A Dawn Like Thunder by Douglas Reeman Page B

porter banged open the door and peered in at them cheerfully. ‘Car’s alongside, Mrs Sinclair. Your husband is waiting.’ As she turned towards the door he looked at her bare legs.
    Villiers wanted to hit him, and when the door closed behind them, he said aloud, ‘It’s not just a dream to me. Not any more!’
    Ross was waiting for him. ‘Sorry about that, Charles. I didn’t know.’
    Villiers swung on him, his eyes blazing, ready for the innuendo. Then he relented, ‘No,
I’m
sorry. I didn’t know, either.’
    He felt Ross’s hand on his shoulder as they watched Pryce striding briskly out of the building. Then Ross said, ‘That posh hotel of yours. Do you think we might have an enormous drink there when his lordship gets us back to London?’
    Their eyes met. It had been a damned close thing.
    Villiers said, too casually, ‘Best suggestion I’ve heard all day.’
    â€˜If you ever want to tell me about it –’
    Villiers tried to smile. ‘Thanks. You can do the same, if you like.’
    Pryce was back. ‘Must get cracking. Lot to do.’ But, for once, there was no bounce in his voice.
    As they walked into the sunshine Villiers thought he heard her voice.
He would kill me.
She had meant it.
    The severe-looking Wren officer, her chin resting in her hand, raised her eyes from her desk as the door opened slightly. It had been a long day and the air was humid and sticky, as the black-out blinds had already gone up across the windows, and there was no movement or even the hint of a fan.
    â€˜Sorry, the office is closed.’ She shaded her eyes against the desk lamp and recognized the young R.N.V.R. lieutenant watching her. She relaxed slightly. ‘Lieutenant Villiers. Feeling a bit lonely with all the others gone?’
    Villiers glanced at the other door. There was a light on there, too. ‘I was wondering if I might see the rear-admiral.’ He felt suddenly lost, out of his depth. It had been stupid to come. But she was right: it
was
different, now that Ross and the others he had met in Pryce’s ‘cohort’ had been spirited away. A fast convoy to Colombo, where everything had been set up to receive them.
    Pryce had said airily, ‘You’ll be following in a couple of weeks. I want you to take charge of the last party coming down from Scotland. Good experience. Don’t worry – the war won’t end before you get to Ceylon!’
    The Wren was saying, ‘It’s a bit unusual.’ She saw the strain, the uncertainty on his tanned face. Maybe he had changed his mind about returning to the Far East. She had read his file, and knew as much about Villiers as all the others. Who could blame him?
    No, it was not that. As Villiers turned to leave, she said quietly, ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
    She found the rear-admiral, sleeves rolled up and hisjacket hanging over the back of his chair, grasping a clip of signals in both hands with fierce concentration. He looked up, surprised that he had not heard her knock. ‘Ah, Jean – I was just going to call you. I still don’t believe it.’
    â€˜What is it, sir?’
    â€˜They want me back in Scotland! A whole new training schedule for Underwater Weapons is being fixed. The First Sea Lord has asked me himself.’
    â€˜I’m very glad for you, sir.’ She was surprised that she felt it so badly. Just a few weeks since he had arrived in the newly-decorated office, hurt, baffled and lost. Now he was leaving. She repeated, ‘I am
so
glad. A lot of others will be, too.’
    He rubbed his chin. ‘Fact is, it will mean a lot more work, new weapons, fresh trials to find the people to fit them.’ He looked at her keenly. ‘I’ll need an assistant, you know, a sort of flag lieutenant.’ He stood up, as he had that day when she had broken down in this same office. ‘Will you come to Scotland with