Kimber shrugged. “No. It is being given a priority rating.”
He looked meaningly at the clock on the wall. “I expect you’ve a good deal to do. Tell your people as little as you can. They will resent it now. Later they may realise that security can save lives.”
They all stood up, shuffling their feet. Each man concerned with his own ship, her role, the odds of survival. For those moments they were all strangers, Drummond thought.
Lieutenant-Commander Mark Kydd, the Whirlpool’s captain, touched his arm and grinned. “Well done. Don’t mind the others. You deserve it. And by God, we’re going to need you before this little lot’s in the history books!”
“We’ll need each other.” Drummond looked away. “But thanks.”
For some reason he kept thinking of Frank. All those miles away in hospital. No legs. Helen visiting him daily. Watching him withdraw from her and the world as they had once known it. Why him?
Kydd asked, “Are you all right?”
He tried to smile. “Yes. A bit bushed, that’s all. But I’m glad something’s been decided.”
He tried to imagine what it would be like. The coast. The land reaching out for the elderly destroyers.
Kydd picked up his cap as Beaumont walked towards them. “Yes. God has spoken.” He strode after the others.
Beaumont smiled. “Sorry about the little drama, Keith. That bloody man Selkirk really gets up my nose. Had to cut him down to size. These reservists … ” He glanced at Kimber. “Sounds a bit slow, but Aubrey Kimber is no slouch. He’ll be taking flag-rank before this year’s out. ” He was thinking aloud. “Nick Brooks can pick all the winners. ” He turned and said suddenly, “No need to mention all this to Mrs. Kemp if she corners you. You know what women are. She might say something indiscreet. Miles will fill her in on details later.”
“When it’s all over?”
Beaumont regarded him thoughtfully. “Something like that.”
“I don’t really understand what Miles Salter is doing here, or anywhere else for that matter.”
“You don’t?” Beaumont seemed to find it ‘amusing. “His ministry is keen on putting events in perspective. Boosting morale. That kind of thing. He used to be a magazine editor before the war. He’s brighter than he looks. ” He winked. “Not difficult, eh?”
The man in question slouched across the room and said, “I’ve fixed up for the pictures. John will have his camera set up as you go on board your boat.”
Beaumont winced. “Boat indeed!”
“Well anyway …” Salter looked at Drummond. “I’ve arranged for a tailor to see you about some uniforms. Must get the new rank made up, if you’re to look right. ” He moved away, his face frowning.
“What …” Drummond fell silent as Beaumont raised one pale hand.
He said, “Just take it as it comes, Keith. You are now my second-in-command. I could have had anyone. Nick Brooks said so. What he says goes. I wanted a chap who could think before all else. Not a Cromwell who wants to be popular all the time or a bloody moaner like Selkirk. Between ourselves, I was going to have Duvall shifted to another billet. We didn’t get on. Death or glory. ” He winked again. “I have no objection to the latter, but I’ve been too close to my Maker for wishing to make his acquaintance just yet!”
Kimber called, “Are you finished here, Dudley?” He looked at the clock. “The admiral is expecting us for drinks before dinner.” He nodded to Drummond. “I’ll have a chat with you later.” He smiled. “Commander.”
Drummond left the building and walked towards the gates. He paused at the guard hut and asked permission to use a telephone to call the ship. It was a bad line to the harbour and he had to wait for nearly ten minutes before he managed to get an answer. Then Sheridan came to the phone almost immediately. As if he had been waiting for a call.
Drummond said, “If there’s nothing urgent for me I’ll be ashore for a while.” Faint voices hummed on the line, and he had a mental picture of several German agents tapping the conversation. “All right?”
“Yes, sir. All quiet here.” He hesitated. “Is it true, sir? About the promotion?”
News moved very swiftly. “Yes.”
“Congratulations, sir.” He seemed to be searching for words. “It must be quite a feeling.”
Drummond saw a jeep preparing to leave the base and wondered if he could cadge a lift.
He said, “Tell Able Seaman Jevers I want to see him sometime tomorrow.
“Jevers?” Sheridan sounded puzzled. “Is something wrong?”
“Tell you later.”
He dropped the telephone, and with a brief nod to the duty officer, ran out to the jeep.
A R.A.F. officer grinned at him. “All aboard for the gay lights of Reykjavik! Whalemeat and chips!”
The jeep roared from the base camp, red lava dust spewing from its wheels, while the crowded occupants clung to whatever they could to avoid being hurled on to the track.
Drummond was thinking of Sheridan’s remark. It must be quite a feeling. Strange. He felt nothing but a sense of foreboding.
They sat opposite each other across a small square table. The restaurant in the commandeered hotel was gaunt and unwelcoming, and the solitary waitress, who was dressed in an ill-fitting white smock, completed the picture of dingy, temporary occupation.
She said quietly, “Sorry about this place. ” She was watching him gravely. “It’s not exactly the Savoy.”
Her chance remark brought it all back. The staff officers in the Savoy grill, his own thoughts at the time. Wishing she had been with him instead of Beaumont and the others. The old waiter whose son had died in Warlock.
He smiled. “It will have to do.”
She was simply dressed in a green costume, and against the dull walls and dreary room her face seemed to shine like one in a partly cleaned painting.
She said, “You are staring again.”
The waitress paused by the table. “Will you want any coffee?”
Drummond nodded and she went away muttering.
The girl whispered, “Nice to be so welcome!” She leaned.forward slightly. “Miles Salter came by. Told me about your promotion. I’m glad.” She thrust out a little package. “A present for you.”
He stared at her. “Because of my promotion?”
She laughed, the sound making two elderly nurses on the other side of the room stare at them with obvious disapproval.
“You are the giddy limit!” Impetuously she reached out and gripped his hand. “It’s your birthday, isn’t it?”
He replied, “I’d forgotten.” He smiled at her, feeling her smooth fingers on his skin. “Thanks very much.”
She shook her head, the short chestnut hair bouncing across her forehead. “I was hard put to find out about it. Might have guessed you’d forget.”
Drummond felt her hand move away as she said, “I hope it’s the sort you like, if not …”
He opened the parcel and turned the brand new pipe over in his hands.
“You must be a mind-reader, too. ” He looked at her again. “It was very good of you.”
She relaxed. “I’m glad it suits. Had one helluva job getting it. Don’t smoke a pipe myself.” She wrinkled her nose. “Sorry you had to eat here. I just thought you’d like to get away from all those uniforms for a bit.”
“I’m enjoying myself very much. ” He took her hand across the table. “Believe me.”
She did not take her hand away. “Good. How was it today? With Dudley Beaumont? Miles seemed to think you were feeling a bit fed up.”
“It was nothing much. Just a feeling. ” He looked at the new pipe. It must have cost quite a bit and no little trouble to get. “I had an idea that some of the other skippers were blaming me for Duvall’s death.”
“Well, they would, wouldn’t they?” She met his astonishment calmly. “I should think that is exactly what Beaumont intended.”