Strike from the Sea (1978) (30 page)

He felt something like terror sweep over him. He would never get a ship again if his mind had broken under the shock. Not even a clapped-out escort, never mind a submarine.

He had to get back.
Must
. He felt tears running down his cheeks. Despair, self-pity, even anger at his inability to find the power to reason made him groan aloud.

An orderly was at the bedside in seconds.

Ainslie said weakly, ‘Keep your bloody needles away from me!’

The man grinned down at him. ‘Not this time, sir. This time it’s a visitor.’

Ainslie turned his head and stared at the door. She was standing just outside in the passageway, wearing a pale dress, her hair hanging loose as it had at Christmas.

The orderly beamed. ‘When Rear-Admiral Granger came yesterday, sir, he said it was all right.’

Ainslie swallowed hard.
Yesterday?
Was it possible?

She crossed the room and sat on the chair, her mouth smiling but her eyes filled with concern and pity.

She said softly, ‘They wouldn’t let me come sooner. Your Lieutenant Quinton came to the hotel and told me about it. I think he left a lot out, but the rest was awful enough.’

Ainslie was almost afraid to speak in case he broke down again.

He said, ‘You look lovely. God, I think that but for you I’d have gone under completely.’

Her eyes widened. ‘You meant that!’ She rested her fingers lightly on his bare shoulder. ‘Don’t excite yourself. I heard about your wound.’ Despite her care she was unable to prevent her lip from quivering or her fingers from gripping his skin. ‘But you’re back now. That’s all that matters.’

‘You should have gone. When I heard about the
Bengal Princess
being sunk I realized how dangerous it’s all become.’ Ainslie tried to move closer to her. ‘You must get away. I couldn’t bear it if you were still here when they –’

She put her hand on his mouth. ‘Shhh. We’ll manage something. You’ll see.’

Ainslie smiled. He could smell her skin, feel her softness. It was like another dress.

She saw his sudden anxiety and said, ‘No. It’s real this time, Robert. I shouldn’t be here like this. You know it, and I know it.’ She withdrew her hand and pushed some hair from her forehead. ‘But I don’t want it to stop.’

Somewhere, a hundred miles away, a bell rang, and she said, ‘Why is it that when you want to stay it’s time to go? When you hate something it lasts forever.’

Ainslie watched her as she stood up and smoothed her dress.

‘When can I see you again?’

‘Soon.’ She watched him gravely, as if she wanted to remember everything, to share his pain. ‘Arnold Granger will try to help. He’s a dear.’

The door opened and the orderly said, ‘Time’s up, sir.’

She bent over the bed and kissed him slowly on the mouth, her hair falling across his shoulders like warm silk.

He said, ‘Take care.’

She moved to the door. ‘You, too.’ Then she was gone.

The next visitor was Quinton, strangely alien in clean whites after his battle-torn appearance in the submarine.

He said, ‘
Soufrière
’s almost back to rights again. We’ve done most of the welding and patching ourselves. The dockyard mateys are too scared to risk getting their heads blown off. But we’re fairly well protected, plenty of ack-ack and heavy flak around the harbour.’

‘I’ve not thanked you yet, John.’ Here it was again, the emotion, the inability to find the right words. ‘I don’t know how you did it, but thanks.’

Quinton smiled. ‘You got us in and out. The rest was a case of thinking ahead of the Jap skippers up top. Fortunately, we’ve been at it a helluva lot longer than they have.’ He became serious. ‘Things look pretty ropey. I’ve heard that the line is falling right back to the island, double-quick. Then they’ll blow up the Causeway and dig in. Operations think the Japs will try another naval attack now that they’ve got Malaya in the bag. But I intend to make it my business to get you out, no matter what.’ He grinned. ‘I found the lady for you. Okay?’

Ainslie reached out and gripped his wrist. ‘Okay.’ It was all he could say.

Quinton looked at his watch. ‘Must get back. I’m restricting our lads to the harbour. Things are a bit ugly in town. Everyone’s so busy blaming somebody else they can’t see the danger coming smack at them!’ He was unwilling to break the contact. ‘Don’t worry, Skipper. I’ll take good care of the boat until you get back.’ He jammed on his cap. ‘So long.’

Three more days of uncertainty were to pass before Ainslie was told that he was leaving the hospital.

