Sunset (28 page)

Even Sarah was different since the arrival of their son: a tiny, wrinkled thing which either slept or cried the house down. Sarah was an intelligent, charming girl, with looks to turn any man's head, but since the child she had gone through a complete change, cooing and gloating at every sound and function her child performed. The other officers' wives were much the same, although Jeremy had never believed it could happen to her.

‘Commander Brooke, sir?'

He swung round, knocked off-balance by the girl's voice.

‘Er, yes.' He stared at the small Wren third officer. ‘You were expecting me?'

She smiled. ‘A signal, sir.' But her eyes suggested
of course we were.

He waited for her to climb into the car. She was pretty. A nice figure too, what he could see of it through her shirt. She tapped on the seat and the driver let in the clutch.

She could almost feel his eyes exploring her. She asked lightly, ‘How was Sydney?'

‘Getting hotter.' He looked across the anchorage. Still many ships here, but not many grey hulls.

He said, ‘Didn't know there were any Wrens in H.K.' It came out like an accusation.

She smiled. ‘There aren't. Just me. Here on sufferance. I'm with Brigadier Sexton.'

‘Oh. Of course.'

She glanced at his profile. Not all that much like Toby's commanding officer in looks, and not at all in manner.

He asked abruptly, ‘Is
Serpent
alongside?'

It was her turn to be startled, but he was too engrossed in his thoughts to notice.

‘Er – no, sir. She's been on escort duty.' She remembered her dismay when Toby had telephoned her.

She had exclaimed, ‘I might not be here when you come in again!'

He had been silent on the other end of the line. Her outburst had revealed her feelings better than any private letter.

Then he had said quietly, ‘I need to see you again.' Such a small voice, she had afterwards thought. A man with the Victoria Cross, whose exploits her father had pasted in his war book. If only she had been with him after it happened. She would have held him, given him comfort . . .

The next morning she had been up at dawn, some borrowed binoculars close to hand, but she had not needed them to see that the old destroyer's berth was empty.

Jeremy said, ‘I'd like to see the brigadier as soon as I've changed.'

‘I can fix a meeting for this afternoon, sir.'

Jeremy relaxed slightly.
An obstacle
. It always made him feel better. He could recall a line in a play they had performed at Dartmouth Royal Naval College. He had been a Cavalier, in long boots and a plumed hat.

When challenged by a smaller walk-on part he had swirled his hat in the air and proclaimed, ‘It will
not
wait. I am on the King's business!'

He said calmly, ‘It will have to be sooner than that, I'm afraid. What's your name, by the way?'

She was just beginning to wonder where the brigadier might be, or whether he had yet set off for the golf course.

The commander's attitude was beginning to annoy her. ‘Third Officer Yorke, sir.'

He smiled. Another challenge.

‘Am I booked into the Pen?'

‘Yes, sir. I can ring up H.Q. from there while you're . . .'

He said, ‘No. Take the car yourself.' He looked at her directly. ‘This is top secret,
Third Officer
Yorke. Even a whisper would go
right across the New Territories and Victoria in minutes. I know – I used to spread news I wanted people to hear in that very bar!'

She faced him and asked simply, ‘Is it very bad, sir?'

He felt a new excitement. She was worried about something. Some
body
more likely, with her looks.

‘Don't worry. Whatever happens it won't affect you.'

She stared out of the opposite window. When Toby got back she might not be here to comfort him. To help him break the curse that was destroying him.

It won't affect you
. Patronising and arrogant. She had seen him looking at her legs, and at the way her damp shirt was clinging to her breasts.
Well, let him look, damn him!
She recalled the new confidence which Sister Ruth Shelley's massage had given her. No blushing or confusion. When she had been in training she had been appalled by the way some of her classmates had strolled about their quarters quite nude without any sort of embarrassment. Sure of themselves? Or had it really been some kind of defiance?

Jeremy asked casually, ‘Have you met Charles Yeung while you've been here?'

‘Yes. I was at the reception given for my boss at Repulse Bay.' She glanced at him. Toby had mentioned that this man had married his C.O.'s fiancée, and there was some rumour about him and that Chinese girl as well.

