A Dawn Like Thunder (32 page)

Ross said, ‘I would trust him with my life again if need be. He is a man who believes in victory, not just against the Japanese, but against anyone who tries to dominate his country, his people.'

Blandford asked gently, ‘Even against us, Commander Ross? Or the Dutch in Java and Sumatra and their dependencies? Will they not be allowed to recover what was rightly theirs?'

Was she laughing at him? Perhaps his simple explanation seemed shallow here, where there was no danger.

Pryce interrupted rudely, ‘Not our concern. Our job is to hit them where it hurts, not to worry too much about the price!'

Just for an instant, it seemed as if he and Pryce were quite alone. Ross heard the unspoken words in his mind, like all those other times.
Did we ever, sir?

And somewhere back there in the shadows, the young Peter Napier, so eager to please.
A piece of cake.

It was dark when Ross finally escaped from the operations building, and it seemed even darker because of his immense fatigue after the endless questions, the explanations required for the benefit of the Wren who had been taking shorthand.

Two sailors strolled past, only their white caps giving a hint of identity. Ross could smell the heady aroma of rum, and guessed they had been celebrating with an illegal bottle of hoarded tots. It seemed so long since he had been here, months rather than weeks. It was like being a stranger. Charles Villiers had thought the same.

And then he saw her. She was standing quite still beside one of the khaki vehicles parked in the compound. It could have been one of the other Wrens, but he knew instantly that it was Victoria.

She came to meet him, shaking her head as if with disbelief before she threw her arms around him.

He held her tightly and whispered, ‘I'm a mess. I haven't been able to change for days!'

She did not appear to hear. ‘I knew you were coming. I was sent to fetch some documents from Colombo.' She was trying to smile, to hide the strain and the past anxiety. ‘I – I think Captain Pryce did it on purpose. To have you all to himself!'

Then she seemed to realize what he had said, and rubbed her hands across his shoulders. ‘I don't care. You're back, you're safe.' She leaned against his arms. ‘You
are
safe?'

He pulled her closer, remembering all the times when he had thought of her like this. Now that it was happening it was different, unbelievable. ‘Yes. Good as new.' He touched her hair and, very gently, her face, aware of her
warmth, her eyes which, even though in shadow, were exactly as he had seen them in his thoughts.

‘Was it bad?'

He glanced up at the clouds behind her, and the solitary star which was drifting among them. ‘I believe it was worth while.' He thought of all their intent faces, Pryce's rare satisfaction at Tsao's information and lists. ‘But I kept thinking of you, what it must have been like when you left there as a child.'

She lowered her face against his chest, and ignored his protests. ‘I have waited for this. You are a man. You smell of ships, that other world you described to me.'

She allowed him to lead her away from the compound, to the path that led to the sea. She said quietly, so quietly that her words were almost lost in the regular swish of fronds overhead, ‘I prayed for you. I was so afraid you would be hurt, that you might not come back.' A small hesitation,
‘To me.'

Somewhere else doors banged and there was a burst of noisy laughter. Perhaps Mike Tucker was one of them. Getting over it.

He stopped and faced her. ‘Colombo? You drove there and back?'

She stared up at him, her black hair lifting in the warm breeze from the sea. He could feel her studying him, and remembering too. She shook her head. ‘It was
all right.
I had a marine driver. It was quite safe.' She waited for him to hold her again. ‘You never forget, do you, Jamie?'

It was the first time she had used his name since they had met in the compound.

He said, ‘I never forget. You are so very precious to me.'

She started, and for a moment he thought she was unwilling for him to speak his thoughts.

But she answered softly, ‘Each night I prayed for you.'
Her teeth showed in a quick smile. ‘Several gods, but the same prayer!' She touched his hip and he felt her shiver. ‘You carry a gun?'

