Jermain had paid a hasty visit to a Chinese tailor and was already beginning to regret his choice in clothing. The lightweight suit was pretty good for length, but across the shoulders it left nothing to spare, and once when he had leaned forward to fill his pipe he had felt an ominous split beneath his arm. But he was happy in spite of his uncertainty. Pleased that she had remembered him at all.

  She said suddenly, ‘There’s a place down here where we can eat. Nothing fancy. But it’s fairly quiet.’ She did not wait for a reply but swung the wheel towards an even narrower street where the overhanging houses made as if to touch each other.

  Above the shaded walls the evening sky was still bright and clear, like a strip of blue silk, and the narrowness of the street seemed to hold all the smells and sounds of the East, to tempt them from every direction at once.

  Jermain stood beside the car and stared at the low-windowed foodstalls and the small shops which crouched in total darkness away from the harsh light of the main road. There was a strong scent of fish and spices, and the fragrant odours of cooking meat and charcoal burners. It was all just about as far as you could get from the ordered life of the submarine, Jennain thought.

  A grey-bearded Chinese in a white smock bowed politely as the girlled the way into one of the small restaurants. It consisted of half a dozen booths, all but one of which were empty.

  Jill Conway sat opposite him, her eyes grave as she watched his face. ‘Will this suit you, Commander?’

  ‘The name is David.’ He smiled awkwardly. ‘The other is a bit formal!’

  She nodded. ‘David. It suits you.’ She looked up at the old proprietor. ‘The usual, please.’ She added for Jermain’s benefit, ‘It saves time this way. You can ponder over a Chinese menu for years and you nearly always end up with the same.’

  Unaccountably, Jermain felt a pang of jealousy. She was known here. Her casual confidence made him picture her with someone else, sitting just as he was. He said, ‘This is fine. I was going to take you to the club. All the trimmings, but this is much better.’

  She smiled. ‘I guessed that. I also guessed that you would hate going to the club as much as I would!’ She seemed to notice his suit for the first time. ‘Out of uniform it would be hard to guess what you do for a living.’ She placed her head on one side. ‘But there’s definitely something about the sea in you.’ Her mouth quivered in a grin. ‘A sort of homespun charm!’

  The meal when it came was good and served with all the usual ceremony. It was satay, the neatly skewered meat all the more succulent when dipped in the hot peanut sauce. Jermain found that he was very hungry, and once when he met the girl’s eyes he saw that she was watching him with open amusement.

  She said, ‘You look as if you’ve not eaten for days!’

  He dabbed his mouth carefully. ‘Like everything else aboard ship, eating becomes routine.’ He added slowly, ‘Besides which, the company is not so attractive.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She toyed with her plate. ‘I’ve enjoyed being with you. But then I knew I would. I always know.’

  Once more the pang. Jermain kept his voice non-committal. ‘I imagine you get a lot of entertaining?’

  ‘What a delightful way of putting it! Actually it’s pretty much of a bore. All talk. Not much else.’

  The little Chinese had placed a pot of tea on the table yet Jermain had hardly noticed. He was suddenly aware of the darkening shadows outside the window. Of the relentless passing of time.

  She said, ‘I guess I’ll have to be getting back soon.’

  Jermain controlled his disappointment. ‘Well, thanks for everything. I must have bored you sick with all my talk about the Temeraire He forced a grin. ‘It was good of you to listen!’

  She shook her head. ‘I’d have told you if I was bored. I was surprised that I was so interested.’ Impulsively she laid her hand on his. ‘But I’m leaving with my father tomorrow morning. I have to make a few calls.’

  Jermain stared at her hand. ‘I know. I’m only sorry we didn’t have more time.’

  ‘I know. I am too. You meet someone. For some reason you seem to click.’ She shrugged. ‘Then you move on.’ Her eyes moved over his face. ‘I’m not just saying this. I mean it.’

  ‘I knew you would be leaving soon. I just hoped …’

  She smiled gently. ‘What did you hope?’

