The Greatest Enemy

by Douglas Reeman

  She was still staring at him, her eyes shining in the small light as she watched from the shadows.

  He moved towards her. ‘What has happened, Suzane? Is there anything I can do?’

  Before he could reach her she turned away and walked back to the veranda rail, seizing it with both hands as she stared straight out towards the sea.

  In a low voice she said, ‘I couldn’t tell you. After all that’s happened, how could I ask for help now? It would have been unfair to you.’

  He stood just behind her left shoulder, his eyes on the sea where a pale sliver of moon had appeared above its reflection to make a small silver edge to the horizon. The ship was there as before, adding her own lights to the display. He wanted to touch her, to hold her, but knew it was not the moment. Even her voice seemed different, as if at last her resistance was crumbling and all the pent-up fears and despair were tearing her apart.

  She said, ‘He came in the night. It all happened so suddenly that I didn’t really get a chance to say anything until we were on the road. Even then he didn’t say much. He just kept driving, driving.’ Standish felt her shudder. ‘We got to the bungalow before dawn, but I don’t remember much about it. He started to talk then, as if he could not stop himself. He was like a stranger, yet at the same time was just as I remembered.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m not making any sense, am I?’

  ‘Don’t stop. Get it out now. Put it behind you.’ Very gently he slipped his arm around her shoulders. ‘It’s growing cold out here.’

  She continued, ‘He kept on asking about what happened. He wasn’t angry or disgusted, or anything like that. He seemed to be fascinated.’

  Standish squeezed her shoulder and tried to keep his voice level. ‘I’m sorry.’ It sounded so inadequate, so utterly opposite to the way he felt. He could see the bungalow as clearly as if he had been there with her. The dawn light uncovering the alien surroundings, and the man questioning and probing, stripping her mind bare with his persistence.

  ‘I tried to be calm about it, but nothing I said could move him from this thing. So I told him I was tired, and then he became almost attentive again. Even apologized for his not being here to meet me.’

  Standish knew there was more to come, but was totally unprepared as she continued quietly, ‘If I hadn’t been so keyed up and tired I might have realized.’ Her voice shook. ‘I was undressing in a bedroom when he came in. It was his own room of course. I should have seen.’ She was speaking faster now, as if she could not get the words out quickly enough.

  ‘He took hold of me, and all the time kept saying how sorry he was, over and over again. And that marriage wasn’t important now, and things like that. I remember looking over his shoulder while he was undressing me, and I think it was at that moment I realized something.’ She shivered. ‘Before, I suppose I had convinced myself that whatever happened I would accept it. I would stifle my feelings, do as you said and put all that other …’ She cleared her throat. ‘Put it behind me.’

  She turned slowly and looked up at him, her face hidden in shadow.

  ‘But it wasn’t like that at all. It was not that I could not let him, I just didn’t want him any more!’

  Standish gripped her against his chest as she buried her face and said, ‘He started to shout at me, but I put my dress back on, I made myself do it even though I wanted to run away and hide, or be sick. When he saw I meant to go he called me names, words …’ It was then that the tears came, and as Standish guided and half carried her into the room she sobbed, ‘So I came back here. The one place. The only place.’

  ‘I know.’ He lowered her into a chair and dropped on his knees beside her. ‘If only you’d told me earlier.’

  The tears were pouring down her face, but her eyes were wide open as she studied him as if seeing him for the first time. Then she said huskily, ‘I was going to stay here until the ship sailed. I couldn’t leave before then.’

  He held her hand to his mouth. ‘And I might never have known.’

  ‘I didn’t want you to think I was running to you because of what happened. Not you, Rex, of all people.’

  In the feeble light from the bedside lamp he saw she was wearing the same yellow dress, the one she had been saving for that special moment. It was crumpled now, and there was a smudge of oil on the hem.

