing towards the door. Opening it quietly, he peered out into a corridor, turning back to his companions after a second to whisper, ‘We’re in the right place. Follow behind me and for God’s sake keep the noise down. Jimmy, you take up the rear.’

  The three of them crept softly along the passage towards a set of stairs. Unfortunately they weren’t the same ones they’d crashed down so publically on their last visit, so once they got to the top, they had to stop to get their bearings. Charles held up his hand for quiet, studying each of the doors in turn. Suddenly, the sound of voices came from the other end of the corridor and they shrank back against the wall as a door opened to reveal a man being shoved unceremoniously out of a room, still doing up his trousers. The tirade coming from inside the room was shrill, and in answer, they heard heavy footsteps coming from the opposite direction, finally disclosing a large mean looking man with a scar running down one side of his face. Without ceremony, the thug grabbed hold of the unfortunate man and dragged him yelling and shouting along the corridor and down the main stairs. The three winced and looked at each other as the bellowing abruptly stopped. ‘Shit,’ muttered Doris, looking for a second as if he were about to bolt. Sensing his panic, Charles grabbed hold of the sub lieutenant’s collar and held him still. ‘He’s done us a favour,’ the lieutenant whispered to his two companions, purposely shying away from thinking about the possible fate of the unlucky stranger. ‘I can tell where we are now. Follow me.’ He waited for another couple of seconds to make sure Doris had calmed down, then moved stealthily down the corridor towards a door on the right. ‘This is the one,’ he murmured without looking back. Slowly, he eased the handle down and pushed the door ajar, waiting a few seconds to see if anyone inside the room called out. When they heard nothing, he cautiously put his head round the opening and looked into the bedroom. Relief swamped him when he saw it was empty. Beckoning the other two, he slipped inside and closed the door softly behind them.

  Once inside the room, Doris didn’t wait to be told and hurried towards the crack in floorboard where he’d hidden his passport. After a couple of tense seconds, his face cracked into a triumphant smile as his fingers found what they were searching for. Waving his prize in the air, he climbed to his feet and stepped forward, directly onto the same crack. With an ominous splintering sound, the wood disintegrated and his foot disappeared into the jagged opening. For a second the three men stood stock still. Just as they thought the noise had gone unnoticed, they heard shouting, followed by the unmistakable sounds of feet running up the stairs. ‘Bollocks,’ muttered Charles, hurrying to lock the bedroom door. ‘What are we going to do?’ hissed Doris, glancing wildly between Charles and Jimmy as the footsteps got louder. ‘Well there’s no way out the way we came, that’s for sure. See if you can open that window Jimmy.’ The small man dashed to the window without argument, and straining, pulled at the grimy frame. ‘Here, give us a hand Doris,’ he yelled, stealth obviously no longer an issue. Shoving the passport into his pocket, Doris rushed to help and the two men slowly began to slide the window upwards, just as someone began rattling the door handle.

  Charles wasted no time waiting to see if they managed to get the window open, smashing it would do equally well if necessary. Instead he grabbed the sheets off the bed and quickly knotted the two together. Glancing towards the door, he registered that whoever was on the other side had now resorted to kicking it. They had a few seconds at most. Urgently he tied one end onto the bedstead, pulling at the knot experimentally to see if it would hold, then he tossed the other end to Jimmy who quickly launched the fabric out of the now open window. He briefly saw Hugo’s white face staring up at him anxiously, then Jimmy was climbing over the sill and lowering himself down the makeshift rope. Once on the ground, he called up to Doris, ‘Your turn mate.’ For a second Doris’s face disappeared then re-emerged as he was shoved unceremoniously out of the opening, for a moment almost hanging in mid air, until his survival instincts kicked in and he slid clumsily down the sheet. Before he reached the bottom, Charles was climbing over the sill, only narrowly avoiding an arm as it lunged out of the window to grab him. ‘Go,’ yelled the lieutenant as he hit the ground, pushing the other three towards the dingy passageway. He was just about to follow, when he heard an ominous ripping sound and, looking up, he saw the same scar faced man hanging with one hand on the sheet which was slowly tearing apart. Unable to move, Charles stared up as the man, who was now shouting desperately, began to slide towards the ground, almost in slow motion. Suddenly the sheet gave way and the man plummeted to the ground, landing with a dull thud. For a second Charles stood paralyzed, then, as he saw the man move, slowly trying to lever himself off the ground, he instinctively went towards him to see if he could help. As he bent down, the man groaned and flopped onto his back, revealing a large knife sticking out of his chest. Charles recalled the thug stalking towards him back in the bedroom, brandishing a large knife, and he realized the man had fallen onto his own blade.

