Sunset (25 page)

A thin attendant in singlet and shorts, smoking a cigarette while he plaited some ribbons with delicate skill, merely glanced at him and offered a casual nod. He watched with momentary interest as Brooke took several sticks and dropped some coins in the collecting-box, and then carried on with his work. If he was at all curious at Brooke's presence he did not show it.

Brooke was crossing to the opposite side when he almost collided with a tiny woman who was about to kneel. In the flickering light she looked ancient, like some historic carving.

He smiled an apology and on impulse offered his arm as support while she lowered herself on to the cushion. Her hand on his white cuff was like a claw, but it had a grip of steel.

She muttered something and peered up at him impassively.

‘Good. Good.'

Brooke sat on one of the old chairs and watched the smoke from his joss-sticks drifting up towards the lanterns. He could imagine her at his side, her dark eyes teasing him, or becoming so suddenly grave.

He thought of his visit to the flagship. It had haunted him along every street and through each narrow market. His brother had once said that to survive you must keep your yardarm clear and your mouth shut. That was
then
. A far cry from the ambitious officer he had become.

If he came back to Hong Kong, would she want him again? Or had it all been in his mind alone?

There were rumours that
Serpent
would be ordered home, so
short was the fleet of convoy escorts with the toll in the Atlantic mounting daily.

To think of not seeing her again made him desperate. It was madness, but that only made it worse. She was beautiful, and her father was obviously very rich as well as powerful.
What do I have to offer, even if she considered it?
In any case, her father would want a son-in-law with prospects, someone known and respected here.

After
Serpent
, what then? His mind turned away from the possibility of losing the old destroyer, despite what the urbane Captain Granville had suggested about his future. After the war? It was like thinking of another world.

Like hundreds, thousands in that other war to end all wars, he would most likely be thrown out again. On the beach. Nothing changed. Even in Nelson's time they had gone through it.
God and the Navy we adore, When danger threatens but not before
. Perhaps when it was finally over he might not want to remain in the service: an idea he would once have never even considered. He lit the last joss-stick from a nearby candle and gave a rueful smile. He was behaving like a schoolboy.

Suppose the worst did happen? That, because of provocation or some military misunderstanding, the Japanese decided to invade the New Territories, and eventually Hong Kong island? He recalled what Jeremy had said, his scornful dismissal of the defence forces. The Japanese were battle-hardened troops and had been fighting the Chinese Nationalists continuously for four years. Brooke had seen quite a lot of the British and Commonwealth soldiers they had helped to escort in
Operation Boomerang
. Most of them were as green as grass, untried in anything but basic training and square-bashing.

He thrust out his leg as if he expected to see the blood on it. There were plenty of rumours and half-truths about what had happened on the mainland. It was still going on. Close on the heels of their advancing troops had come a regime of terror. Rape, torture, mass executions by firing squad and beheading: the invaders intended to break the Chinese once and for all. If they did invade . . .

It was not the warfare he understood. At sea you survived or
you died.
Bought it
, as the new slang described it. He was aware of the new optimism in the newspapers here. The fact that another island, Malta, had survived constant air attacks from bases just a few miles away, and had taken all that the Italians and the Luftwaffe could throw at it, seemed to have given people heart.

Jeremy had spoken of the handful of planes which were kept at Kai Tak aerodrome on the Kowloon side. At least at Malta they had the support of the Mediterranean Fleet, hard-pressed though it was.

He shook his head. There was no comparison.

Most of the warships were moving to Singapore, the real fortress to all accounts. If the Japanese, on whatever pretext, attacked Hong Kong there seemed little chance of holding out.

He got up and walked to one of the great sand-filled pots and carefully planted his two remaining sticks, his mind suddenly empty.

‘
Just so
. I knew this was where you would be.'

He swung round, half believing that he had imagined it.

She was dressed in pale green although in the dim light it could have been almost any colour. Her hair was loose, as it had been the day she had held him in the car, her eyes catching the glow from the lanterns by the gods Man and Mo.