  He said, ‘I’m the one who would come running. Ever since the first time we met, you’ve always been with me.’ He felt her hair brushing his face as she bent over him. ‘The ship leaves tomorrow morning. I have some money with me …’ He reached up to touch her lips as she started to protest. ‘Could you, would you wait for me? For three months?’ She said nothing and he felt something like anguish as he added quickly, ‘The ship will be returning to Singapore on or before that time. If you fly there, I know a place where you can stay. Where you could wait, make up your mind.’

  She threw her arms around his neck, her words muffled in sobs although she seemed to be laughing at the same time.

  ‘I don’t have to wait three months to decide. I know now. I think that like you I have always known.’

  He said, ‘I must send a message to the ship. I will not be needed until morning.’

  She slipped her arms from around his neck and watched as he got to his feet.

  Then she said, ‘Promise you won’t be long. There is so much I want to hear about you.’ She held his hand to her face and kissed it gently. ‘Then I will feel as if I am already part of you.’

  It took longer than Standish had anticipated to make the clerk understand what he wanted. Or perhaps he was to blame. His mind was still reeling from what had happened, and he had to force himself to concentrate as he wrote a message to be carried out to the ship.

  When he returned to the room he found her standing by the window again, but instead of a dress she was wearing a white bath robe. The dress lay in one corner of the room and he looked at it as she said, ‘I’m never going to wear it again.’ Then she saw the bottle and glasses he was holding and asked, ‘Is it wine?’

  He nodded. ‘The clerk downstairs has a sense of occasion, just as he understands the value of money.’

  He poured two glasses of wine, conscious the whole time of her watching him, the sudden tension between them. He said, ‘He gave me the same room as before. He handed her a glass and took her other hand in his. ‘To us.’ And thank God for that Australian.’

  ‘Australian?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. I’ll tell you about it one day.’ He squeezed her fingers. ‘In Singapore.’

  She asked, ‘What time must you go?’

  ‘Five in the morning.’ He tried to smile. ‘The Navy always does things at the crack of dawn. No one really knows why.’

  She trembled and he said quickly, ‘Come away from that window. It gets cold at nights here.’ He bolted the shutters and then turned as she said in the same low voice, ‘It’s not that. I think I’m afraid.’

  She did not resist as he took her in his arms. ‘You don’t have to go tonight. I want you to know that.’

  He ran his fingers through her hair. It was like warm silk. ‘I can wait, my darling. I just want you to stop worrying.’

  When he tried to see her face she pressed it against his chest so that he could hardly hear her.

  ‘I have to know, Rex. I don’t want to fail you, or hurt you ever again.’ She was shaking as if from cold, but when he lifted her chin her skin felt hot, even feverish.

  He said quietly, ‘You couldn’t fail me, even if you wanted to.’

  She shook her head, the hair tumbling around her neck as she said, ‘I might. I couldn’t wait three months with that on my mind. I love you too much.’ She became very still and looked at him steadily. ‘Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, I do understand.’

  She stepped back from his arms and said, ‘I love you. Remember that always.’

  Then she reached for the bedside lamp but stopped as Standish said quietly, ‘No. Not this time.’

  Obedi
ently she stood facing the bed, her hands hanging at her sides, then after another hesitation she undid the robe and let it fall to the floor.

  Standish watched her in silence. The light played across her spine and over the gentle curve of her hip, so that in the glow her skin shone like pale satin. He waited, knowing she was holding down that same anguish. Willing her to overcome it.

  Then she turned slowly and faced him. Her mouth was quivering and there were tears on her cheeks as she held out her arms and said, ‘I do love you.’

  She did not take her eyes from his face as he picked her up and laid her gently on top of the bed. Only when he started to undress did she speak again. ‘Love me. Whatever I do or say, love me!’

  For a while longer he tortured himself, standing beside the bed, looking down at her and the supple perfection of her body. Her eyes were closed, and her hands, which were pressed against her sides were bunched into tight fists. As if she was holding her breath, forcing her limbs to obey her.

