He laid her on the bed with great care, feeling her eyes on him as he explored her body, her throat, her breasts and further still until his fingers were caressing her hair, so that she cried out as if to match his own pain of desire.
‘If you hurt me . . .’
‘I won’t.’ He knelt over her, feeling the warm harbour breeze across his nakedness.
‘Just love me. Love me.’
She grasped him with both arms, and he knew she was tensed, ready for the pain, for the ultimate.
But there was none. So very slowly. Down and down, and the exquisite embrace as he entered her until they were linked together, their bodies as one.
She whispered, ‘Now. Make it now.’
Afterwards, the moonlight flooded the room and touched the bed where they lay entangled.
Tossed aside on the floor their two wet uniforms seemed to mime their embrace. The moment of destiny.
15
No Turning Back
Ian Cusack, Serpent’s Chief, watched his commanding officer at his desk while he read through the engine room report.
He said, ‘I’m still not happy about the shaft, sir. These dockyard maties are not to my taste.’ He looked unusually stubborn and angry.
Brooke reread part of the Chief’s highly technical findings. Cusack was not a man to complain without reason.
He said, ‘If this was Chatham Dockyard you’d probably say that.’
The cabin was strangely bright without Islip alongside to block out the scuttles. She was at sea on another patrol, her departure and return no doubt seen and noted by Japanese agents, if they were still interested.
He glanced at Lian’s photograph. At first he had put it in a drawer whenever he was meeting one of his officers here. Now he did not. Defiance? Or was it because he had hardly seen her since he had rushed ashore in his old sea-going gear? Even then they had driven around in the big car, saying little, but holding hands: a bond, but to Brooke it had been a lifeline. Then to sea to test the shafts and the steering. It was not like Serpent to play up. He could not imagine how many thousands of miles she must have steamed since his father had first taken command.
Commodore Stallybrass had complained about their time in port, although what strategic use could have been made of Serpent’s time was anyone’s guess.
Brooke had spoken only briefly to his brother on the shore telephone line. Their exchange had been curt, and Brooke knew that something else was bothering him.
He said, ‘As soon as we get clearance I intend to go alongside the oiler. I’ve already had my request granted. Full bunkers, Chief – three hundred tons, more if you can squeeze it in.’
‘May I ask why, sir?’
He smiled. ‘Frankly, Chief, I don’t know. A feeling, that’s all. Better to be prepared.’
He thought of Calvert and how he had changed since their return to Hong Kong. More alive and relaxed than he could remember. As navigator he had the least to do in harbour, apart from sharing the O.O.D. duties with the others. The rest of the time he was usually to be found at Charles Yeung’s little shipyard working on the seaplane. He now had another volunteer in the person of Lieutenant Paul Kipling, who had proved to be a wizard with the skill he had gained in his time at the garridge.
Jeremy should be on his way home now. Brooke had asked him about his new son to ease the tension between them, but even that had been wrong. Jeremy had snapped on the telephone, ‘He’s been christened Marcus, for God’s sake, after Sarah’s father! What sort of stupid name is that?’
Whatever he had come to Hong Kong to discuss with the various chiefs-of-staff it appeared to have had little effect. It would be November in a matter of days, and all local interest seemed to be centred on social events as they moved up to Christmas. A fancy dress ball for the war effort at home, Saturday racing at Happy Valley: people would be jockeying for position and trying to arrange their diaries to accommodate all the invitations to a whole armada of celebrations and extravagances.
There was a knock at the door and Kerr pulled the curtain to one side.
‘Sorry to interrupt you, sir.’
Cusack picked up his stained cap. ‘I was just going.’ He looked at Brooke. ‘I just want her at her best at all times, sir, as she’s always been.’
The curtain fell back and Kerr raised his eyebrows. ‘What’s eating him?’
‘He thinks they’re taking too long with his repairs. I must say I agree. What do you want, by the way?’
Kerr smiled. ‘There’s a Third Officer Yorke come aboard, sir.’