She held out her hand. ‘You should have called me.
Told
me.'

He grasped her hand and held it. ‘I had no right.'

She did not reply directly but seemed to be studying her hand in his. ‘You make trouble for yourself, yes? The sub-mar-ine, all the danger you were in? You have every right.'

Brooke smiled. ‘So much for secrecy, Lian.'

He felt her fingers relax, perhaps because he had used her name. ‘One of your father's ships, too.'

She turned partly away from him and then slipped her hand through his arm.

‘News runs fast here, Es-mond. I am afraid that you get hurt again.'

He squeezed her hand inside his arm. ‘Oh, I'm all right. One hand for the King, the other for yourself – that's what I was taught!'

She looked directly at him but did not respond. ‘It is not a joke. Always men make joke when I know it is serious!'

‘I'm very sorry, Lian. And I
do
care what you think, how you feel.'

She said quietly, ‘You believe I play cat-mouse with you because of your brother, that is true, yes?'

He had never seen her so concerned, so emotional, and he wanted to put his arms round her. The watchful amah Nina Poon was probably lurking nearby, waiting for him to do just that.

He replied, ‘I would not blame you.'

She said, ‘I will not let anybody hurt you again!'

She calmed herself slowly and allowed him to take her to the entrance.

To herself she murmured, ‘I knew you would come here.' Then she looked at him searchingly. ‘
Our
place now, yes?'

He nodded. There were no words.

She said firmly, ‘I have only one rival now.'

‘Rival?'

She smiled at him, the happiness breaking through like a young child.

‘Your ship!'

Headlights dipped across the road and the great car murmured discreetly towards them.

She said, ‘I take you to rival now, Es-mond!'

Brooke saw the faithful old amah peering past the chauffeur, as if to seek out some injury or insult.

Once in the car the girl lowered the armrest between them but kept one hand close to his.

‘There is important reception on Tuesday at Repulse Bay Hotel.'

‘I know about that.'

She turned sharply. ‘Who asked you to go?'

‘Ask
me?
' He grinned and took her hand without realising what he was doing. ‘That'll be the day!'

‘You joke again!' She turned her hand over and slipped her fingers through his.

Then she said, ‘My father has arranged to have you as guest. Some of your officers too, I think. It will appear more . . .'

‘Natural?'

She laughed. ‘My father wants to ask a favour.' She squeezed his hand very gently. ‘Just a little one.'

Then all at once, or so it seemed, they were at the dockyard gates.

She turned in her seat and after a slight hesitation lifted the armrest and pushed it away.

‘Now you not sad any more, Es-mond.' She glanced round as William stepped from the car and walked round to the rear door.

She said quickly, ‘
Kiss.
One kiss.'

He put his arm around her and kissed her cheek, his mind dazed by her nearness and the perfume of her body.

She pushed him away. ‘Quite enough!' But she was smiling, suddenly shy, her poise gone.

The door swung open and he stepped down, his cap still in his hand. The door closed but she lowered a window.

‘Take this.' She handed him a small flat package. She dropped her eyes and said, ‘New picture for you.' Then she turned aside and called, ‘Drive on, William!'

How long he stood there he did not know. He would unwrap the picture when he was alone in his quarters. He did not wish to share any of it. Just her. To go over each moment. How long had she been watching him in the temple before she had spoken? What had brought her to the place unless . . .

He tried to laugh at even such a possibility. But it was suddenly all too real for that.

It had been decided. Maybe right there in the temple.

Repulse Bay, which was situated on the south side of the island and named originally after a British man-of-war, was said to have the most attractive of all the beaches.

Although it was dark when the taxi reached the place, Brooke could well imagine what it would be like in daylight: a long curving beach, backed up by trees and green hills. There were twinkling lights everywhere. They passed several large houses, and Kerr remarked that rich Chinese and British residents owned most of them.

Calvert had gone to the hotel separately, and had said something about visiting a tailor.

