By a miracle the country had come through. There was no army worth mentioning and survival depended on elderly gentlemen with Great War medals standing guard on cross roads armed with shotguns, pitchforks and – for God’s sake! – pikes. Ageing generals were serving in the Local Defence Volunteers – the Look, Duck and Vanish Brigade, as it was known – under men who’d been their subalterns but had the advantage of being younger and more active, and Kelly heard that Admiral Tyrwhitt, his former chief, had enlisted as a private.
They had rescued over 300,000 men from France, when the expected total had been in the region of 20,000, and, though they had no weapons and there seemed to be not a single gun or tank in the whole country, they still had the nucleus of an armed force; moreover, an armed force with the skill and knowledge obtained from crossing swords with the Nazis.
It was clear they’d been lucky. Thanks to Gort and the Navy, the country had survived. If Dunkirk had failed, it was doubtful if Britain could have withstood the Nazis because Churchill still wasn’t securely in the saddle and in the ranks of his ministers he’d been obliged to accept men who’d once been appeasers. But at least, now, for the first time, there was the feel of a strong hand on the wheel. Dunkirk had burned with self-sacrifice and high endeavour like an incandescent flame and had awakened something spontaneously all over the country, and the cricket, the half-days and the long weekends had stopped overnight. Self-indulgence became something to be ashamed of, and men and women at last found the direction and the encouragement they needed.
Virtually unemployed, without a ship, Kelly found himself once more under Corbett. He had a room at the Castle and Dover had suddenly become the front line. Yet there was a curious calm about the country so that he somehow couldn’t imagine it panicking, perhaps even a feeling of relief that there were no longer any doubtful allies to worry about and they could go it alone.
With six British and three French destroyers lost and twenty-three others badly damaged in nine days, the Navy was stretched to its limit. To redress the balance a little and despite the horror it produced among those who could foresee a whole decade of bitterness and distrust, the French Fleet at Oran was destroyed by gunfire by Admiral Somerville’s ships from Gibraltar to prevent it falling into the hands of the Germans. As a French expert, Kelly was flown to the Rock to act as interpreter, but the affair had been concluded before he arrived and he was promptly flown back, wondering if Archie Bumf had escaped and what he made of it all. Meanwhile, the government was negotiating with West Indian bases for fifty old American first-war vessels to take the place of the lost destroyers, because the U-boats had already begun to step up their assault on the convoys in the Atlantic.
In their efforts to subdue British resistance, the Germans had also started bombing Channel convoys, an operation that had soon changed to an all-out assault on RAF stations in the south, and everybody guessed it was the prelude to an invasion.
Slipping back to Thakeham to collect kit to replace that which he’d lost at Dunkirk, Kelly found only Paddy at home.
‘Mother’s gone to see Brother Kelly,’ she announced. ‘They fished him out of the sea with nothing worse than a broken toe and a bad cut on his head.’
They hugged each other, thankful not to be in mourning, and sat down to a meal of bacon and eggs cooked by Paddy in Biddy’s kitchen.
‘How’s Hugh?’ Kelly asked.
‘Doing his daredevil pilot thing,’ Paddy said, suddenly becoming serious. ‘He’s converting to Hurricanes. The RAF’s asked for volunteers from the Navy to help out.’
She gave him a quick look and, behind the smile, he saw the fear in her eyes. Young men were being killed every day along the south coast of England in an effort to prevent the Luftwaffe wrenching the command of the sky from the RAF, and he tried to anaesthetise her fear with distractions.
‘How about you? When are you going to lead him to the post?’
‘As soon as there’s time.’ She gave him a fleeting smile. ‘We’ve all been a bit busy lately, haven’t we?’
During the weekend Hugh telephoned to say he’d finished his conversion course and as Kelly, on his way back to Dover, kissed Paddy goodbye, he held her gently for a while.
‘Take it easy,’ he said quietly. ‘It might never happen.’