He did not want to release her. ‘Orders.' He did not elaborate. It all seemed so far away, hard to accept that right at this moment men were risking everything, and many were paying for it. In the past, it had been easier to disguise. A
bad show
, or somebody-or-other had
bought it.
Not just the hardness of young men at war, but a necessary shield, a forced callousness to allow the survivors to carry on. From what his father had told him, it had always been like that. Instead, he said, ‘I've been told to lie low for a bit. Three days, Pryce said. The famous war-correspondent is back, apparently.'

She held his arm with both hands. They felt hot, almost feverish through the borrowed shirt with its black and yellow cockade. ‘I know. He has been asking questions. The security people don't like it.'

He smiled. ‘Careless talk. But in his case it will more likely be another of his
“At last the story of this secret and dangerous war can be told. A spokesman said
. . .
”
et cetera.'

She looked away. ‘My father wants you to use the house. You can call the base every day, even the section operations.'

He sensed the doubt in her voice. ‘I met your Second Officer Blandford, by the way . . .'

She shrugged. Even that small movement made him want to share all of it with her, his doubts, his fears . . . His mind lingered over it. Fears came in all guises. He knew he would never share it with anybody else.

She said, ‘She will learn. Perhaps.'

A car started up very noisily and some birds clicked nervously in the undergrowth. She paused and looked at
him. ‘You could bring Lieutenant Villiers. My father would like that.'

‘I'm not sure.' He hesitated, hating his own shyness. ‘People might take it the wrong way, although I can tell you now that I'd deal with anybody who tried to make trouble for you!'

She seemed to relax. As if she had been unsure of his reaction. ‘Three days? Captain Pryce wanted me to take some leave. But I needed to be here, in case you wanted me.' She touched her eyes with her fingers. ‘All those miles of ocean, but you were never far away, not from me, Jamie.'

So Pryce accepted it, even if he did not agree. He tried to picture Pryce as the young submarine commander, loving someone, being loved. But the picture refused to form.

‘I'll speak with Charles Villiers. I'm sure he'd jump at it.'

She said gravely, ‘It was hard for him, I expect. His Singapore is gone.' She looked down. ‘Perhaps mine, too.'

He held her against him again. Supple, warm and so trusting. ‘I'd never hurt you, Victoria.'

‘I knew that was what you were thinking. My name, my honour, my father's feelings – you worry about everyone but yourself!'

Some headlights flicked on and off, and she said, ‘I must go now. Commander Crookshank is leaving. I am working for him also now.'

He protested, ‘I'll wait! Please let me do that!'

She released herself and said, ‘Tomorrow. Now you sleep, have a drink maybe.' She tried to laugh. ‘But not with Second Officer Blandford, she might steal you away!'

More doors slammed and she put her hands on his shoulders again and kissed him on the mouth. ‘There now,
I must go
.'

‘Victoria!' He saw her hesitate as she walked along the
same path. She said nothing. ‘I love you, Victoria. I've never said that to anyone before.' He repeated it: it was like hearing someone else. ‘I love you!'

Then she called, ‘I know!'

He waited, his heart pounding while he listened to the voices in the compound, Crookshank's thick whisky laugh, Pryce's cool brevity. He ran his fingers through his hair.
I love you.

He thought suddenly of all those young faces which had been lost, had
bought it.
For this one precious moment in his life perhaps they were able to share it.

Ross stepped down from the big staff-car and looked around in the bright sunshine. From the imposing frontage of the Mackenzie house, to the scarlet flowers and the clattering palms, still fresh from an overnight rainfall, it was a perfect welcome.

He signed a chit for Pryce's marine driver, all very official, to show that he and Villiers had been delivered safely and without incident. It seemed almost absurd after what they had done together. Even the driver had been too attentive to his duties to speak, and had not appeared to be listening to his passengers behind him.

It was always the same in this outfit, Ross thought. Openly all very relaxed and informal, until there was just one hint of another flap forthcoming. Then, as always, the whole section would close up like a giant clam.

The car moved away and Villiers said, ‘There were times . . .'

Ross smiled. ‘I know. Me too.' He turned his head. ‘What's that smell? Incense?'

Villiers stared at him as if he had misheard. Then he snapped his fingers, his face suddenly excited and very young.