Barrington-Purvis was sharing the taxi, a strangely quiet version of his former self, who had never been slow to criticise or complain. The reason was obvious. Paul Kipling's advanced promotion to acting-temporary lieutenant R.N.V.R. had been verified. They had left Kipling in charge of the ship, ably backed up by the Chief and the Gunner (T).

Perhaps Barrington-Purvis's father had recommended that his son remain as the ship's junior executive officer for a while longer. For his own good.

The sub-lieutenant looked like a man who had found a shilling and lost twenty pounds.

They swung on to a driveway, and framed against the stars Brooke saw the Repulse Bay Hotel. A place to take tea, and to admire the breathtaking view of the sea and its scattered islands.

The reception was for a new brigadier from England, a Royal Marine apparently. Brooke wondered whether this Brigadier Sexton had seen his brother or had any report from Jeremy after his last visit to Hong Kong; and angrily he remembered the girl snatching her arm away when Jeremy had tried to placate her, or whatever he had been attempting to do.

There were cars of all shapes and sizes parked below the hotel. Brooke felt his heart quicken as he saw the familiar bonnet of the pale green Rolls-Royce, and William, arms casually folded, standing beside it. Very aware that his car was the best there.

Kerr glanced at him. ‘Charles Yeung is here too then, sir?'

‘Yes.' Was Kerr probing? Was he that easy to read?

It was a very prestigious reception. Uniforms of the services, a few women in light dresses, and a large mixture of Chinese, businessmen or officials it was hard to tell. There were tables full of food, waiters hurrying about with drinks, and flowers galore.

Brooke smiled to himself. At her father's buffet party on the Peak he had remarked that he had expected to see orchids everywhere.

Lian had smiled gently. ‘
Anyone
can have orchids, Commander.'

Had she been laughing at him again; or at the host, her father's need to gain face, to impress?

They were all here. The commodore from
Tamar,
the chief-of-staff looking over everyone's heads as if preparing to play a new role. Commodore Stallybrass, his face redder than ever, officers from H.Q., from the flagship, but not many junior ones, he noticed. Stallybrass liked to play the field on his own.

Charles Yeung suddenly appeared from the throng. His silk suit was without a crease, and his hair looked as if it was trimmed every day.

He smiled as he took out his cigarette case. ‘I am glad to see you.' He shook hands with Kerr and Barrington-Purvis. ‘You are here as
my
guests.'

He took Brooke's arm and led him to a side table. ‘Champagne.'

Brooke said quietly, ‘I am sorry about your ship, sir. Had we been closer, we might have been able to save the crew at least.'

Yeung's dark eyes flickered. ‘An act of war. But nobody will admit to it.' He tossed his mood aside. ‘But what of you? Are you to remain in Hong Kong?'

‘I hope so, sir.'

Yeung studied him thoughtfully. Touched, perhaps, by the sincerity in his voice.

‘So do I. There are not so many British warships now. They are gone to Singapore. The
key,
remember?'

‘The favour you wish of me, sir?'

He did not seem to hear. ‘You see, my friend, if the British decide to pull out of Hong Kong there will be left a vacuum. An invitation to the Japanese army on the mainland, or one to be filled by General Chiang Kai-Shek. We have little choice in the matter. We can only offer aid, wherever we can get it.' He touched Brooke's sleeve. ‘The favour can wait. It concerns your Lieutenant Calvert. An interesting man, I think. But I will not spoil his evening.'

Brooke glanced past him and saw Calvert standing by the wall, a drink in one hand while he spoke to the small Wren officer beside him. Even as he watched he saw Calvert's hand move out from his side, and hers close around it. Something private. Something highly charged. He could feel it even across the room.

Yeung smiled and lit another cigarette. ‘The visiting brigadier's aide, I believe. Arrived a few days ago. An unexpected rendezvous, it would appear!'

Brooke drank his champagne slowly to give himself time. Kerr with his admission of a secret love for a girl he had known since childhood. Now Calvert, who had never mentioned any attachment, nor even the opportunity of finding one. He looked at Yeung's intelligent profile.
What would he say if he could read my thoughts?