He had taken his first steps around the little room, aided by the same patient orderly, and had even been allowed to see the savage-looking scar on his shoulder where they had probed to make certain there were no more fragments of shell splinters.

Feeling like a new boy at school, carefully dressed in a loose white shirt and shorts, the orderly following him with his cap, Ainslie was guided to a field ambulance.

The doctor said cheerfully, ‘Take a few days to get the feel of things, old chap. After that, well, we shall see, eh?’

Sitting propped in the slow-moving ambulance, Ainslie got his first glimpse of Singapore for over three weeks. Bombed buildings were everywhere, upturned carts and other vehicles had been dragged into side streets and abandoned like piled rubbish. The police were very much in evidence, and scores of soldiers roamed the streets like a lost army.

The orderly remarked, ‘Now that the RAF has regrouped on the island we’re getting better air cover, sir. Bit too late if you ask me.’

The ambulance jolted over some scattered bricks and turned into a familiar road.

Raffles, apparently unscathed, passed the line of Ainslie’s vision, and he felt his heart beginning to thump wildly.

What had she said?
Granger will try to help
.

He struggled round in his seat and peered at the Royal Hotel. One wing had been sheered right off, leaving a blackened tangle of charred frames and fallen masonry. It was like a disfigurement to the old place. An insult.

There were armed soldiers at the gates, and a corporal waved the ambulance inside with barely a glance.

There was a large notice on the wall.
Off Limits To All Personnel
.

The orderly made ready to help Ainslie to the ground. He said, ‘We took over part of the hotel for walking wounded, sir. There are still some civvies here, but not many now.’

Ainslie looked at him. He did not know. It was like a precious secret.

He saw the old Indian porter coming to meet him, and was shocked to see how he had aged. His coat was stained and patched, and there was a burn mark on his topee.

‘Greetings, Commander-sahib!’

Ainslie smiled. ‘Thank you. It takes more than a few bombs to scare you, I see.’

The old man dabbed his eyes and sniffed. ‘We will show them, sahib.’ He shuffled away, his world already gone.

A sergeant was sitting at the reception desk, and he jumped to attention as Ainslie walked stiffly into the cool shade.

‘’Mornin’, sir.’ He waved to some bearers. ‘I’ll have you taken up to your quarters. In the event of an air raid, we are supposed to go down to the cellars.’ He did not smile as he added in the same clipped voice, ‘Fact is, I’d as soon die in bed meself as go down there!’

The orderly was giving some papers and Ainslie’s bag to the sergeant, while two Chinese servants waited for their instructions nearby. Ainslie examined the big room, feeling its shabby defiance all around him. A crack in the far wall, zigzagging and widening, some plaster hanging from the ceiling, the clock face broken, as were some of the pictures.

But a few civilians were sitting at the little tables, neatly dressed, their faces giving nothing away.

The orderly said, ‘Now, sir, if you’ll go with these chaps?’

Ainslie turned stiffly and saw her coming down the stairs.’

She said quietly, ‘I will show the commander his room.’ She was watching his face, linking them together with her eyes, excluding everyone else.

‘Very well, miss.’ The soldier winked at the sergeant behind the desk. ‘I’ll be back tomorrow.’

The sergeant watched the girl’s legs up the stairs and saw her slip her hand through the commander’s arm. Her husband had been in the hotel yesterday, but would not be back for several days.

The sergeant looked down at his desk.
It’s all right for some
.

Ainslie opened his eyes and stared straight up at the ceiling while his mind grappled with the unfamiliar surroundings. It was very dark in the room, although through some slits in the shutters he saw moonlight.

His mouth felt parched, like dust, and he groaned aloud with sudden anger. They must have given him something to put him under again. It was night-time and very quiet. He could vaguely recall getting undressed, taking some tea which another orderly had brought him. Then nothing, until now.

Something like muffled thunder moved against the shutters. It was gunfire, artillery, and a long way off. Like a threat.

A shadow moved across the small slivers of moonlight, and for a moment he thought it was an orderly.

Then he felt her hand on his forehead, the clink of glass as she poured some water from a jug.

She said softly, ‘Here. This will help.’ She put her hand under his head, tilting it so that the ice-cold water could trickle down his throat.

‘How long have you been here?’ He felt ashamed that she should find him like this. He was sweating badly, the sheet clinging to him.

