‘I can’t believe it. Can’t . . . can’t seem to take it in.’ Mark seemed to be having difficulty with his words and she guessed that he was drunk.
‘It’s wonderful!’ she cried, finding her voice at last. ‘It’s terrific, fantastic! Oh, I’m so proud of you. You deserve it. Well done.’
‘We’ve only just been told. Old Tom’s made it, too. We’ve just come in on the James Bond boat and we’ve been drinking all the way.’
Well, that explained the voice. And why not? He deserved it after all the months of strain.
‘There’s one thing though. We’ve been told where we’re going.’ He gave a sort of snort. ‘It’s typical! I’ve been given a boat in Dolphin.’
Kate felt a great stab of dismay. She had so hoped for a boat running out of Devonport so that they could stay in their new home. Resolutely she pushed her disappointment away. He had passed and that was all that mattered. She said so.
‘I knew that you’d see it like that.’ His voice was ebullient now. ‘I don’t care where it is. I’ve got a boat to drive and that’s all that matters to me. Look, I’ve got to go now. There’s a queue forming. I’ll phone you later.’
Trembling from head to foot, Kate replaced the receiver. She suddenly realised how tense she had been for the last few weeks and, sinking into the nearest chair, she burst into tears of relief.
Nine
The turning point came when Kate found that Mark didn’t want her around when he passed Perisher and was given a submarine to drive. He would be putting up his half stripe in the autumn and was obviously delighted at the way his career was going. It was confirmed that he would be given a boat running out of Dolphin and he put his foot down firmly, refusing to allow her and the twins to join him in Alverstoke.
She couldn’t believe it. It was the first real reward of his naval career and she wanted to share in it. Cass was right when she said that by this stage the wives had earned a bit of glory, too. Tom had been given a submarine running out of Faslane and although Cass was dreading the move to Scotland she was very pleased at the idea of being a Captain’s wife. She was still at Crapstone at the end of the summer, Tom being away, with Mark, on a course.
The girls were at the General’s. Lunch was over and the children were playing in the garden. The General had made some excellent coffee and they sat lazily on at the table, Cass nibbling at some little chocolates that he had produced.
‘When does Mark take over?’ she asked. ‘Tom doesn’t go until just after Christmas. Plenty of time to get a quarter sorted out. Smuggler’s Way, I suppose. I must remember to pack my kilt! Maybe you’ll get a quarter in Alverstoke this time, Kate. I can’t wait. Can you? Just think—the Wardroom hanging on our every word, all the young wives falling over themselves to get into our good books. Not to mention all those chaps playing up to us. Yum, yum! Frankly, I think that we enjoy it every bit as much as they do. It’s our ego trip as much as theirs. I suppose you’ll let the cottage?’
Kate was silent. How could she explain that her presence wasn’t required and that Mark had said quite clearly that he didn’t want the distraction of his wife and children?
‘After all,’ he had said cheerfully, ‘if I’m driving a boat I’m damned if she’s going to spend much time sitting beside the wall!’
‘But you’ll have to be in sometimes,’ Kate had protested. ‘Surely it would be fun to be together then? There’re bound to be parties and things on the boat and in Dolphin.’
‘Not if I can help it.’ Mark’s smile died away. ‘It’s not some bloody Sunday School picnic. When I’m on leave I can come home. It’ll be nicer for me to come here than to be stuck in Gosport in a quarter, and if there’s anything special on, you can come up for it.’
For once, Kate tried to make him change his mind but it was soon made clear that, even if she insisted and moved to Alverstoke, Mark was more than capable of turning it into a very hollow victory. She imagined the tiny public snubs and put-downs of which he was a master, all done with a smile under cover of being ‘just a joke,’ which she found so hurtful and damaging to her confidence. Anyway, who would want to go where they are so obviously not wanted?
She realised that Cass and the General were staring at her.
‘What’s up?’ Cass was now studying her closely. ‘Beastly for you to have to let it when you’ve just moved in but I expect you’ll find a nice naval couple who would leap at it.’
‘I expect so,’ Kate attempted a light laugh. ‘The thing is, we haven’t quite decided whether I shall go or not.’