She thought of Ruth Shelley's comment, which had shocked her.
A bit on the side
. Was that what Commander Brooke was after? Handsome, mysterious, conceited. Used to having his own way.

She said, ‘Here we are, sir.
The Pen
.'

It was not lost on him. ‘I'll see you in an hour, right?'

She leaned back and waited for the porters to remove his luggage.

She smiled. ‘
Right!
'

Commodore Cedric Stallybrass glanced around his flagship's wardroom and said heavily, ‘I think we are ready to begin.' He looked questioningly at his secretary. ‘Yes?'

The secretary responded hastily, ‘All personnel cleared from aft, sir. Sentries mounted.'

Stallybrass grunted. ‘A bit over the top maybe, but . . .'

He turned towards Commander Jeremy Brooke, who was tapping a cigarette on a slim gold case while he waited for permission to smoke.

It was hot and oppressive in the wardroom, the only place large enough to accommodate this gathering. Members of the dockyard's senior staff, the commanding officers of the remaining ships in harbour, including the flotilla leader
Islip
's bearded captain, Ralph Tufnell, the S.N.O. of the motor torpedo boats, and some old China hands who skippered the elderly force of Yangtze and East River gunboats.

The door opened silently and the Chief-of-Staff, Captain Albert Granville, made a quietly apologetic entrance.

The commodore beamed at him. ‘Now we are all here, eh, Bertie?'

Several of them laughed, but most were watching the elegant commander from the Department of Naval Intelligence.

Jeremy did not stand up. ‘I am not going to make a speech, gentlemen.' He smiled briefly at Stallybrass. ‘We have heard or read more than enough of those lately. I am not even going to offer any opinions.'

Someone said, ‘Good show!'

Jeremy's glance passed over the offender as if he were a stain on the carpet.

‘The fact is that, whatever the outcome of what lies immediately ahead of us, Hong Kong, and Kowloon to a lesser extent, will be a fortress, closed to all comers. There are, however, precautions to be taken, and without delay. In the unlikely event of an attack on Hong Kong by an enemy, who for the purpose of this review must remain nameless, all unmilitary personnel will be evacuated. Measures are in hand as I sit here . . .'

Stallybrass exclaimed, ‘I say, Bertie, did you know about this?'

The Chief-of-Staff shook his actor's mane of hair and replied, ‘Up to a point. But as the possibility of such an action coming to pass is, as Commander Brooke has been quick to point out,
unlikely,
I think we should take it one step at a time.'

Jeremy contained a smile. Bertie's reply was meaningless.

He cleared his throat. ‘As I was saying, gentlemen,
evacuated
. Wives and families, dependants, will be escorted by sea to Australia.' He had their full attention now. ‘Heavy casualties would otherwise be inevitable. My admiral has stated that the Prime Minister intends the Colony to stand firm and to await reinforcements. Major units of the fleet are already being sent to Singapore, where they will be better placed for our mutual defence and for any future offensive.' He was aware of their intent expressions. ‘
Top Secret,
gentlemen!'

Stallybrass snapped, ‘They do not have to be told!'

He fell silent as Jeremy turned cold eyes upon him. ‘There will be a bloodbath if there is any
hint
of retreat!'

It was easy to deflate Stallybrass. He recalled his admiral looking down from his window in Whitehall. Air-raid shelters, policemen in steel helmets, sandbags outside the Admiralty. At least they were
doing
something, or trying to. There had been flowers in the park, too.

His admiral had said, ‘Stallybrass will go down with his flag flying if so ordered. You will have to tread carefully. He is a very stupid man.'

Jeremy said, ‘Most of our troops here were envied when they were sent to Hong Kong. Some have, apart from basic training, performed only guard duty. If we are attacked they will not be envied for long.' He looked sharply at Commander Tufnell. ‘Yes?'

Tufnell did not flinch. ‘Why should this “enemy” attack us? We've taken pains to keep out of
their
war.'

‘Why, indeed? If we knew all the answers . . .' He became business-like again. ‘The fact is, we must prepare. Be ready.' He judged the right moment. You could have heard a pin drop. ‘There is another possibility. That the defences could not hold out.'

