remembering her looking up at him as he had undressed her.
What was she thinking of? He tried to contain it, as he would aboard ship when some stupid seaman had made a mistake. Did she think it could do anything but harm to behave like this? He touched a curtain which was pulled aside. Untidy. Again, out of character, or was it deliberate?
Theil went slowly downstairs and then saw some letters neatly piled on a hall-table where she kept her gloves.
He recognised the official stamps, his own writing. Unopened. She had not even read them.
He looked fixedly at his case by the front door. Abandoned, as if someone else had just arrived, or was about to leave.
What the hell had she done? There was no point in calling the police or the hospital. He would have been told long ago. An army truck rolled past, some soldiers singing and swaying about on the rutted road. How sad their song sounded.
He thrust the letters into his pocket and after a momentary hesitation picked up the heavy case once more.
He would ask the neighbours; they were decent people and had always liked Britta.
But he hesitated in the doorway and looked back at the silence. He thought of the future, the ship lying there waiting for him, for all of them, and was both apprehensive and bitter.
He needed her, just as she had once needed him, and she was gone.
Theil slammed the door and locked it and walked down the drive and then round to the next house.
Once he glanced over at his own home and pictured her in a window, laughing and w'aving. It had all been a joke, and now she wanted him.
The doorbell echoed into the far distance and he waited, knowing somehow that nobody would answer. But as he walked down to the road again he felt someone was watching him.
What should he do? He thought of his friend the doctor and walked all the way to his house, ignoring the weight of his case, his mind snapping at explanations like an angry dog.
The doctor was pleased to see him, although he had to leave for an urgent visit almost immediately.
He listened to Theil's story impassively and then said, 'I think you must face up to it, Viktor. She has left you.' He raised one hand as Theil made to protest. 'She will be in touch, be certain of that, but she has to sort things out in her own way, d'you see? Women are like that. All these years, and they still surprise me!'
Theil made to leave. Britta had some other relatives somewhere. He would check through his address book. He looked at the heavy case. 'You take it, Doctor. For old time's sake, eh?'
The doctor opened it and gazed at the array of food.
Thank you, Viktor. Some of my patients -'
Theil nodded and tried to grin. 'Of course.'
Outside, the shadows of evening were already making purple patterns on the road. Theil did not look towards his house. If he went back now he knew' he would go crazy.
She had left him, had not given him a chance to make things right. He compensated by telling himself that she had no warning of his coming.
But all this time? Another man? He hastened towards the main road and did not even see two saluting soldiers as they went past. Never, not Britta. No matter what. Then back to Denmark? He looked at his watch. What should he do?
He felt his fingers touch the black cross on his jacket; like his other decorations it had always given him pride and confidence. For a few moments longer he stared unseeingly around him, hurt and then angry when he thought of what might have been, could have been. Because of Britta's anguish over her parents his own advancement and career had been scarred for all time. He had lost the Prinz because of it, because of her.
When she did come back, pleading for understanding, what would he do?
Theil turned towards the railway station. There was nowhere else he wanted to go now.
To some members of Prinz Luitpold's ship's company the seven days' leave were as varied as the men themselves. To many of the lucky ones it was a lifeline, something precious and yet
What was she thinking of? He tried to contain it, as he would aboard ship when some stupid seaman had made a mistake. Did she think it could do anything but harm to behave like this? He touched a curtain which was pulled aside. Untidy. Again, out of character, or was it deliberate?
Theil went slowly downstairs and then saw some letters neatly piled on a hall-table where she kept her gloves.
He recognised the official stamps, his own writing. Unopened. She had not even read them.
He looked fixedly at his case by the front door. Abandoned, as if someone else had just arrived, or was about to leave.
What the hell had she done? There was no point in calling the police or the hospital. He would have been told long ago. An army truck rolled past, some soldiers singing and swaying about on the rutted road. How sad their song sounded.
He thrust the letters into his pocket and after a momentary hesitation picked up the heavy case once more.
He would ask the neighbours; they were decent people and had always liked Britta.
But he hesitated in the doorway and looked back at the silence. He thought of the future, the ship lying there waiting for him, for all of them, and was both apprehensive and bitter.
He needed her, just as she had once needed him, and she was gone.
Theil slammed the door and locked it and walked down the drive and then round to the next house.
Once he glanced over at his own home and pictured her in a window, laughing and w'aving. It had all been a joke, and now she wanted him.
The doorbell echoed into the far distance and he waited, knowing somehow that nobody would answer. But as he walked down to the road again he felt someone was watching him.
What should he do? He thought of his friend the doctor and walked all the way to his house, ignoring the weight of his case, his mind snapping at explanations like an angry dog.
The doctor was pleased to see him, although he had to leave for an urgent visit almost immediately.
He listened to Theil's story impassively and then said, 'I think you must face up to it, Viktor. She has left you.' He raised one hand as Theil made to protest. 'She will be in touch, be certain of that, but she has to sort things out in her own way, d'you see? Women are like that. All these years, and they still surprise me!'
Theil made to leave. Britta had some other relatives somewhere. He would check through his address book. He looked at the heavy case. 'You take it, Doctor. For old time's sake, eh?'
The doctor opened it and gazed at the array of food.
Thank you, Viktor. Some of my patients -'
Theil nodded and tried to grin. 'Of course.'
Outside, the shadows of evening were already making purple patterns on the road. Theil did not look towards his house. If he went back now he knew' he would go crazy.
She had left him, had not given him a chance to make things right. He compensated by telling himself that she had no warning of his coming.
But all this time? Another man? He hastened towards the main road and did not even see two saluting soldiers as they went past. Never, not Britta. No matter what. Then back to Denmark? He looked at his watch. What should he do?
He felt his fingers touch the black cross on his jacket; like his other decorations it had always given him pride and confidence. For a few moments longer he stared unseeingly around him, hurt and then angry when he thought of what might have been, could have been. Because of Britta's anguish over her parents his own advancement and career had been scarred for all time. He had lost the Prinz because of it, because of her.
When she did come back, pleading for understanding, what would he do?
Theil turned towards the railway station. There was nowhere else he wanted to go now.
To some members of Prinz Luitpold's ship's company the seven days' leave were as varied as the men themselves. To many of the lucky ones it was a lifeline, something precious and yet
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