‘Of course, it's Chinese New Year! How could I have forgotten?'

Ross picked up his small grip and looked at the sunshine through the trees. ‘New Year? I'll bet they had snow in England for ours!'

Strange that it was so hard to accept that he was here, when he had taken his arrival at their small headquarters almost for granted. It had come to him during the night. Tossing and turning, perhaps calling out as his troubled sleep changed into nightmare. He had met Mike Tucker for a few moments just before the car had come for him. They had studied one another, each unsure, looking for something. There were few words: those might come later. It would not have done for Dartmouth, or Flag Officer Submarines, but they had embraced, each feeling the other's pain and bruised relief.

Ross had said, ‘You could have gone home – you know that, you rascal!'

Tucker had given his lazy grin. ‘You'd never make it without me. The old firm, remember?' The rest would come out later. When it was possible to talk about it.

Villiers said, ‘There was a letter waiting for me. Caryl's taken legal advice about a divorce.' He grimaced. ‘Her father's no bloody help, though. Saw her marriage as a bit of a flag-day, apparently. He's a local bank manager – thinks the sun shines out of Major Sinclair's . . .' He broke off and flushed.

Ross turned and saw her on the steps, framed against the house's shadowed interior. She was wearing a white dress, with her arms bare, one of the scarlet flowers pinned in her hair.

Villiers took her hand.
‘Kung Hai Fat Choy!'
He lowered his head to kiss it.

She smiled. ‘And a Happy New Year to you too,
Lieutenant Villiers!' But she was looking directly at Ross, her eyes concerned, perhaps sad, as if Villiers' greeting had brought back another memory.

Then she walked slowly down the steps and said, ‘You are so welcome here.' She tilted her face for him to kiss her cheek. ‘You look so much better now.'

He grinned. ‘Do I? I must have been a real sight!'

She linked their arms with hers and together they walked into the house. More incense, and some red and golden orchids beside one of the Colonel's figurines.

Ross glanced at Villiers, and the shadow was there, too, in his face. Another reminder of what he had seen in Singapore? Of what he had lost?

A small servant appeared, bowing. Victoria said to Villiers, ‘He will take you to your room. We will meet you when you are ready.'

Alone with Ross by the two pillars, she said, ‘My father is playing chess with his old friend, the doctor here. I will show you round the gardens, in daylight this time.'

He felt her arm in his fingers, smooth and so tanned. It was strange that he felt so awkward with her. Had she been in uniform, perhaps it would have been different. Part of their world.

She said, ‘You are staring.'

‘Are you surprised?'

‘I'm glad.' She squeezed his arm. ‘I still cannot believe you are here, you are like this, with me.'

He stopped and held her gently. ‘I will not have you hurt again.' He watched her mouth, the small pulse beating in her throat. ‘But I have to be sure that you understand.'

She watched him searchingly. ‘Understand? What is there to understand?'

He gripped her arms and said, ‘I love you, girl. I have
since I first laid eyes on you. But it doesn't give me the right, the freedom . . .'

She pulled him firmly around and fell in step beside him.

‘You think I may do something I will regret? Like that other time my father told you of?' She shook her head, the black wings of hair hiding her eyes. ‘I was to blame, too. I wanted love. I thought I had found it.'

‘I needed you to know.'

She gazed up at him, her eyes bright in the reflected sunlight. ‘Yes, Jamie. Now I know.' She watched him for several seconds. ‘We are not supposed to speak of such things.' She shook his arm. ‘No, don't look at me. But we both know there is a big operation coming, something very dangerous, something which will take you away from me.'

‘Yes. It seems very likely.' There was no room for denials or lies, no time now to make things appear what they were not. What they might never be, for either of them. ‘I don't believe the top brass will be able to resist it.'

She smiled. ‘
Top brass.
You are so disrespectful, Jamie! What would our Captain Pryce think of that?' But her eyes were troubled again.

He kissed her very carefully. ‘Or
this
, Victoria?' He could feel her holding back, frightened perhaps; for her, for him, it was impossible to tell.