Cass put down her coffee cup. ‘You mean Mark doesn’t want you,’ she said brutally, ignoring her father’s exclamation.
‘It’s not quite like that,’ protested Kate. ‘You know Mark. He seems totally unable to run his marriage and his job together. He’s always preferred to keep them in separate compartments. Driving his own boat is terribly important to him. He wants to be able to concentrate on it, give it his all, you know? Not have to worry about . . . well, anything else.’
‘For Christ’s sake, Kate! When did Mark ever think about anything but Mark? He’s never worried about you or the twins in his life. You give him everything on a plate! What about you?’
‘Darling.’ The General tried to remonstrate with his daughter, distressed by the sight of Kate’s white face. ‘Please. It’s not your business . . . ’
‘It is my business!’ Kate had never seen Cass so angry. ‘Kate’s my friend. Mark is a selfish, idle bastard who plays on her love for him and uses her disgracefully! All the other chaps take their wives with them. What’s so special about him? He never lets her go on the visits abroad, deliberately doesn’t tell her about Ladies’ Nights and parties and then tells people that she’s anti-social and won’t go. He’s a liar and a cheat. He even refuses to let her have any more children . . . ’
To everyone’s surprise, she burst into tears. After a moment Kate, who had been sitting as if turned to marble, pushed back her chair and went to her.
‘Come on,’ she said, putting her arms around her. ‘Don’t get upset. You know the old naval motto—If you can’t take a joke, you shouldn’t have joined. Anyway, why should I want to go and live in a grotty quarter all on my own when I can be in my dear little cottage with your father just along the road? Much nicer.’ She smiled at him over Cass’s blonde head and was horrified to see that he had tears in his eyes too.
Cass gained control of herself and sat up. ‘Sorry,’ she said. She scrubbed at her face with the napkin by her plate. ‘I’m sorry, Kate.’
‘Forget it.’ Kate went back to her seat. ‘I shall miss you terribly so you must come down for visits, mustn’t she?’ She looked at the General, willing him to smile, to be happy. ‘We’ll have lots of jollies, won’t we?’
‘Absolutely. At least we shall all be here for Christmas.’ He smiled back at her. ‘And I can tell you now that Mrs Hampton is already making plans for it.’
_______
‘ . . . THINGS GO ON MUCH as usual here,’ Kate wrote, ‘and we’re having some wonderful late-autumn weather. The twins go for the entrance exam to Mount House next week. I’m so glad that you are settling in and that you’ve got a good Wardroom.
‘The car has failed its MOT and Bob says that he can’t bodge the rust again. I suppose that we can’t complain. After all, she’s done awfully well given her age. I’ve found a garage that will do a part exchange on a newer one, so I think we’ll just have to do that . . . ’
She put down her pen and looked around the kitchen for inspiration. None came. Standing up, she reversed the Ella Fitzgerald tape in the cassette player and went to fill the kettle. How many letters, she wondered, had she written to Mark over the last eight years? Not a single shore job in all that time although it wasn’t his fault that the refit in Portsmouth had been such a disaster. She brushed a few geranium leaves into a corner of the window sill and removed a few dead leaves from the plants. Soup bubbled gently in a saucepan on the Rayburn beside wh
ich, in her basket, Kate’s new puppy, Megs, was sleeping. The twins would be home from school before the contentment of the day turned to boredom, the quiet stillness to loneliness, but how would it be when they went off to boarding school?
George Lampeter had popped in once or twice since Mark had gone. The last time he had had rather more than usual to drink and had suggested that he take her to bed. She had resisted but suspected that he might make another attempt and her thoughts were confused. She was fond of him and attracted to him physically—but could she sleep with him? She felt that he might be a tender lover and already felt at least as close to him mentally as she did to Mark. Kate had never found sex a good enough sport on its own to want it for its own sake but maybe with George it would be different: maybe she would discover just what it was she seemed to be missing with Mark.