‘On the other hand,’ she replied in her forthright manner, ‘it jolly well might. I know what his chances are because we’ve had one or two pilots in the hospital and I’ve talked to them.’ She lifted her eyes to his, steady and fearless and willing to face what lay ahead. ‘But I’m ready for it. We’ve already been to bed together and I regret nothing, only the fact that the bloody war’s somehow got in the way at a time when we need to be so close you couldn’t shove a fig leaf between us.’ She lifted her face to gaze frankly at him. ‘I’ve applied to join the services.’
‘Which one?’
‘The Navy, of course.’ She managed a shaky grin. ‘Can you imagine what Hugh or Father, or Brother Kelly – or you, for that matter! – would say if I joined one of the less senior services?’
Back in Dover, Kelly found himself listening every evening to the news, wondering when he was going to hear that Hugh was no longer alive. The country’s future hung on a thread as fragile as a spider’s web. RAF pilot casualties were enormous and Hugh was already in action, he knew, because Rumbelo, informed from home via Biddy, had told him he was.
When work permitted, he saw Charley. But she’d changed from being an enthusiastic girl to a prickly woman. She seemed prepared to accept him in a matter-of-fact sort of way that he found difficult to accept, and they rarely talked about the life she’d lived in America and never about the past. She was friendly but never encouraging, and he found himself falling hopelessly in love with her again. When she’d always been available and he’d expected her to marry him, he’d taken her for granted, but now her very inaccessibility worked on his system like an aphrodisiac.
In September, he was sent to Harwich and from there to Felixstowe, to sort out problems at HMS Beehive and pick up information for the establishment of new motor torpedo boat bases at Portland and Fowey and the setting up of a new command to deal solely with coastal forces. The place was full of noisy young men, most of them Hostilities-Onlys, and his rank didn’t bother them in the slightest, though they were somewhat in awe of his medal ribbons and once they found what they represented were inclined to shove enthusiastically with their elbows to make room for him at the bar.
Because they’d not been moulded by the long education and apprenticeship of the regulars, they had far less respect for their elders than the products of Dartmouth, but they also had fewer inhibitions. They were astute enough to show respect for what was admirable in naval tradition, but brought a fresh breeze of ribald derision into a service where conservatism was a common characteristic. Those recalled elderly officers who grumbled about their indifference to the niceties of dress when entering or leaving port or the way they made mating sounds at the Wrens from the ship’s deck had been inclined at first to go red in the face with anger but by this time they were all growing used to each other, and as the newcomers tried to look like professionals and began to use King’s Regulations and Admiralty Instructions as if it were a Bible, the older men became more and more amateur in appearance and used it to prop up the broken leg of a table.
The war was now in its second stage as they drew breath after Dunkirk. Slowly the country rearmed itself. Tank, field gun and fighter deliveries mounted steadily. The embers had only glowed after Dunkirk but, with Churchill blowing on them, they blazed into a fire of enthusiasm. With the Germans in possession of the Atlantic seaboard from Norway to Spain, however, the main problem remained the convoys and supplies from America, and Kelly knew that his time ashore was growing short.
His first leave since the war had begun took him to London to attend to his father’s affairs. From there he went to Thakeham. Biddy greeted him warily and he guessed that Rumbelo had told her that Charley was around again. Rumbelo had never made any bones about his attitude. He’d never agreed with Kelly’s marriage to Christina and, given the chance, Kelly suspected he’d scheme to the limit to bring them together. Biddy was more circumspect and careful to show neither doubt nor pleasure, concentrating solely on the pride she felt at her son being given a DSM in the rash of medals that had resulted from Dunkirk.
‘Tell him to apply for a commission, Biddy,’ Kelly advised. ‘I’ll push it with everything I’ve got.’