  Jermain dropped his eyes. What was the point of going on? She belonged to another world. Another kind of generation. He answered, ‘It was nothing. I was just being stupid!’

  She pulled her hand away and began to rummage through her handbag. Without looking up she said quietly, ‘What would you think of a girl who was conceited enough to expect a man to wait for her after she’d been out enjoying herself late at night?’

  Jermain felt a surge of excitement, but replied carefully, ‘It all depends. If she was important to the man I think he’d be only too happy.’

  Shelooked up quickly, her face serious. ‘I don’t want it to end like this. Not just here and now.’

  He smiled. ‘Just give me the address. I’ll wait for you if it takes until dawn!’

  Her guard was down and she seemed confused but strangely pleased. ‘I have to go to the United Nations place outside the town.’ She looked uncertain. ‘It’s a long way, David.’

  ‘I’il find it.’ They were both staring at each other as if surprised at their own voices. ‘Don’t you worry about me.’

  She swallowed hard. ‘Well, that’s settled then. But I won’t blame you if you change your mind. I’ve got a damned cheek really!’

  Jermain stood up and paid the watching proprietor. ‘What time shall I come?’

  ‘I’ll make some excuse and leave the party about ten. You can wait in the old car if you like.’ She touched his arm impulsively. ‘It’s crazy, isn’t it?’

  ‘Not to me.’ He guided her to the car. ‘You go and get to your party, Jill. I’ll take a taxi back to the boat. I’ll pass the time with a bit of work!’

  She studied him seriously. ‘It must be the heat, but I wish I was coming with you!’

  Jermain watched her drive back into the traffic, her hair rippling against her face, then after a moment he walked in the opposite direction.

  *  *  *

  The taxi sped along the tree-lined road, its headlights reflecting on the overhanging branches and the tangle of thick brush which seemed to be only temporarily held at bay by the strip of tarmac. The turbaned Sikh behind the wheel drove extremely fast, his massive head bowed slightly towards a small radio which swung from the driving mirror, his shoulders twitching in time to the discordant music.

  In the back seat Jermain clung to a side strap and tried to think dearly about the immediate future. When he had returned to the Temeraire he had found the new orders waiting for him as if to curb his small moment of freedom and pleasure.

  The Temeraire was to proceed to sea the following day. The destination was Taiwan, where she would join up with units of the American Seventh Fleet.

  He had called his senior officers together and told them the news. Wolfe had accepted it with something like relief, Jermain thought. No questions or regrets. Just a few bald comments of duty and nothing more.

  Ross, the engineer officer, on the other hand, had been openly pessimistic. ‘It’s not that I wish to criticise the motives behind these orders, sir.’ He had stared woodenly at Jermain. ‘It’s just that I’m not happy about the condition of the hull. We’ve had no real check-up since that leak. On real sea duty anything might come to light!’

  Jermain had known it was an unspoken criticism of himself. Only he as captain could have stood out for the submarine’s Immediate return home for docking and inspection. But on the face of it there was neither opportunity nor real evidence. It might well be as the admiral had said. Just a fluke. A settling down of a new boat. Either way, there was no time left for manœuvre. The Americans expected British co-operation. Any sign of prevarication would certainly be taken as unwillingness to help in the delicate situation which threatened the peace and security of the Far East.

  Bleakly Jermain had stated what he expected of each and every man aboard. He had made each point clearly so that there should be no argument later as to where the blame would lie. He knew that he had driven a wedge between himself and the others, but there was no other way. Weakness led to slackness, which in turn could destroy all of them.

  It seemed a far cry from the excitement and adulation of the early days in Temeraire, he thought grimly. Then just to be aboard the new boat had been enough. The actual purpose of her role had seemed too remote to contemplate.

  The taxi squealed up a steep drive towards a brightly lit house. There appeared to be a light in every window and the wide forecourt was crammed with cars. Jermain paid off the driver and walked slowly towards the familiar silhouette of the old sports car. Already he was feeling foolish and began to wish he had not let the taxi leave without him.