She leaned against the Rayburn and closed her eyes. She was in bed with George and he was kissing her, stroking her, touching her breasts. Kate dragged her eyes open and groaned. This was terrible—perhaps making love could be as good as other people, books and films all implied. If it were, could she bear to miss out? Perhaps this time sex, just for the sake of it, would be good enough to outweigh her conscience. But was she capable of having a brief affair with George and then resuming her married life as though nothing had happened? If love-making was that good, would she be able to continue with a man who treated her like a machine? Again she groaned. If only she could be carried away by her emotions and just do it without all this soul searching! Like Cass.
‘Why shouldn’t I?’ she asked the kettle. ‘I’ve spent the last eight years waiting for boats to come in, waiting for Mark to come home, moving house, going nowhere, doing nothing. Most wives go abroad when the boats are going to nice places—they have a week in Gibraltar, a few days in Malta, time in the States. Mark obviously doesn’t want me to go. He never asks me and when I suggest it he gets cross. He never tells me about Ladies’ Nights or about parties I later find we were invited to. Two nights a year I go out—the Christmas Ball and the Summer Ball: and that’s only if the boat’s in!’
The kettle remained silent.
She could feel self-pity, that dreaded emotion, welling up inside her as she looked at her life slipping by while she waited—but for what? Leaves that were always an anti-climax? The shore job? That was supposed to be the answer: time with Mark, time to communicate, time to understand each other, time to become close so that even sex would be good.
The kettle began to sing.
She realised that she couldn’t just sleep with George: she must give her marriage every chance and if Mark were to find out that she had been unfaithful—quite likely knowing her luck and thanks to the naval grapevine—what chance would it have then? Mark would never be able to trust her again. He might divorce her and then what would happen to the twins? How could she hurt them? And all for George!
The kettle boiled.
Kate made some coffee and, taking it back to the table, sat down, pulling her writing paper towards her. She read through what she had written, sipped some coffee and picked up her pen.
‘I was very sorry to hear that you won’t be home for Christmas but I quite understand that, since you may not get the chance to drive another boat, you want to make the most of this one. At least you know the run to Nova Scotia and you always enjoy Halifax, don’t you? How kind of Liz and James to offer to put you up. When does their exchange finish?’
THE BREEDER HAD ADVISED Kate to buy a bitch puppy. Kate planned to mate her in due course and then keep the pick of the litter so that she would have two really good breeding bitches. She wondered whether to take the new puppy to shows as soon as she was old enough so as to start building up a reputation.
‘Well, I do hope you’re not going to turn into one of those tweedy women, with sensible shoes and hairy chins,’ said Cass, when Kate told her these plans. ‘You seem to be getting rather serious about all this.’
‘That’s because I am serious, Cass. Look, I’ve got to do something with my life. I probably see Mark, on average and not consecutively, for about twelve weeks of the year. What am I supposed to do for the other forty? Go to coffee mornings? Raise money for charity? Do meals-on-wheels?’
‘Sorry, Kate.’ Cass was contrite. Since her outburst she had been very wary on this subject. ‘It’s just that I didn’t realise you were such a doggy person. That’s all.’
‘We were always knee deep in them at home. We used to walk hound puppies and my mother used to train retrievers to the gun. I might do that later on.’
‘It’s a pity you haven’t had any more children. What did actually happen about that? I thought that you were just going to stop taking the pill.’
‘I did in the end. I took your advice. I thought it would be so nice to have a second baby, well, third, of course, but knowing all the pitfalls. In a way, the twins were a nightmare when they were small. All through that winter in that terrible flat with no heating, no washing machine. I had to wash everything by hand and drape it round the kitchen to dry. All those nappies! And that awful stove! Humping coal and ashes to and fro. I got so tired. If one cried, the other would start up. I remember walking up and down in the night, freezing to death, trying to carry both of them. Often I’d cry with them. I must be crazy even to think of wanting more. I used to be so anxious, so terrified that they were ill. They’d cry for hours and then, suddenly, they’d go to sleep and I’d think “My God! They’ve died!” and I’d go and poke them and they’d wake up and start crying again.’
