Bloody farce. Betrayed by the Yanks. And after all we’ve done for them.’
‘Jolly good, I’d say.’
He looked at her in surprise and some amusement. ‘Jolly good what?’
‘The withdrawal.’
‘You think so?’
‘I think Suez was a terrible mistake. And Eden a fool.’
‘Good God, you’d better not say that kind of thing here. They’ll keelhaul you.’
‘Don’t you agree?’
‘I’m a soldier. It’s not my job to think.’ He smiled and looked away to the horizon and the smudge of land that was, so he told them, La Coruña. ‘“The burial of Sir John Moore”, you know? He played a big part in the history of our regiment. “Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note/As his corpse to the rampart we hurried.”’
‘Actually it’s “corse”.’
‘What?’
‘Corse, not corpse. Sort of poetic. Means the same thing.’
‘Is that so? Gosh, I bet
you
don’t saucer your tea. Where did you learn that?’
She made a face, an expression of regret. ‘I was at college for a while, studying English. Then I left to join the ATS and wasted two years, really. After the war all the places at college were taken up by men who had just been demobbed and there didn’t seem any room for me.’ It was sunny now. The sea had had the grey brushed out of it, to be replaced with a blue that you never saw in Britain. The waves seemed teasing rather than threatening. ‘And anyway I met my husband. He sort of swept me away from all that …’
Beneath the sun the British had undergone a metamorphosis, like imagos easing their way out of the grey chrysalis of life at home. There was colour, there was laughter, there was a subtleshedding of old clothes in favour of new – tropical drill for khaki battledress; white cotton for brown wool. Pallid flesh took on shades of pink and tan. They indulged in novel games – quoits and deck hockey, and a shooting competition off the stern of the ship with balloons as targets. Dee partnered Braudel in a deck-tennis mixed-doubles competition while Paula laughed and shrieked from the sidelines. They got through to the final before being beaten by Binty and Douglas, who took the whole thing very seriously and became quite cross when Braudel and Dee laughed at their own mistakes. ‘There’s no point in playing if you don’t take it seriously,’ was what Binty said. But away from competition she was very sweet and had become quite a friend. ‘I can see that fellow’s got quite a pash on you,’ she remarked as they went to shower and change. ‘Edward would be jealous.’
‘Well, he’s no reason to be.’
‘Of course not, my dear. Everyone knows that shipboard romances are just a game. And he
is
a bit of a dish.’
Did that mean that Binty gave her seal of approval to their mild flirtation? She and Douglas had promised Edward that they would look after Dee during the voyage. Did that, Dee wondered, extend to guarding her marital virtue?
That evening at dinner they played a ridiculous game of Damien’s invention. It was called anagrams. The object was to compose phrases out of the letters of each other’s names. He won comprehensively. ‘I’m rude and able’, he made out of his own name, and ‘hidden dreamer’ from Dee’s. ‘Are you?’ he asked.
‘No,’ she replied tartly.
The ship’s orchestra played songs from
My Fair Lady
, and she and Braudel danced together on the small apron of parquet that was the dance floor. It wasn’t milk and brandy in her glass now, but gin and it, a mixture that Damien persuaded her was rather superior to gin and tonic. ‘It’s stronger,’ she said, sipping it warily.
‘That’s why it’s superior.’ He had this mocking tone which amused her, as though he found everything faintly ridiculous – the ship, the reason for his journey, Dee herself. He was a soldier because he enjoyed soldiering, he told her. Nothing better. Certainly not working in some bloody office for a few pounds a year more than he was getting now.
‘Jolly good, I’d say.’
He looked at her in surprise and some amusement. ‘Jolly good what?’
‘The withdrawal.’
‘You think so?’
‘I think Suez was a terrible mistake. And Eden a fool.’
‘Good God, you’d better not say that kind of thing here. They’ll keelhaul you.’
‘Don’t you agree?’
‘I’m a soldier. It’s not my job to think.’ He smiled and looked away to the horizon and the smudge of land that was, so he told them, La Coruña. ‘“The burial of Sir John Moore”, you know? He played a big part in the history of our regiment. “Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note/As his corpse to the rampart we hurried.”’
‘Actually it’s “corse”.’
‘What?’
‘Corse, not corpse. Sort of poetic. Means the same thing.’
‘Is that so? Gosh, I bet
you
don’t saucer your tea. Where did you learn that?’
She made a face, an expression of regret. ‘I was at college for a while, studying English. Then I left to join the ATS and wasted two years, really. After the war all the places at college were taken up by men who had just been demobbed and there didn’t seem any room for me.’ It was sunny now. The sea had had the grey brushed out of it, to be replaced with a blue that you never saw in Britain. The waves seemed teasing rather than threatening. ‘And anyway I met my husband. He sort of swept me away from all that …’
Beneath the sun the British had undergone a metamorphosis, like imagos easing their way out of the grey chrysalis of life at home. There was colour, there was laughter, there was a subtleshedding of old clothes in favour of new – tropical drill for khaki battledress; white cotton for brown wool. Pallid flesh took on shades of pink and tan. They indulged in novel games – quoits and deck hockey, and a shooting competition off the stern of the ship with balloons as targets. Dee partnered Braudel in a deck-tennis mixed-doubles competition while Paula laughed and shrieked from the sidelines. They got through to the final before being beaten by Binty and Douglas, who took the whole thing very seriously and became quite cross when Braudel and Dee laughed at their own mistakes. ‘There’s no point in playing if you don’t take it seriously,’ was what Binty said. But away from competition she was very sweet and had become quite a friend. ‘I can see that fellow’s got quite a pash on you,’ she remarked as they went to shower and change. ‘Edward would be jealous.’
‘Well, he’s no reason to be.’
‘Of course not, my dear. Everyone knows that shipboard romances are just a game. And he
is
a bit of a dish.’
Did that mean that Binty gave her seal of approval to their mild flirtation? She and Douglas had promised Edward that they would look after Dee during the voyage. Did that, Dee wondered, extend to guarding her marital virtue?
That evening at dinner they played a ridiculous game of Damien’s invention. It was called anagrams. The object was to compose phrases out of the letters of each other’s names. He won comprehensively. ‘I’m rude and able’, he made out of his own name, and ‘hidden dreamer’ from Dee’s. ‘Are you?’ he asked.
‘No,’ she replied tartly.
The ship’s orchestra played songs from
My Fair Lady
, and she and Braudel danced together on the small apron of parquet that was the dance floor. It wasn’t milk and brandy in her glass now, but gin and it, a mixture that Damien persuaded her was rather superior to gin and tonic. ‘It’s stronger,’ she said, sipping it warily.
‘That’s why it’s superior.’ He had this mocking tone which amused her, as though he found everything faintly ridiculous – the ship, the reason for his journey, Dee herself. He was a soldier because he enjoyed soldiering, he told her. Nothing better. Certainly not working in some bloody office for a few pounds a year more than he was getting now.
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