Harry’s head, his eyes focusing on the street outside as if he had an appointment.
‘Tell you what,’ he said, looking at a watch with a black leather strap on it, ‘I’ve got to go now, but I’ll be back here at five and you could come out with us
then. Why don’t you do that? Why don’t you? Otherwise it’ll cost you five bob.’ He drank the rest of his beer, looking at Harry with blue, candid eyes.
‘Can I get you something else before you go?’ said Harry. ‘Another pint.’
‘Well, I really haven’t got time. There’s someone out there. But I’ll be here at five o’clock.’
‘You’ll have time for a whisky,’ Harry insisted. Without waiting for an answer, he went over to the bar. ‘A whisky for my friend,’ he told the barman.
‘He’s in a hurry. He’s got an appointment. He’s got to get ready for Prince Philip.’
‘Right, Harry.’ The barman poured out the whisky quickly, and Harry took it over to the table. The rating drank it quickly. ‘This is good of you,’ he said.
‘Think nothing of it,’ said Harry, nursing his beer. ‘I shall expect you then at five.’
‘Yes, that will be all right. I’ve got some shopping to do. What’s your name by the way?’
‘Harry Millar. Everyone in town knows me. Used to have a big business here. I’ve done a lot of trade with them in the past.’
‘Yes. No point in you paying five shillings really.’ He rushed out as if he had seen someone whom he wanted to meet.
The barman came over.
‘What are you up to now, Harry?’
‘It was the commodore’s chauffeur,’ said Harry. ‘I’m going out with him in the ship’s boat at five o’clock. He said I’d have a grandstand view
when they switch on the lights.’
‘Good for you, Harry. I heard people were being taken out. Nice-looking fellow.’
‘Yes, we Navy boys are like that,’ said Harry. He sipped his beer, thinking that he had about eight shillings left.
When he left the pub at three o’clock, he decided he’d go up to the house and leave a note for Sarah, telling her that he might be late. It was a strange experience. He hadn’t
been out past nine o’clock at night for ages, and he knew that he might be a bit later than that coming back. He felt rather frightened informing her of this in cold print, but a lot depended
on what mood she was in. It reminded him of the old days when he used to go out for a Saturday night drink with the boys.
He sat down at the table and wrote: ‘I have been given an invitation to go out to see the Fleet. The son of an old friend. He’s a sub-lieutenant.’ He signed it
‘Henry’ instead of ‘Harry’. The room seemed to get on his nerves when he was in it alone; its emptiness appeared menacing and dull. It was the absence of Sarah’s
nagging that did it; by God, she was a missile for the Fleet all right! He put the note in an envelope and placed it on the mantelpiece so that she would see it immediately she came in.
As he was descending the stair he met his next-door neighbour who was mowing the lawn.
‘Off again, Harry?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid so. I have been suddenly invited out, to see the Fleet. An old family friend. He’s a lieutenant in the Navy.’
The man looked at him seriously through thick glasses, grunted, then bent down to do something to a rose.
Harry limped on to the level and returned to the shore. He sat in a shelter looking out at the brilliant sea, watching the ships which he would soon see close to.
A fat woman sat at the far end of the shelter. She said,
‘It’s a grand sight, isn’t it?’
‘A grand sight,’ Harry agreed, and then added, ‘I know one of the lieutenants on board.’
‘My son’s a priest, you know,’ she said, ‘across the water.’
He didn’t know at first whether she meant that her son was aboard or in a parish on the other side of the firth. She continued,
‘But we Scots have a soft spot for the Navy, don’t we?’ She seemed to have a compulsion to
‘Tell you what,’ he said, looking at a watch with a black leather strap on it, ‘I’ve got to go now, but I’ll be back here at five and you could come out with us
then. Why don’t you do that? Why don’t you? Otherwise it’ll cost you five bob.’ He drank the rest of his beer, looking at Harry with blue, candid eyes.
‘Can I get you something else before you go?’ said Harry. ‘Another pint.’
‘Well, I really haven’t got time. There’s someone out there. But I’ll be here at five o’clock.’
‘You’ll have time for a whisky,’ Harry insisted. Without waiting for an answer, he went over to the bar. ‘A whisky for my friend,’ he told the barman.
‘He’s in a hurry. He’s got an appointment. He’s got to get ready for Prince Philip.’
‘Right, Harry.’ The barman poured out the whisky quickly, and Harry took it over to the table. The rating drank it quickly. ‘This is good of you,’ he said.
‘Think nothing of it,’ said Harry, nursing his beer. ‘I shall expect you then at five.’
‘Yes, that will be all right. I’ve got some shopping to do. What’s your name by the way?’
‘Harry Millar. Everyone in town knows me. Used to have a big business here. I’ve done a lot of trade with them in the past.’
‘Yes. No point in you paying five shillings really.’ He rushed out as if he had seen someone whom he wanted to meet.
The barman came over.
‘What are you up to now, Harry?’
‘It was the commodore’s chauffeur,’ said Harry. ‘I’m going out with him in the ship’s boat at five o’clock. He said I’d have a grandstand view
when they switch on the lights.’
‘Good for you, Harry. I heard people were being taken out. Nice-looking fellow.’
‘Yes, we Navy boys are like that,’ said Harry. He sipped his beer, thinking that he had about eight shillings left.
When he left the pub at three o’clock, he decided he’d go up to the house and leave a note for Sarah, telling her that he might be late. It was a strange experience. He hadn’t
been out past nine o’clock at night for ages, and he knew that he might be a bit later than that coming back. He felt rather frightened informing her of this in cold print, but a lot depended
on what mood she was in. It reminded him of the old days when he used to go out for a Saturday night drink with the boys.
He sat down at the table and wrote: ‘I have been given an invitation to go out to see the Fleet. The son of an old friend. He’s a sub-lieutenant.’ He signed it
‘Henry’ instead of ‘Harry’. The room seemed to get on his nerves when he was in it alone; its emptiness appeared menacing and dull. It was the absence of Sarah’s
nagging that did it; by God, she was a missile for the Fleet all right! He put the note in an envelope and placed it on the mantelpiece so that she would see it immediately she came in.
As he was descending the stair he met his next-door neighbour who was mowing the lawn.
‘Off again, Harry?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid so. I have been suddenly invited out, to see the Fleet. An old family friend. He’s a lieutenant in the Navy.’
The man looked at him seriously through thick glasses, grunted, then bent down to do something to a rose.
Harry limped on to the level and returned to the shore. He sat in a shelter looking out at the brilliant sea, watching the ships which he would soon see close to.
A fat woman sat at the far end of the shelter. She said,
‘It’s a grand sight, isn’t it?’
‘A grand sight,’ Harry agreed, and then added, ‘I know one of the lieutenants on board.’
‘My son’s a priest, you know,’ she said, ‘across the water.’
He didn’t know at first whether she meant that her son was aboard or in a parish on the other side of the firth. She continued,
‘But we Scots have a soft spot for the Navy, don’t we?’ She seemed to have a compulsion to
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