  As his shadow moved across her he saw her tense, and beneath one uplifted breast noticed the quick, nervous pulsating of her heart. He could hear roaring in his head, and was aware of the mixed and demanding emotions which flooded through him like fire. To love and protect her. Or to take her here and now no matter what protest or reluctance still hung to her memory of that torment aboard the Cornwallis. That and so many other things flashed through his mind, so that when his hand moved down to touch her shoulder it was like being a spectator. An onlooker to something over which he had no control.

  Then he was beside her, feeling her flesh against his, her hair soft on his arm as he propped himself upon his elbow to look down at her face.

  Along the corridor a door banged and someone shouted with sudden anger, but he did not hear any of it. He watched his hand as it moved down still further to encircle her breast, felt her shudder as she turned her face away, the hair hiding her face from him.

  Her body was quite rigid and did not stir as he embraced and caressed it. Then as his fingers touched the soft curve of her stomach she gasped aloud, twisting her head from side to side, her forehead moist in the lamplight. He pressed his mouth on hers, murmuring unheard words, clasping her as if to defy and destroy the tension like a living thing.

  As his hand continued to move he felt her arm trapped between them trying to force itself free, to push him away even as she was endeavouring to turn her face from his. Then he held her, the heat of his hand and her body, the desperate embrace of their breath and lips joining together so that for several timeless moments neither of them moved.

  He drew his face away and saw that her eyes were open, and he could taste the tears on his mouth as she said very quietly, ‘Oh God, I love you …’ Beneath his hand he felt her stirring, knew that his own desire was matched by hers, but still could not break the link held between their eyes.

  Then as he raised himself above her, saw his shadow enfolding her naked body like a cloak, she said, ‘Now. Rex! Now!’

  It was like falling, down and down, with her arms pale and indistinct as they reached out on either side like parts of a white crucifix. He felt her arch her back, closed his eyes as she rose to take and enfold him, drawing him down still further until they were one. Her hands were on his shoulders and his neck, the nails biting into the flesh without pain, her breath hot against his cheek until their combined passion spent itself in a climax which neither wanted to stop.

  Later, as she lay with her head on his chest, she said, ‘Must we sleep? Must we waste what time we have left?’

  Standish reached out and poured two glasses of wine on the bedside table. As he held a glass to her lips he said, ‘You are beautiful.’

  She smiled, some of the wine spilling across his chest. ‘So are you.’

  He saw her eyes move across his body and then she said gravely, ‘Your scars. I have not seen them before.’ She touched the discoloured flesh with her fingers and then bent down to kiss it, her hair brushing across his skin like a warm breeze.

  The glass rolled unheeded on to the floor, the sound like a signal of their awakening desire.

  When the first sliver of grey light filtered around the bolted shutters Standish was still awake, holding her to him, listening to her relaxed breath, to the steady beat of her breast against his own body. He wanted to keep awake, to memorize every part of it, so that nothing should be lost to him.

  A car ground through the street below the window, and he heard someone whistling, probably on his way to work.

  Very gently he removed his arm from under her head and swung his legs to the floor. He should have been exhausted, but as he groped for his uniform he was aware of an entirely different sensation. He felt alive, even light-headed, as if a great weight had been lifted from him.

  When he looked again her eyes were open, watching him. He sat on the bed and touched her hair. ‘It is time.’

  She did not speak as he laid an envelope on the table and added, ‘This is where I will meet you. I shall make the arrangements.’

  He ran his hand around her neck and down across her breasts. This time there was no tension, and she watched for several seconds before saying huskily, ‘If you touch me again I’ll not allow you to go.’

  Feet padded in the corridor and Standish imagined the perplexed servant calling at an empty room to rouse him.

  He said, ‘I shall be thinking of you all the time I’m away.’

  She slid from the bed and pulled him against her. He knew from her voice she was trying not to cry. ‘Have you any regrets? You must tell me.’

  ‘Only that it took so long to find you.’ He kissed her and then held her away, fixing her in his mind with the other memories. Her eyes were shining, both from happiness and with tears which she could no longer control.

  ‘I will be watching from the window.’