There were gasps of astonishment and anger, as he knew there would be.

He continued unhurriedly, ‘In which case, all vessels that could be used by an enemy must be destroyed or rendered useless.
Dockyard facilities, stores, ammunition. It would be a final act before . . .'

Tufnell stood up, his eyes blazing. ‘
Surrender?
Is that what you're preparing for? If so . . .'

Jeremy turned to the commodore. ‘I said at the start, it is not a suggestion. But decisions have to be made. It is, I appreciate, a great responsibility for you, sir.'

Stallybrass puffed out his cheeks. ‘I am ready to accept it, and more. It will not come to this, but I must agree that the safety of our people is of paramount importance!'

Jeremy nodded. ‘Quite so, sir.' The thought of offending somebody in high places had been enough to change Stallybrass's mind. Jeremy asked casually, ‘When is
Serpent
due back?'

‘Two days' time.' The commodore was very preoccupied.

‘I see.' It would be interesting to gauge his brother's reactions.

He looked around at their grim, hostile faces. Most of them had been in Hong Kong for a long time, at least since the outbreak of war.

And not one of them had noticed anything, or at least, if they had, thought it important enough to pass on. And yet, to the Intelligence people in Whitehall even the tiniest fragment fitted into the overall picture. An increase in Japanese fleet movements in the Pacific, and the biggest build-up of troops on the Chinese mainland just across the border from the New Territories. And much smaller pieces. Japanese residents of Hong Kong were suddenly leaving the Colony, the hairdressing salons and massage parlours, the bars which were regularly used by British officers were being left abandoned. Nobody, it seemed, had thought it unusual. If only one Japanese in twenty was a spy, they would have enough information to open the gates from within.

Jeremy glanced at
Islip
's angry captain.

If something wasn't done soon, they would not even have time to surrender.

Lieutenant-Commander Esmond Brooke stood as high as possible on the starboard side of the bridge to watch the dwindling strip of choppy water between
Serpent
and
Islip
as the final wires were passed across and made fast. Then there was no water at
all, and the two steel hulls squeaked against the rope fenders like old friends.

Brooke wiped his forehead with his wrist. It was very hot and there was a chance of heavy rain according to the Met reports.

It felt like months since they had been ordered once again to Singapore to act as additional escort for a fast convoy bound for Australia. They had been forced to refuel at sea, at other times good experience in teamwork and seamanship, but Brooke was well aware of the unsettled atmosphere that pervaded his ship.

Everything they did seemed to lack purpose; even escort work could have been carried out by the Australians themselves. It was as if someone simply wanted to keep
Serpent
employed in case there was a real emergency.

How long this time, he wondered. The Chief had been complaining about a bearing running hot in the starboard shaft gland. Once in the hands of the dockyard again, it might take ages to repair. There was no queue of damaged and battle-scarred ships here, each desperately needing a dock or basin, as there was in Britain, but in Hong Kong the dockyard seemed to begin work when Colours were sounded, and stop when they were lowered.

‘All secure fore and aft, sir!'

‘Very well. Ring off main engines.'

The ship shuddered while the duty part of the watch hurried to make the upper deck presentable for any important visitors. Lieutenant Calvert was fastening down the cover on the chart table. Even he had been unsettled lately.

Brooke picked up his pipe and tobacco pouch.
We are all on edge because of uncertainty, and feelings we dare not reveal
.

He shaded his eyes to stare up at the Peak. Was she watching the harbour to see them come alongside?

What of Calvert? Had he recovered from his moment of terror in Charles Yeung's seaplane?

Brock, the petty officer telegraphist, lingered on the top of the bridge ladder.

Kerr, who had come up from the forecastle, his station for entering and leaving harbour, looked at him warily. ‘Well?'

Brock glanced towards the captain. ‘Restricted, sir.'

Kerr took it.
Oh God. Another one. Who is it this time?

He saw Brooke's tawny eyes flicker just once as he read the signal, then he said quietly, ‘The Cox'n, Number One, and a seaman named Robert Dalton.'