‘I came after I had put Frances to bed.’ He sensed her turning away to look at the opposite wall, beyond which the child was sleeping. ‘You were tossing and turning. I thought it might be useful if I stayed.’

He felt her sit carefully on the side of the bed, her presence, her warmth close against him.

‘How is she?’

She sounded nervous and unsure. ‘Better, I think. I am full of hope since that day. Frances never leaves your elephant out of her sight.’

‘Is it all right your being here like this? I wouldn’t want to cause trouble for you. After all you’ve done.’

She shook slightly, with a laugh or sob he could not tell.

‘Done? What have I done except involve you?’ She tossed her head in the way he remembered so clearly. ‘Anyway, Guy’s away. He’s off on one of his trips to see what’s happening about his precious boats. But I’m glad he made a fuss.’ She touched Ainslie’s shoulder very gently. ‘Otherwise we’d not be together like this.’

He took her hand and held it to his face. ‘I know. I’m grateful.’

‘Would you like me to leave now? Will you be all right? You ought to try and get some proper sleep.’

He reached up and gripped her arm through her robe. He felt useless, clumsy and unable to think clearly. The touch of her beneath his fingers, the pounding of his heart, it was all making his mind reel.

He replied unsteadily, ‘I’m selfish, but I’m telling you the truth. I want you here. Now and always.’

She stood up lightly, and for an instant he thought he had spoiled everything and driven her away. Then he saw the shutters swing open, so that she stood out in silhouette against the pale moonlight. Then very deliberately she dropped the robe from her shoulders and turned towards him.

Her skin held the reflected light, making her shine like a statue, and then she was near him once more, her hand pressing against his chest, holding him down as she slid into the bed beside him.

‘No. You’re not well. I’ll not have you hurt yourself.’

She silenced his protests with a kiss, and then another, her hair tumbling around them, making their embrace even more secret.

She drew away very slowly, and he could sense her looking at him, her back and shoulders curved above him in the moonlight.

Then, equally slowly, she came down, until her breasts were touching him, exciting him further until he thought he would cry out.

Ainslie said huskily, ‘I love you. You know that now.’

Her hair was touching him everywhere, and as her body arched over him, embracing him, holding him like a captive, he heard her whisper, ‘I know. And I will show you
how
I know.’ Then she enfolded him completely, gripping and receiving him until they were joined as one.

It seemed as if the torment of their passion and love would never stop, until with a gasp she lay limp across him, her lips murmuring in his ear, her fingers caressing him to bring back the fire yet again.

She remained with him until he eventually fell into a deep sleep and the moon had exchanged its light with the dawn. Then, very carefully, she stood up beside the bed and for a long moment stayed looking down at him before covering him with a sheet.

Booted feet clattered in the yard outside, and she slipped into her robe before moving to the window to stare out at the city.

In the grey light it looked almost beautiful. She thrust her hand through her robe, touching her breast as he had done, speaking his name to herself.

Then she closed the shutters and left the room to a new peace.

15

The Secret

CAPTAIN PHILIP ARMYTAGE,
acting commodore, tapped the wall map with a pointer and said bleakly, ‘This is a sad moment, gentlemen, but nevertheless I believe it makes our position less perilous.’

Ainslie glanced around the small, airless room at his companions. A handful of naval officers and two army majors. And yet Armytage spoke as if he was addressing a multitude.

The temporary HQ to which Armytage had moved his staff was little more than a cellar, situated between the city and Kallang airfield. The map on the wall was the one which Rear-Admiral Granger had used, but the yellow tape had been removed, as if out of consideration for the final collapse of all resistance on the Malayan mainland.

What did Armytage
really
believe, he wondered? The Causeway had been blown up, the last rear-guard from the jungles, Australian infantry and men of the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, had crossed on to the island. The final battle for the fortress was set.

The harbour was littered with wrecks as the Japanese kept up their daily air raids and brought home the close reality of war. It seemed as if the enemy’s juggernaut was increasing speed rather than the opposite, and each day brought news of fresh advances and landings from Borneo to Celebes. Against them, seemingly in another world, was arrayed an assorted bag of Dutch, Australian, British and American warships, their overall command as mixed as their methods. And yet Armytage had just been speaking of ‘backs to the wall’ and ‘tempered by battle’, as if it was just a matter of time before roles were reversed.