He spent the week going through his father’s papers. As he’d expected, the old man had left him nothing but the title. He’d never really known him, anyway, and in the confusion after Dunkirk had not even been to his funeral. He suspected, in fact, that he’d still been asleep when they’d put the old man away, and all he had left of him were his old uniforms with their tarnished braid and a few relics of his service under Victoria.
The place seemed curiously empty with Rumbelo’s family all away and he was wondering if he dared go back to Dover to see Charley when Biddy appeared with a telegram. This time he thought it was about Hugh but what it contained was totally unexpected.
‘1130. OHMS ADMIRALTY LONDON AS OF LAST NIGHT. CAPT. GK MAGUIRE THAKEHAM – YOU ARE APPOINTED 23RD DESTROYER FLOTILLA IN COMMAND AUGUST 17. JOIN MERSEY FORTHWITH – FROM ADMIRALTY.’
It could hardly be called a step up.
He arrived in London in the middle of an air raid and had to waste two hours in the Underground at Victoria. The first person he met at the Admiralty was Corbett.
‘Hello, Kelly,’ he said. ‘Hear they’ve given you the twenty-third Flotilla. They’re I-class ships and pretty up-to-date. You’re attached to C-in-C, Western Approaches, but, make no mistake about it, it’s only on a short-term loan because things are going to boil up in the Med now that Mussolini’s come in on Hitler’s side. Gibraltar’s having her civilians evacuated and, as you know, Malta was hardly in a state to look after herself up to a month or two ago. But, with the Mediterranean Fleet in foreign waters and surrounded by foreign land at Alexandria, someone suddenly woke up to the fact that the place has advantages as an air base. It’ll need supplying, though, and you’ll probably find yourself doing it.’
As Kelly left, he met Verschoyle, who was quick to congratulate him.
‘I think you and I had better go and have a drink,’ he said. ‘I’ve got the Nineteenth. Four Hunt-class ships – Chatsworth, Hallamshire, Ashby and Rushden, small and a bit older than yours, but a flotilla nevertheless.’
They took a taxi but, instead of getting out of it at their club, as Kelly had expected, Verschoyle stopped it at a Mayfair address.
‘It’s time you met Christina again,’ he said.
Kelly was wary because Christina had never been noted for her kindness, but though she was beautiful and as hard as a diamond, this time she was subdued and even friendly.
‘You grow more good-looking, Kelly,’ she observed. ‘Age becomes you.’
‘You, too, Christina.’
She smiled. ‘I no longer throw the crockery at James,’ she said. ‘And since the war started, I even try not to be too selfish. I don’t suppose it’ll last, though, especially as I can no longer go to the South of France for a change.’
‘At least you haven’t fled to America,’ Kelly said. ‘Quite a few have.’
Christina gave a snort of disgust. ‘Whatever our faults,’ she said, ‘my family never dodged danger. If the Germans do make it across the Channel, you’ll not find me Kowtowing to them, and I’ve dropped a lot of people who I know damn well would. I wouldn’t be seen dead in a neutral country while England’s fighting for her life.’ She smiled. ‘Hugh’s written to say he’s been given the DSC for killing Germans, by the way, and that ought to please him because he always thought you wore the most spectacular array of ribbons he’d ever seen’ – she paused and tapped his chest – ‘among which, incidentally, I noticed two new ones.’
There was no longer any feeling for his ex-wife and Kelly was not sorry to escape and catch the evening train to Dover. The first thing that had occurred to him when he’d read his orders had been that he had to see Charley, because he’d wondered more than once if he dared try to put their relationship on a more stable footing. When they were together, beneath the brittle shell of their conversation there were always strange underlying currents and he knew she was as aware of them as he was. But he knew also that she was no longer awed by the mystique of sailormen and had never forgiven him for disappearing on duty from Shanghai when she’d arrived there in 1927 to marry him.
But, because they’d been too close to each other for too much of their childhood and youth, she also could not entirely put him aside, and she greeted him warmly enough, though with just enough wariness to make him doubtful. As he waited for her to give him a drink, he noticed that the photograph of the RAF officer had vanished, and he guessed that its disappearance had been attended with some thought and a decision to start again.
