The Dangerous Years Read Online Free PDF Page B

somehow dirty – and her feeling of guilt caused her to push the blame on Kelly.
    He stared at her bewildered. ‘Charley,’ he tried again.
    She lifted her head, her face pink and unhappy. ‘Oh, go to the devil,’ she snapped. ‘Go and talk to them.’
    Disconcerted by her reply, he went to the drawing room. Her sister, Mabel, was pouring brandy into goblets. ‘Hello, Kelly,’ she said, crossing the room to kiss him. ‘When did you arrive ?’
    ‘Today. We went out for a meal.’
    She smiled, friendlier than he’d ever known her. ‘Charley’s making coffee. You’d better have a brandy, too.’
    Mrs Upfold came towards him. She’d always disapproved of him but now, for the first time in his life, she pecked his cheek.
    ‘Kelly,’ she said, and he realised that it was also the first time she’d ever called him by his first name since he’d been a boy.
    Then he saw Verschoyle. Languid, lean and handsome, he was leaning dramatically on a stick, making the most of his wound. On his chest was the blue and red ribbon of the DSO.
    ‘Hello, Maguire,’ he said.
    ‘Congratulations on the medal, Cruiser,’ Kelly said.
    Verschoyle touched Kelly’s chest. ‘That’s the one I’d have liked,’ he said quietly, his voice tinged with envy.
    At that moment, Charley appeared with the coffee, resolutely avoiding Kelly’s look. When she finally met his gaze, he saw there was a faint redness about her eyes, but her mother went on chattering happily, unaware of what had happened because the room was lit only by shaded bulbs.
    As she handed him his cup, Verschoyle moved alongside him and touched his leg with the walking stick. There was a cynical smile on his face.
    ‘Tie, old boy,’ he murmured. ‘If I were you I should hoist it up two blocks. Shows what you were up to.’
    Kelly had enough control to put his cup down without rattling it and hitch his tie above his stud. Verschoyle watched him and, as he reached for his cup again, he raised his brandy glass.
    ‘That’s better, old boy,’ he murmured. ‘Well done.’
    If no one else had guessed what had been happening at the moment of their arrival, Verschoyle had, and in that moment, Kelly decided once again that of everyone he knew Verschoyle was the one person he disliked most.

 
     
Three
    Scapa had a stripped look, as empty as Kelly’s emotions.
    His leave had not been a great success and for some time Charley had even remained curiously distant, as though she blamed him for the catastrophe at Bessborough Terrace. He’d telephoned her the following day but she’d been at the hospital and it had been Mabel who’d answered instead. She’d seemed to be fishing for an invitation to lunch, and he’d fought her off with difficulty, deciding she went better with Verschoyle.
    A gust of wind came across the Flow, blustering against his cheek, and he could feel the touch of rain that denied the late spring. The interned German ships, more depressingly dingy than ever, stretched in a long line to the north and west of Cava, with the destroyers and other small craft moored in pairs in Gutter Sound. He felt strangely glad to be back. There was a rumour that they were due any day for the Mediterranean and he had a feeling that perhaps it would be for the best. The war seemed to have changed more than just the way of living. There was trouble in Ireland and the beginnings of industrial strife, and civilian life seemed a maelstrom of emotions.
    When he’d returned from Thakeham to London, Charley had seemed to be hiding from him. In the end, he’d waited outside the hospital for her to appear and whipped her into a taxi, uniform, apron and all, and taken her to the Savoy for tea.
    She had managed a little laugh. ‘Oh, Kelly, wasn’t it awful?’ she said. ‘What must you have thought of me? Thank Heavens nobody noticed.’
    Only Verschoyle, Kelly thought, with his yellow fox’s eyes that missed nothing, and his dagger-sharp brain that was able to put two very