  Standish tried to hide his own growing awareness of loss. ‘Not like that, my darling, or they’ll raid the hotel!’ He touched her bare shoulder and then picked up his cap.

  ‘Until Singapore then.’

  She nodded, her lip twitching as she said, ‘Take care. Take good care of yourself.’

  It had to be broken. He opened the door and then paused once more to look back.

  She was standing beside the disordered bed, her naked body gleaming in the growing light from the window, her eyes on his face as he said, ‘I love you.’

  Then he found he was in the corridor and hurrying towards the same, shabby stairway. Strangely, it did not look so shabby now, he thought. He waved to a startled servant carrying a tray of coffee.

  ‘Shan’t be needing it now. But thanks all the same.’

  The man was still gaping after him as he ran lightly down the steps and on to the road which led to the waterfront, and the sea.

  * * *

  The morning sunshine was hazy and the distant town already half hidden by a sea mist when the Terrapin’s anchor cable started to clank inboard through the hawsepipe.

  Standish stood on the upper bridge, his cap tilted across his eyes as he watched Wishart leaning over the guardrail to study the cable’s progress. Around the bridge the watchkeepers were at their stations, and on the fore gratings Dalziel was polishing his binoculars with a piece of tissue.

  ‘Check that our new launch is properly secured.’ Dalziel sounded irritable.

  Standish heard the message being relayed across a telephone and marvelled that he still felt so remote from it all. He had received a few curious glances in the wardroom, and Dalziel had remarked, ‘Just going to send a damned search party for you!’ But he seemed content to leave it at that.

  Overhead a steady plume of smoke billowed from the funnel, and Standish wondered if Quarrie was thinking about today. This might be the last voyage for the Terrapin. Except for the one to a breaker’s yard.

  Leading Seaman Neal climbed into the bridge and saluted. ‘The outboard launch is secured on her chocks, sir.’

  Dalziel swung round, his eyes hidden behind sun g
lasses. ‘What? Oh yes, good.’

  From forward came the cry, ‘Up and down, sir!’

  Neal had turned to go but Dalziel snapped, ‘Wait!’ Then he nodded towards Standish. ‘Ring down slow ahead both engines.’

  As the telegraphs clanged below the bridge Dalziel returned his attention to the expressionless leading seaman.

  ‘When I pass an order of such value, I expect the buffer to come himself and report results, one way or the other, right?’

  Neal eyed him flatly. ‘Aye, aye, sir.’

  ‘Both engines slow ahead, sir. Wheel’s amidships.’ Corbin’s voice echoed tinnily up the pipe. But nobody was paying much attention to it. Every face was on Dalziel as he rapped, ‘Well, tell Petty Officer Harris to get up here on the double!’

  From forward again, ‘Anchor’s aweigh, sir!’

  Neal said, ‘P.O. Harris is dead sir. The executive officer has appointed me acting chief bosun’s mate.’

  Dalziel stared at him. ‘Dead?’ He looked around at the others. ‘Yes, of course. Yes.’ He did not seen to know what to do with his hands. Then he thrust them into his pockets and added shortly, ‘Starboard ten.’ He crossed to the gyro. ‘Midships. Steady.’

  Standish watched him, suddenly aware of the creeping sensation of apprehension returning. He saw the others nearby, their faces like masks. Hostility, anger or disgust, it was hard to tell what most of them were thinking.

  Dalziel seemed to realize that Neal was still there and said, ‘Well, you can carry on. Make a good job of it and I’ll see …’ He did not finish it.

  Corbin again, detached and unaware of this tiny drama. ‘Steady sir. Course zero-four-five.’

  Dalziel lowered his head to the voicepipe. ‘Steady as you go, Cox’n, until we clear the anchorage limits.’

  Standish raised his glasses and tried to find the hotel. But it was just part of a shifting pattern beyond the mist. It was strange how difficult it was to find a small location on the shore. But she would be able to see the ship. Would be watching now as she settled on her course and moved slowly away from the land, her greasy smoke following her like a dirty banner on the sea’s face.