Brooke glanced at the clock. ‘Damn, I let Pilot go ashore. She’ll be here to say goodbye. I understand from the signals that the Brigadier is off today.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘It’ll give the other golfers a break, I suppose.’ He wondered how far they had gone together. Could it last across the miles of ocean, the months or years ahead? He looked at the framed photograph. I know I could.
His expression was not lost on the first lieutenant.
‘I’ll show her aft, sir.’
Brooke walked to an open scuttle and thought of the girl up on the Peak. He must see her. They might get sailing orders soon. He allowed the thought to explore his mind like a scalpel.
It would be impossible to leave her without knowing.
The small Wren officer stepped over the coaming and smiled at him.
‘I thought I’d come over myself, sir.’ She held out some envelopes. ‘From Commodore Tamar.’
Brooke pulled out a chair for her. Like Calvert, she had changed in some inexplicable way. She was not the shy-looking girl he had seen at the reception, like somebody in a school play.
She met his glance without flinching: she even smiled.
‘I collected your brother when he arrived, sir.’
Brooke grinned. ‘Did he stare at you, too?’
‘Differently, sir.’
‘That was very diplomatic!’ He walked to the scuttle again as one of the motor torpedo vessels growled abeam, making a big wash for such a small vessel.
He said, ‘I’m afraid Lieutenant Calvert is ashore.’ He faced her, surprised that she was apparently unmoved. It was something else. Pride, perhaps.
‘I know.’ She looked past the commodore’s letters to the girl in the photograph. ‘I’m staying. I got Brigadier Sexton to fix it. I’m attached to Tamar for the present.’
He looked at her gravely. As the Brigadier’s secretary she would know about the risks of being here if anything went wrong, and Jeremy would have added his own gloom-and-doom bit if she had asked him.
A very pretty girl, probably only twenty, even less. So what was the point of spoiling it for her, for them? Young men her age fought and died every hour of the day. In the skies, under water, everywhere they were so ordered, just as they had in Flanders in his father’s war.
She must have stunned them in the base. It was unlikely they had ever seen a girl in uniform out here.
He said, ‘You’ve done a lot for Toby Calvert. I know what he went through.’
‘So do I, sir. Now.’ She put her head on one side so that her brown curls bounced over her collar. ‘But you’re asking me if I’m serious about him?’
‘Am I?’ He shrugged. ‘I suppose I am.’
She looked at him steadily. ‘I love him. I know he loves me. I’d never let him down.’
‘He’s very lucky. I hope it goes well for both of you. May I call you Sue?’
‘Thank you, sir. I’d like that.’
They both stared at the telephone as it rattled in its case.
Brooke said, ‘Sorry about this.’ He picked up the handset.’ ‘Captain speaking.’
There were scrapes and clicks and for a moment he thought he had been cut off.
‘Can you come to the house on the Peak?’
Brooke said, ‘I thought you’d left the island, Jeremy.’ He covered the mouthpiece and looked at the girl. ‘Seems today is full of surprises!’
Jeremy sounded unusually on edge. Mor
e to the point, he was unable to hide it.
‘Have you got somebody there?’ When he remained silent, Jeremy said, ‘Charles Yeung. He’s not well. I think you should be here. You know what I mean.’
Brooke said, ‘I’ll take a taxi . . .’ But the line had gone dead.
The Wren was on her feet. ‘I can get a car, sir. I’ll drive, if you can stand it.’
But he was looking at the photograph. She must have asked that he be told.
He said, ‘You’ll have to, Sue. I’ve never learned.’
They met Kerr on the quarterdeck talking with the Buffer and Podger Barlow, the Gunner (T). They were discussing the day’s work for the duty watch.
‘I’m going up to Charles Yeung’s house, Dick. Take over for me.’
Kerr stared at the girl. ‘I thought you were going home!’
She smiled, but was very aware of Brooke’s sudden anxiety.
‘So everyone says, Number One.’
Brooke cut in abruptly. ‘Now where’s that car?’
The side-party had hurried into position by the brow, and Kerr waited to see them over the side.
