The steward withdrew.
“Visitors?”
The thought of shaking more hands, or facing either friendship or hostility, was more than Drummond could bear.
“Didn’t I tell you?” Beaumont tugged his jacket into place, “Miles Salter and his lot are here, too. Flew up from U. K. to oil the wheels, so to speak.”
He tried to see where it was all leading. “Anyone else I know?”
“Miles’s pet worry, Sarah Kemp. She should be very decorative. The Icelandic girls have been told to stay away from Jolly Jack. They’re not too keen on us locally.”
“Won’t all this fuss draw attention to what we’re doing?” But he was seeing her face as he asked. One of the image makers.
“They’re used to the information and propaganda people here. The admiral seems quite taken with the idea. ” Beaumont frowned. “But I agree we must be careful. Too much at stake to risk anything. This operation must be perfect.”
Feet moved overhead, and Drummond heard the O.O.D. hurrying to the gangway to greet the visitors.
Beaumont turned to face the door, arranging himself. Like an actor waiting for the curtain to go up.
Miles Salter came in first. He was as crumpled as ever, but seemed in good spirits.
He shook hands with Beaumont and smiled to Drummond, remarking, “So you’re still with us, Commander. That’s the ticket.”
There were two other men in suits which looked as if they had been slept in, one of whom carried a large and very expensive camera.
Sarah Kemp walked across the cabin, smiled at Beaumont and then stopped directly in front of Drummond. She thrust out her hand, her eyes never leaving his face.
“Hello, yourself.” She did not smile. “I’m glad you’re as. right.” She tightened her grip. “Really.”
He said, “You’ve heard all about it.”
“I’m sorry. It sounded like bragging, I expect.” “No. It’s just that I’m not used to it.”
She sat down beside his chair, crossing her legs and smoothing her skirt in two quick movements.
“Well, talking about events is easier than enacting them.”
She watched him gravely. “Have they been giving you a hard time?”
“Just the usual.” He forced a smile. “I heard you were in Falmouth.”
She touched her lower lip with the tip of her tongue. “You make it sound worse than it was.”
“I’m sorry.” He looked away. “None of my business anyway.”
“When you say it like that, it means you think it is yourbusiness.”
Beaumont called brightly, “How about a drink?”
She laughed. “I thought you’d never ask. Honestly, this country!” She looked at the others. “Nothing to drink, the streets full of potty-looking men and beautiful girls, it’s not fair!”
The stewards were moving in, the petty officer watching the girl’s knees as he deftly arranged the glasses.
Drummond took out his spare pipe. He did not feel like a smoke or a drink, but it would give him time. He watched her as she threw quick remarks amongst the others. She had their attention most of the time, and knew it. And yet it was more like a game, he decided. An act to hide something else. He thought of Sheridan holding her. Feeling her lithe body. Enjoying her, and she him.
“Drink, sir?” The steward watched him.
“Horse’s neck, please.”
She swung round. “You should be in the cavalry!”
More people arrived, including some senior officers from the Area Combined H.Q., Navy and R.A.F. The admiral, it seemed, could not come, but would see them later. It was getting very noisy and jolly, and he could see her being hedged away from him, swallowed up by dark and pale blue uniforms.
Beaumont’s voice seemed to carry above all the rest. Like a trumpet. “So I said to this bloody woman in Oxford Street, how much for the night? And she had the damn nerve to reply, five quid! I mean, I know things have gone up in wartime!”
A tall group captain asked, “What did you say?”
“I told her, by God. ” He grinned. “I want to hire the bloody thing, not buy it!”
Drummond turned and found she was beside him again. “He really is a card, don’t you think?” She grimaced and rolled her eyes. “A man’s man from the socks up!”
“I gather you were talking about the Conqueror with my number one?”
She studied him curiously. “You come out with it, don’t you? No messing about.” But she did not make a joke of it. “Yes, I was. I was trying to find out about my brother. Things like that.”
“I heard something of the sort.”
“You heard what you wanted to hear. ” She moved closer and dropped her voice. “And most of it was wrong, I’ll bet.” He had to lower his head — to hear above the din of voices and clattering glasses. He could smell her hair. Her skin.
She said, “I didn’t go to bed with him, by the way.” She looked him straight in the eyes. “There, how’s that for directness? Your move.”
He said, “I never thought-“
“Oh, come on!” She was smiling again, showing her perfect teeth. “Now who’s kidding who? It’s written all over your face! I’ll not say it wasn’t a battle at one time, but I’m stronger than I look. I have to be!”
He tried to appear calm. “I was wondering … ‘
“There you go again!” She touched his sleeve. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me. And the answer’s yes. ” She smiled at his confusion. “When you’re free, give me a call. I’m at that special hotel for women, a cross between a convent and a prison. Like Worthing on a wet September Sunday!”
Salter was calling her name, waiting, his face already flushed with drink, to introduce her to the latest arrivals.
She said, “I’d like to talk. Soon.”
He replied, “Yes. I’ll see what I can arrange.” He smiled. “And thanks.”
“You should smile more often, Commander.” She stood back and eyed him critically. “It makes you almost human.”
She was swallowed up in the crush, and her slight figure was replaced instantly by a grave-faced captain, who introduced himself as being on the staff at A. C. H. Q. On a temporary basis. Neither he nor Drummond mentioned it, but he was quite obviously Nick Brooks’s man in Iceland. Until the raid was mounted. Or dropped.
He sipped a large pink gin and said, “Fine-looking girl. Married, eh?”
“Yes.” Funny that it did not seem to matter. Until now. “I don’t know her very well.”
The captain signalled to a steward. “Someone was saying that her brother was in the same ship as Beaumont. Don’t know the truth of it.”
Drummond watched him and smiled grimly. Not much, you don’t. Aloud he said, “I heard something like that, too, sir.”
The captain saw another face across the crammed cabin. “I must be off. I’ll see you atA.C.H.Q. quite soon.” His gaze was very firm. “It’s on, by the way. Thought you should know, in view of what you’ve just gone through.”
“Thank you, sir. ” For what? For the chance of being blown to pieces? “I’ll keep it to myself.”
“I should hope so. ” He smiled shortly. “I expect Duvall will get a medal. Looks good. ” His gaze seemed to shift momentarily towards Beaumont. “Don’t care much for heroes of that sort.”
Drummond waited. Who did he mean, Duvall or Beaumont? Both?
The captain added, “Nelson had the right definition, I think. He said a hero was a man who inspired bravery in others. Not one who went out for his own glory.” He sighed. “But the Admiralty of the day didn’t like him much either. Must be a moral in it all somewhere! ” He pushed his way into the throng.
“All right, Keith?” Beaumont appeared beside him.
“I think I ought to get back to the ship, sir.”