It gave him hope but, as she offered him his glass, he noticed she was studying him cautiously, with the suppressed excitement of a dog about to start a fight. His own excitement had not gone unnoticed and she’d already guessed why he was there.
Swallowing the last of his drink, he stood up and faced her. ‘I’m going to sea again, Charley,’ he said.
She looked up at him, the dark shadows under her eyes making her seem more fragile. ‘I’m pleased for you, Kelly,’ she said. ‘I know it’s what you want.’
He stared at her, faintly baffled by her indifference. His mood was a curious and uncharacteristic blend of defeat and confusion. He’d given orders so long he was almost physically uncomfortable in a relationship that required a democratic exchange of viewpoints. Besides, he loved his country and was prepared to fight for it and he resented her coolness that implied he was being put on trial for his attitudes and convictions.
He forced himself to continue, because he had to. ‘Marry me before I go, Charley,’ he said quietly.
Indignation flared in her eyes, then it vanished again and he saw an infinite pity and distress fill them for the merest fraction of a second. For a long time she was silent and his heart began to thump. He’d been in love with her all his life despite Christina, despite Teresa, despite all the other women he’d known – and his love had returned undiminished since he’d bumped into her again. During his period with Corbett, he’d seen her occasionally about the corridors of Dover Castle and had often heard other officers commenting on her, even trying to invite her to dinner. She’d always refused them, however, and, because his reputation and quick temper were legendary, when they’d seen him with her the word had gone round quickly and she’d been left alone. She hadn’t seemed to mind, existing in a quiet vacuum, her mind curiously secretive, and, though her expression had never been inviting, it had also always been friendly.
Because he’d convinced himself he had a chance, her answer rocked him. ‘My answer to that one’s simple, Kelly,’ she said, looking him straight in the face. ‘No.’
The proposal had not been impulsive and, not really expecting her to refuse him, he was aware of a sick disappointment.
‘They’ve given me a flotilla,’ he said. ‘And now my father’s dead I have the baronetcy.’
He’d hoped faintly that the news might change her attitude but he ought to have known better and she showed no interest whatsoever. Instead she gave him that faint smile he’d come to know so well.
‘And you think you need a wife to go with them?’
‘No! Good God, no, Charley!’ He tried a different line, still curiously humble. ‘When I came back from Dunkirk,’ he said, ‘we spent the night together.’
She had no idea what had prompted his surrender, and he couldn’t know she was too afraid of him to let him come near her. Too many wasted years had gone by and, though she knew he blamed himself for them, she knew also that much of the blame lay with her, too. She’d expected to take first place in his life when naval wives never did. She’d been jealous of his ships and the devotion he’d given to his men.
‘What difference does that make?’ she said.
He was looking at her in bewilderment, feeling she might have had the detachment to feel some sort of compassion for him, then he thrust the feeling aside, knowing it was self-pity, something he despised.
She tried to speak calmly. She’d been too much alone over the years, aching for his love as he thought of his ships and the sea, frightened at the thought of him leaving her again – and again – and again. She was trying hard to control her emotions but the effort was so physically draining she felt exhausted. He was not aware of the unbearable tension in her and that she was afraid that at any instant she might burst into tears. Her eyes were dark and haunted against the pallor of her face.
‘Standards have changed,’ she pointed out, forcing her voice to be steady. ‘It isn’t 1920 any more and there’s a war on. People are concerned to get what they can out of life, while they still have it.’
What she said shocked him, but she didn’t pursue the matter with accusations.
‘I was in love with you once, Kelly,’ she admitted coolly. ‘That’s true.’
‘And now?’
‘No.’
‘Will you ever be again?’
Her shoulders moved tiredly. She felt she’d like to cry but crying had always come hard to her and her emotions left her confused and bewildered. ‘How do I know? You haven’t changed much, but I have. I’ve had to.’