The girl hesitated until Eggy Bacon, the chief quartermaster, whispered, ‘You goes first, Miss. The Cap’n always goes last!’
The calls shrilled and Brooke saluted as he followed the Wren down to the wall.
Kerr breathed out slowly. ‘A nice little thing and no mistake!’
The Gunner (T) kept a straight face. ‘So everyone says, Number One!’
Petty Officer Alec Fox, the Buffer, tugged his cap over his eyes and groaned. “Ere comes the Base Engineer Officer, sir.’
‘Tell the Chief, will you? Maybe they can get things sorted out this time.’
But his thoughts were still on the small Wren officer and Toby Calvert. This evening he would write another letter to the girl in England.
It was a fast but hair-raising drive to the Peak and the house where he had first met Lian.
Brooke had forcibly restrained himself from seizing the girl’s wrist when there had been nothing ahead of the bonnet but clear sky as she had swung around one of the many zig-zagging bends above the harbour.
Once she had squeaked aloud when they had appeared to be on the edge of a sheer drop to some houses below.
‘Never driven up here before!’ She had given a breathless laugh. ‘I’ll bet you’d never have guessed, sir!’
They entered the familiar driveway and Brooke saw several other cars there, including the pale green Phantom.
Robert Tan, the valet, strode down the steps to greet him.
‘You very quick, Captain!’ He glanced covertly at the Wren, mystified perhaps as to why the captain of one of the King’s ships should be driven by a mere woman.
‘How is he?’
Robert Tan shrugged. ‘Better, I think. Doctor Camille is here.’
Brooke seemed to feel the sting of his old leg injuries return at the mention of Yeung’s other daughter. She was not the sort to take any nonsense, even from her formidable father.
Sue Yorke said quietly, ‘Shall I come, sir?’
Robert Tan eyed her impassively. ‘I fetch Missy a drink.’ He added, ‘Cool, with fruit in it.’
She murmured, ‘After that drive I could do with something stronger!’
Brooke opened a door and saw Lian there, as if she had been waiting for him. For this moment.
The Wren said, ‘I’ll be all right alone, sir.’ She smiled at Lian, then she was gone.
Lian came towards him and slowly put her arms around his neck. She studied him feature by feature, and said, ‘You are looking better. More rested.’ She seemed satisfied. ‘I asked that you be told about my father.’
Her perfume was like a drug, and he wanted to hold her, touch her, in case she slipped away.
She said, ‘He has worked too hard and too much. He thinks he is a young man again. My sister and her husband Harry are here.’ Her eyes lit up momentarily as if she were remembering how she had mimicked Camille’s American accent, but the humour would not come.
She paused, and then said, ‘Your brother is here also.’
‘Yes. He telephoned me.’ He persisted, ‘But your father – he is in no danger, Lian?’
‘Not this time, I think. He gives so much. You will see.’
There were voices in the adjoining room, the sounds of tea being prepared.
She whispered, ‘Your ship is not going yet, Es-mond?’
‘No.’ He squeezed her hand and imagined what it would be like to be with her. To love her.
‘When you look at me like that, Es-mond, I see myself very differently. A person of wind and dust, and not the sheltered daughter of a great man.’
Brooke smiled at her concern. He knew enough to understand the term she had used. A prostitute. ‘I think not!’
She was not convinced. ‘When you are close to me, even when I think of you, when we are not together, I cannot but want you to hold me, and not leave me untouched, not to have felt the waves of the wind like other girls.’
A small servant opened the door and ushered them through. Charles Yeung was sitting in an armchair and was rolling down the sleeve of his shirt. He looked strained, but what Brooke noticed most was his hair, usually so perfectly groomed. It was tousled, probably from when he had been lying down to have his heart tested.
‘You are welcome, Esmond!’ He frowned. ‘All this fuss for nothing!’ He reached for a cigarette box on the nearest table.
‘Too many of those!’ That was Camille. She was folding up her bag of instruments with quick angry movements. ‘You must take more care. You can afford it!’
A very large man in a creased, lightweight suit and brightly flowered tie introduced himself. ‘Hello, Commander Brooke. I’m Harry, Camille’s old man!’