  He ran his hand over the car seat. Tomorrow it would belong to someone else. And, like himself, would be forgotten. He eased himself behind the wheel and stared towards the stars.

  It had been easy to forget his real responsibilities. But there was no escape from any one of them.

  He tried to think about Taiwan and the voyage which lay ahead. It would be strange to work with the Americans again. To be committed to a course of action instead of merely contemplating a vague possibility.

  He heard the muffled beat of dance music and imagined Jill Conway in someone’s arms. It would be better to leave now, he decided. There was no point in hoping for the impossible. Just his being here could only cause her embarrassment and humiliation.

  ‘So you came, David!’ Her voice came out of the darkness and jolted him from his brooding thoughts.

  She was wearing a long dress of some dark colour so that her face and arms seemed to shine in the dim light. Jermain could smell her perfume, the same that she had worn that afternoon.

  He started to climb from the car but she said quickly, ‘You drive. For some unaccountable reason I think I may have had a bit too much to drink!’

  Jermain started the engine and drove carefully through the gates. Beside him the girl lay back in her seat, her face upturned towards the night sky. He said, ‘You should wear a coat. It’s cool now.’

  She laughed. ‘I don’t care about anything. You came. You said you would come and you did!’ She swayed against him as the car took the first curve, and Jermain felt her head rest momentarily on his shoulder. She added, ‘I thought that party would never end!’

  When they reached the outskirts of the town she sat upright and peered through the screen. ‘Take the next road on the right.’ She sounded tense. ‘Just along here.’

  Jermain followed the line of buildings and said, ‘This isn’t the way to your house.’

  ‘I know. Before my father came out here I shared a flat with two other girls. I told you.’

  Jermain felt her staring at him. ‘Yes, you did.’

  ‘Well, that’s where we’re going.’ She lapsed into silence.

  They passed a parked police Land Rover with its occupants smoking quietly beside the road and then swung into a small cluster of low buildings. It was very quiet. As if there was nobody else alive.

  Without speaking Jermain followed the girl up some stone steps and then waited as she switched on a light and flooded the small apartment with personality.

  She waved vaguely ‘They’re away. Now we can find a bit of peace.’

  Jermain stood uncertainly in the centre of the room and watched her as she moved round him. He saw that the dress was deep blue and that she looked both beautiful and unreachable.

  She stopped in front of him and then gave him a push. ‘For God’s sake sit down!’

  Jermain fell on to a sofa and felt his jacket give in to the unexpected treatment. He peeled it off and held it up. ‘I had a feeling it was a bad bargain!’

  She did not reply. She was still standing in the middle of the room, her arms hanging quite limp at her sides.

  Jermain stood up and walked towards her. Her eyes were fixed on his face, her expression a mixture of concern and excitement. She did not move or resist as he cupped his hands around her bare shoulders and pulled her to him.

  Then, suddenly, she pressed her face against his chest, her voice muffled and unsteady. ‘It has to be now, David. There might never be another time!’

  He could feel her shaking, just as he could sense his own longing. It was like pain. Like finality.

  ‘Are you sure?’ He no longer recognised his voice and the words seemed drowned by his heart-beats.

  She pushed herself away but would not look at him. She nodded violently. ‘Now. It must be!’

  Then she walked quickly from the room, so that for a brief instant Jermain thought he had imagined it all. The seconds dragged into minutes, then something made him follow her, as if at some kind of signal.

  The blue dress lay discarded on the floor, her shoes where she had kicked them in one corner of the room.

  Her eyes were wide and unblinking as she studied his face. She said, ‘Don’t say anything, David. Just come to me!’

  He crossed to the bed and ran his hand gently across her throat and breasts. He felt her shudder, felt his own longing roaring in his brain like unquenchable fire. Then his readymade suit lay beside her dress and his body against hers.

  As if from a long way off he heard her say, ‘Hold me!’ Her arms were about his neck, pulling him down, and she quivered as if from pain as he found her mouth and felt her tongue against his own.