‘Charley–’ he paused. ‘If anything happened to me, there’d be my pension. It wouldn’t be insubstantial and I happen to know you’re not well off.’
She gave him a sad little smile. ‘You sound as if you’re offering something from a bargain basement.’
‘Perhaps I am,’ he said quietly. ‘Perhaps it’s that important.’
She looked up at him quickly, catching the stillness of his expression, the sudden cold appraisal of his eyes. She experienced an uncomfortable twist of fear and need but she couldn’t manage any effort to help him. She was giving nothing away because her own marriage – for which she’d always blamed him – had been a disaster and had tied her to a man she’d never even been able to respect.
Kelly was only sadly conscious of the difference in her, aware that something that had existed between them had gone and would take years to put back.
‘I just wanted you to feel–’ he began. Then he stopped and shrugged ‘But it doesn’t matter now. After all, your life’s your own. I’ve no claim on it.’ He managed a smile. ‘You’ll be able to see all those other people at the Castle without concerning yourself any more with whether I’ll be jealous or not.’
‘I didn’t concern myself, Kelly,’ she said sharply. Then she realised she was being unnecessarily cruel and her voice dropped. She didn’t meet his eyes. ‘And there aren’t any other men.’
‘There will be when I’m not here.’
‘No.’
He tried again, not with much hope. ‘Then why won’t you marry me?’
He was frowning and it pleased her somehow to find he was human enough to lose his temper. It made him more selfish and more real.
‘Because the Navy has no time for women, Kelly,’ she said. ‘In the Army, wives are part of the regiment. The Navy’s concern is with ships, and wives are merely indiscretions.’
There was an element of truth in what she said and there was a long silence before she spoke again, quietly, as if he’d never even mentioned marriage.
‘When do you take over?’
‘Tomorrow.’
‘Where are you staying?’
‘I expect I can find a room at the Castle.’
There was a long pause. ‘You could always stay here,’ she said.
He put down his glass. His hand was unsteady and it rattled against the mantelshelf.
‘I thought you said–’
Her eyes met his, clear and unequivocal. ‘I said I wouldn’t marry you, Kelly. That’s what I said.’
It seemed a strange sort of agreement but he was afraid, now that he’d found her, of losing her again and was willing to accept anything that would allow him to be near her occasionally.
‘We shall be based on the Mersey, I believe,’ he said. ‘That means Western Approaches. But not for long, I’m afraid.’
‘The Mediterranean?’
He guessed she’d heard something at the Castle and he nodded. ‘They’re expecting trouble there.’
‘And they want Ginger Maguire.’
The comment flattered him a little but he remained humble. ‘Something like that.’
‘I expect you’re just what’s needed.’
Hell on wheels as a sailor, Mabel had once said of him, but a dead loss as a hearts-and-flowers type. It seemed he still was.
‘There may be odd weekends before we go,’ he said slowly, picking his way carefully through the shoals of thought that troubled him. ‘I’d like to come and see you.’
His humility troubled her more than she’d thought possible. ‘Why not?’
‘Won’t it make any difference?’
‘None at all, Kelly. We’ve been friends far too long.’ Friends! It was like a jab in the guts from a marline spike. ‘There’s only one bed, I’m afraid. And the settee’s hard and not nearly big enough.’
She seemed to be dropping hints.
‘Perhaps I can leave a camp bed here,’ he suggested.
She looked at him unblinkingly, giving nothing away but not hostile either.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Do that. You could put it in the living room.”
Her coolness almost broke his heart and he knew the hints he’d imagined weren’t hints at all. Why did women feel they were the only ones who could suffer? Why did they feel that men, because they didn’t show their emotions, because very often they’d been trained not to show their emotions, never had any? She’d clearly lost control when he’d come back from Dunkirk, and she was completely in possession of herself now.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I’ll do that.’
But he knew he never would.