Big and outwardly amiable, but he was no doubt wondering how he was supposed to react.
Jeremy came in from the terrace, and summoned a smile. ‘Like the bad penny, Esmond. But I’ll be leaving quite soon now.’ He took out his own cigarette case and added, ‘I saw you arrive with that little Miss Know-it-all.’
Lian watched them both from beside her father’s chair. Then very softly, she asked, ‘Did she turn you down, Jeremy?’
Doctor Harry Quayle of Nashville, Tennessee held up his big beefy hands in protest.
‘It’s like this.’ He looked at Brooke wearily. ‘We had this notice about quitting Hong Kong if the need arises. I don’t want to become involved. As an American citizen I’d put my wife first, naturally. But the fact remains . . .’
Camille’s eyes flashed. ‘I’m not leaving, I tell you that now! I am needed here, and if the worst happened, the need would be all the greater!’
It was strange to hear her slightly American accent, Brooke thought, after the soft voices of the others.
Jeremy said sharply, ‘It was my duty to tell them. There would be no difficulty in getting them a passage to Australia, as a first step anyway.’
He turned on Lian, still smarting from her cutting remark about the Wren officer.
‘And you wouldn’t leave either, I suppose?’
She touched her father’s shoulder. ‘You are right. This time.’
Charles Yeung stroked his daughter’s hand and asked, ‘What do you think, Esmond? You are a friend now. I have already said what I believe. If a passage to a safer place is offered I think my daughters should take it. They of course refused, for various reasons.’
Brooke looked at her for several seconds. It was like something physical, unbreakable. He saw her put her other hand to her breast and then nod very slowly.
‘I would do all I could if such a thing did happen. You must know that.’
Charles Yeung clicked his lighter, like a gunshot in this quiet room above the sea.
‘I do know. I have watched you. But wars do not respect the people who are made to fight them. You may have to leave here. I cannot see that you will be allowed to choose.’
Brooke turned to his bro
ther. Relaxed now, a comfortable spectator again.
‘What have you been saying to these people?’
Jeremy gave an elegant shrug. ‘I thought they should be told. We owe it to them. In any case, the possibility might not arise.’
You bastard, he thought. So he did know more than he was saying.
‘And your yardarm is clear, is that it?’
Jeremy glanced at his watch. ‘Something like that.’
Lian said softly, ‘I will stay in Hong Kong as long as I am needed here.’ She faced her father. ‘With you.’ Then she turned towards Brooke and the others. ‘And with the man I love.’
Charles Yeung leaned back in his chair. Was he displeased? He certainly showed no surprise.
‘Have Jeremy driven to the ferry.’ He held out his hand. ‘Now you owe us nothing, Commander.’
Jeremy paused, and said lightly to Brooke, ‘See you in England some time, old son.’ But there was no emotion there. Perhaps there never had been.
‘I want you to come with me to the yard.’ Yeung’s authority seemed to exclude the two doctors. ‘But first, we will eat.’ He smiled gently as Camille began to protest. ‘Shh! I am a man again. I will not be told!’ Then he got to his feet and looked around as if he had not expected to recover his strength.
Brooke asked quietly, ‘Why did my brother speak of owing something?’
Yeung shrugged. ‘My people can always discover things which no intelligence officer would even hear about. In exchange, your brother could be helpful to me.’ He shook his head and smiled. ‘Not, I assure you, a court-martial offence!’ It seemed to amuse him.
Lian said, ‘You should have been a pirate!’
He touched her hair, his eyes seeking something. ‘Some of my ancestors were, I believe. Too hard a life for me!’
The doctors had gone out on to the terrace, and Yeung asked abruptly, ‘Do you love my daughter, Esmond? Above all else? Is that what she is telling me?’
Brooke found it was easy to answer. ‘I want her. I have never known real love until I saw her. You may regard my prospects as poor. But for the war I would have been outside the navy because of my leg.’
Charles Yeung raised his hand. ‘Suppose you took her back to England . . .’
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