  Long after the first desperate passion had passed they lay quite still, their bodies together, their limbs entwined like part of the whole.

  Jermain touched her spine and she moved her face against his shoulder. He knew that she was asleep but for a long time he held her against him, watching her, feeling the warmth and perfection of her body.

  He knew that this could never be the end of it. Not now. Not ever.

  9

  ‘If You Can’t Take a Joke…’

  The tannoy speaker on the control-room bulkhead hummed into life. ‘During the dog watches there will be a talk on astronomy given by Lieutenant Mayo. The film show tonight will be a Western, called Waggons West?

  The men on watch glanced at each other and grinned. It was back to normal. The private, regulated life of a small town.

  Max Colquhoun shifted his weight to the other foot and peered at the clock. Another hour of the watch still to run. Through the open hatch at the end of the control room came the heady aroma of rum as Sub-Lieutenant Luard supervised the forenoon issue, and above the faint hum of machinery Colquhoun could hear the distant clatter of dishes from the galley. He looked down at the chart. Two days out from Singapore, with the submarine’s silent power pushing them swiftly north-eastwards across the vast open waters of the South China Sea. Some two hundred miles away on the port beam was Hainan Island, which before had been just a name on a map. Now Colquhoun could never think of it without remembering Victor’s sudden death and the nightmare struggle with the wire on the rudder. Yet he was able to think of it more objectively, even calmly. He felt stronger within himself, and perhaps for the first time sensed a feeling of belonging to the Temercàre as a vital member of her community.

  Right now he was in sole command of the control room. The boat was running smoothly at a depth of one hundred and fifty feet, and the men at the controls were relaxed and easy with the now familiar instruments around them.

  Colquhoun still shared his watch with the first lieutenant, but Wolfe had made a curt excuse and had gone to the sick bay to see Griffin.

  That was another strange thing, Colquhoun thought. He had expected the captain to keep them apart, to avoid another clash like the night Wolfe had come aboard in such a dangerous mood. But it seemed that Jermain intended to ignore the affair. To kill it and keep it in its right perspective. The more Colquhoun thought about it, the more he felt doubts about his own behaviour. He had heard that Wolfe was going through some personal misery which had been at the root of his sudden rage. Colquhoun still did not know how else he could have coped with the situation, but he knew deep down that it was not yet over completely.

  He had tried to make contact with Wolfe. To clear the air once and for all. The day the submarine had sailed from Singapore he had found the first lieutenant alone in the chart-room. He had said quickly, ‘I’m sorry about the row, sir. I expect you think I acted stupidly. Looking back, I guess we both got a bit worked up!’

  Wolfe had glanced from the chart, his brows wrinkled slightly as if to grasp what he was talking about. Then he had given a mere shrug. ‘Oh that. Well, we live and learn, I suppose.’ He had tapped the chart. ‘It’ll be strange to work with the Americans again.’ His face had hardened. ‘Like old times for me.’

  And that was all. No recriminations. No further comment. But on the other hand he had stayed aloof and detached during all watches, and in the wardroom. Colquhoun had observed that he rarely seemed to speak to anyone, but went about his work with the quiet concentration of a man completely absorbed in his own personal sphere.

  Then there was Lightfoot. It was odd the way he kept crowding into Colquhoun’s thoughts. On the last day in Singapore Colquhoun had kept his word and taken the boy sailing in a borrowed dinghy. The latter had said nothing at all about Wolfe’s insinuations, but if anything it seemed to have drawn them closer together. In his cabin later Luard had said awkwardly, ‘I saw you out with that chap Lightfoot, Max. Taking a bit of a chance, aren’t you?’

  Colquhoun had stared at him with surprise. It was rarely that Luard ever spoke of anything in such a serious tone. ‘What of it?’

  Luard had tried to pass it off. ‘You know how it is, People talk. You should know. It happens!’

  Colquhoun walked thoughtfully across the deck and peered over the helmsman’s shoulder. It happens. What did it mean?