‘Poor Kate.’ Cass couldn’t help laughing. ‘I was lucky. I had Tom around, on and off, and Charlotte was very good. I can’t somehow see Mark being good with babies.’
‘He hated it! He simply couldn’t cope with them crying. He said he could sympathise with people who bash babies’ heads on walls to make them shut up. So even when he was at home, I didn’t dare trust them to him and he couldn’t bear to have his nose put out of joint for a second. The relief when he went back to sea was enormous. But when they got to about six months, it all changed and I loved it. I feel that I’d be much calmer with a second—well, third. You know what I mean?’
‘Oh, definitely. I was much more relaxed with Oliver. But how long have you been off the pill?’
‘Oh, years. Since that Christmas when we came down and stayed with your father and he had the Christmas tree. I was so happy; all the children and Oliver a baby. And I went on down to Cornwall and James and Sarah had just had their second, little Lizzie. They were there as well. And I had this terrible ache, you know? I longed for another one so much. But nothing happens. It’s very odd. It was practically first time off with the twins.’
‘Perhaps you’re too anxious. After all, they’re away so much, aren’t they? Then they dash in for a week, or it may be two, and it’s the wrong time of the month or you’re so uptight that it doesn’t work.’
‘Perhaps you’re right.’ Kate sighed. ‘The thing is, the twins are nearly seven now and I’m beginning to wonder if it’s a bit late.’
‘Well, you could try a bit longer. After all, you’ll be pretty lonely when the twins go away next year. I’m lucky to have a girl as the eldest. When I send Oliver I shall still have Charlotte. I plan to have another girl soon so that when Saul goes off I still shan’t be alone.’
‘I should have thought you might find it quite convenient to be without your children hanging round you,’ remarked Kate mischievously.
Cass smiled blandly at her. ‘What can you mean? I adore my children. Plenty of time for amusement when they’re in bed or at school. Which reminds me. It’s very quiet upstairs, isn’t it? Do you think that we should go and see what our offspring are up to?’
BY THIS TIME, KATE and the twins were perfectly capable of enjoying a Christmas without Mark. Nevertheless, Kate was delighted to receive an invitation to the Ball at the Britannia Royal Naval College at Dartmouth.
George Lampeter had been invited and was looking for a partner.
<
br /> ‘Could you save my life?’ he asked her on the telephone. ‘I know Mark’s away but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you took pity on me, would he? I can’t think of anyone I’d rather escort.’
Kate bit back the retort ‘What about Felicity?’ and accepted with pleasure. ‘Who else is coming?’ she asked.
‘Well, Felicity and Mark,’ he replied, dead on cue, and added some others whom Kate knew well. ‘Should be fun. Bless you, Kate. Listen, I’m staying with friends in Dartmouth and the snag is getting you over here. Would you mind coming with Felicity and Mark or is that too much to ask?’
‘My dear George,’ said Kate, amused, she was sure that Felicity—who would not want George appearing with a glamorous dolly bird—was behind the invitation, ‘I’d hardly expect you to act like the lovelorn swain. That’ll be fine. I haven’t been to the college since the Passing Out Parade and Summer Ball with Mark all those years ago. It’ll be a marvellous treat.’
So Kate went, bundled into the back of Mark II’s car, listening with half an ear to his and Felicity’s bickering, and thinking about the strangeness of life.
The college, en fête, was wonderful as always: a splendid buffet supper, the marquee with the jazz band, the disco with its whirling lights and the ballroom where the more sedate officers and wives circled to the strains of a decorous waltz.
Nothing really changes, thought Kate, sitting at a large table on a balcony that was probably called the Poop Deck. Bottles of champagne popped while jovial, handsome men—smart in their Mess Dress—and laughing, pretty, scented women—elegant in their ball dresses—moved up and down the stairs, calling to each other, embracing friends. She thought of Mark, nine years before, tall and darkly handsome, striding these very corridors and halls, and herself, excited and overawed by it all and quite sure that life had nothing more to offer. She remembered standing in the soft air of that July evening with the lights twinkling on the river below and listening to the Royal Marine Band playing Beat the Retreat on the Quarterdeck with the tears prickling at the back of her eyes.
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