Page 102 of The Ship of Brides
‘Step away, Tims.’
The voice came from her right. Tims’s head lifted, and she glanced across his shoulder. He was standing there, his eyes burning black in the dim light.
‘Step away, Tims.’ His tone was icy.
Tims checked the other man’s identity, smiled and abandoned it, as if unsure how chummy he should be. ‘A little dispute over payment,’ he said, backing away from her and ostentatiously checking his trousers. ‘Nothing you need to concern yourself about. You know what these girls are like.’
She closed her eyes, not wanting to see the marine’s face. She was shaking violently.
‘Get inside.’ The marine spoke slowly.
Tims seemed remarkably cool. ‘Like I said, Marine, just a disagreement about price. She wants to charge twice the going rate. Considers us sailors a captive market, know what I mean?’
‘Get inside,’ said Nicol.
She stepped closer to the wall, unwilling even to be in Tims’s line of vision.
‘We’ll keep this to ourselves, eh? Don’t suppose you want the captain to know he’s carrying a brass. Or who her friends are.’
‘If I see you so much as look in Mrs Mackenzie’s direction for the remainder of the voyage, I’ll have you.’
‘You?’
‘It might not be on board. It might not even be on this voyage. But I’ll have you.’
‘You don’t want to make an enemy of me, Marine.’ Tims was at the hatch. His eyes glittered in the darkness.
‘You aren’t listening to me.’
There was a moment of exquisite stillness. Then, with a final, hard look at the two of them, Tims backed through the hatch. She was about to breathe out when his huge, shorn head reappeared. ‘Offered you half price, has she?’ He laughed. ‘I’ll tell your missus...’
They listened as Tims’s footsteps faded in the direction of the stokers’ mess.
‘Are you all right?’ he said, quietly.
She smoothed her hair off her face and swallowed hard. ‘I’m fine.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘You shouldn’t have to...’ His voice tailed off, as if he were unsure of what he wanted to say.
She was unable to determine if she was brave enough to look at him. Finally, ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, and fled.
When he returned there was only one other marine in the mess: the young bugler, Emmett, was fast asleep, arms stretched behind his head with the relaxed abandon of a small child. The little room smelt stale; the heat was heavy in the air, on the discarded ashtrays and unfilled shoes. Nicol removed his uniform, washed, and then, his towel round his neck and the water already evaporating from his skin, pulled his writing-paper from his locker and took a seat.
He was not a letter-writer. Many years ago, when he had tried, he had found that his pen stumbled over the words, that the sentiments on the page rarely mirrored what he felt inside. Now, however, the words came easily. He was letting her go. ‘There is a passenger on board,’ he wrote, ‘a girl with a bad past. Seeing what she has suffered has made me realise that everyone deserves a second chance, especially if someone out there is willing to give them one, in spite of what they carry with them.’
Here he lit a cigarette, his gaze fixed ahead on nothing. He stayed like that for some time, oblivious to the men arguing down the corridor, the sound of the trumpet practice going on in the bathroom, the men who were now climbing into their hammocks around him.
Finally he put the nib of his pen back onto the paper. He would take it ashore tomorrow and wire it. No matter the cost. ‘I suppose what I am trying to say is that I’m sorry. And that I’m glad you’ve found someone to love you, despite everything. I hope he will be good to you, Fay. That you have the chance of the happiness you deserve.’
He reread it twice before he saw that he had written Frances’s name.
18
Now you understand why British soldiers respect the women in uniform. They have won the right to the utmost respect. When you see a girl in khaki or air-force blue with a bit of ribbon on her tunic – remember she didn’t get it for knitting more socks than anyone else in Ipswich.
A Short Guide to Great Britain, War and Navy
Departments,Washington, DC