  Hearing a noise behind him, he spun round, only to see his three companions, still standing immobile at the narrow entrance to the passageway. ‘What the bloody hell are you doing?’ he hissed, ‘get your arses out of here.’ Then he turned back to the groaning man, unwilling to leave without trying to help somehow. The blood stain had now spread over the whole of the man’s shirt and Charles grabbed at the fallen sheet in a futile effort to try and stop the bleeding. All of a sudden there was a shriek from the recently vacated window and the lieutenant looked up to see a woman leaning out of the window screaming gibberish at the top of her voice. Heart thumping, he looked back down to the man on the ground, only to see his eyes wide open unseeing towards the sky. Realizing there was nothing more he could do, Charles glanced up briefly once more, but as the woman’s screeching reached a crescendo, he did the only thing left to him to do. He scarpered.

  The four conspirators waited anxiously for the next few days to see if there were going to be any repercussions. Under Charles’ orders, they stayed on board and avoided spending any time together until the ship finally sailed two weeks later. Once at sea, they finally relaxed a little, vowing to keep what happened strictly between the four of them. Doris was transferred from Hermes when they reached Hong Kong.

  The other three never found out what his real name was because they never saw him again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It’s three o’clock in the morning and, lying in my little bunk, I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life. I know Dotty hasn’t – she’s currently under the covers, curled up whimpering between my legs. The threatened storm started just after midnight and since then I’ve been lying here, feeling the small yacht roll and pitch violently, every toss threatening to bring up the bread, cheese and pâté I consumed earlier. As I listen to the rigging clashing and banging against the mast, I actually begin to wonder if I should have made a will. To try and keep myself occupied I decide who I should leave my possessions to. Kit and Freddy of course – I don’t think my dad totally appreciates my taste. I wonder if there’s a pen and paper in any of the cupboards so I can write my wishes down – still, I suppose if the yacht goes down, my wishes will go down with it. I get as far as planning mine and Dotty’s funeral – of course we’ll want to go together. I picture the mourners sobbing as the open casket is brought into the church with me lying pale and ethereal (where did that come from? I’ve never been remotely ethereal, or pale for that matter – still if my end’s is a watery one…) Back to my imaginings - hard to believe this is taking my mind off things, but actuall
y, it is. Both Dotty and I look as though we’re sleeping, and I picture Kit and Freddy propping up Noah, almost crazy with grief. My father is in the background shouting, ‘Why, why?’ with his hands raised to the heavens. I’m so engrossed in my gruesome fantasy that I fail to notice the cupboard above my head come open after a particularly violent roll, until suddenly, shockingly a large hard object drops directly onto my head. I have time to utter a small ‘oomph,’ before something else falls out, this time breaking open en route and covering both me and the bed liberally with flour. I ask you – who the bloody hell has self raising flour on a sodding boat?

  Rearing up, I gasp, inadvertently inhaling half a pound of the white stuff which I then proceed to cough and choke up, all the while praying hysterically it is actually flour and not drugs. Eventually the coughing subsides and luckily I’m not seeing little green men, or mermaids, and certainly don’t feel the urge to launch myself off the rigging. Sighing in relief, I struggle out of bed (Dotty doesn’t move) and, pulling open the cabin door, stagger over to the small sink, intending to at least wash the stuff off my face. Unfortunately, despite pumping my foot frantically, there doesn’t seem to be any water, so I decide to open the hatch a little and hold out my cloth to let the rain do its stuff. Bracing myself against the stairs, I lean forward to unlock and push open the hatch with one hand, intending to hold out my cloth with the other. Unfortunately the wind whips both hatch doors out of my grip, throwing them open with crash, and a large deluge of water slaps me squarely in the face. Coughing and spluttering for the second time, I rear back, trying to shelter from the rain now driving directly into the cabin courtesy of the ten force gale going on outside. For a second I stand immobile, trying to wipe the now floury white goo out of my eyes. Then it suddenly occurs to me that if too much water gets into the cabin, there’s a chance we really could sink, and all of a sudden my funeral plans don’t seem quite so comforting. I know I have to do something, so taking a deep breath, I climb up the stairs, and, lean out into the storm. Trying to ignore the rain lashing across my face and head, I reach out to the handles of the hatch doors and slowly pull them towards me. After what seems like ages, they suddenly bang together and lock with a loud snap. Wearily I sit down on the stairs and happen to catch sight of myself in a small mirror on the bulkhead. My head and shoulders are wet through and patchily covered in off white gunk. If I had longer ears, I’d look like an extra out of A Hundred and One Dalmatians. Grabbing a small towel off a hook next to the hatch, which I suspect may have been strategically placed to take care of impromptu soakings such as this, I wipe ineffectually at the sticky mess which, by the time daylight comes, will no doubt have dried to a nice hard crust. Resisting the urge to cry (seems to be what I do best at the moment), I give up wiping my face and rest my head in my hands. After several minutes, I suddenly realize that the boat has stopped rocking and, looking up, I cock my head to listen. The wind has died down. Breathing another sigh of relief, I hang the now sticky towel back up and make my way back to my bunk. As I shut the cabin door behind me, I see Dotty’s nose sticking out of the top of the duvet, her head resting comfortably on my pillow. Smiling, I get in beside her and, snuggling her up to my belly, I finally fall into a mercifully dreamless sleep.