Torpedo Run (1981) Read Online Free PDF Page A

again. A sort of madness, with nothing at the end of it. Perhaps that was how Richie had seen it? His number was nearly up anyway. They all said that. If you got through the first few operations you gained a kind of immortality, a confidence that nothing could destroy you. Then it passed. Maybe Richie could wait no longer and had ended it beforehis desperation had put others’ lives at stake.
    Whitcombe had made it sound easy. Five boats and one hundred and ten human beings.
    It was a pity that men like the journalist who had written those sickening headlines about him could not see what really happened when a man died in combat, without hope, stripped even of dignity.
    His fingers groped for a door handle and then he found himself stumbling through some heavy curtains which smelt of stale tobacco.
    The lights inside the hotel were coldly bright. It was a combined lobby and lounge, with an oak staircase turning above a small reception desk, and a wall-covering which looked like dark red velvet. There were potted plants, and Devane could imagine there might once have been a small trio to play light music before tea and dinner.
    He noticed for the first time that the half-dozen or so people who were sitting at the small tables were all women. With something like panic he thought he had blundered into an hotel which was off limits to servicemen. It would make his retreat even more ridiculous.
    ‘May I help you, sir?’
    Devane turned and saw a woman in a black dress regarding him from behind the desk. She had not been there before. Like the pantomime genie, she must have popped up through the floor.
    She must have seen his expression and said tartly, ‘I’ve been in the cellar. The
shelter
, that is.’ She had omitted the ‘sir’ this time.
    ‘Sorry. I was wondering if I could see Mrs Richie.’
    He waited but nothing happened. The voices still murmured from the tables, and he heard the clatter of plates and someone singing. The kitchen.
    ‘Are you a friend of hers?’
    Devane stared. ‘Why? Do I need an appointment?’
    She flinched. ‘We get a lot of strange callers.’ She nodded very slightly towards the women in the lounge. ‘Some men, well, you know how it is.’ Her mood changed completely. ‘It’s my turn to apologize. I recognize you from your picture,and on the newsreel at the Odeon.’ She added quietly, ‘These ladies are in town to receive their husbands’ medals.’
    Devane made himself turn and look at them. So that explained it. The stillness he had felt, the strange similarity of these women. This was the side you never saw. He was learning a lot today.
    At sea, and especially in coastal forces, the companies were mostly too young to be married, and the average age seemed around nineteen. In bigger ships and shore establishments there were jokes in plenty at the expense of those who were married, and little sympathy for the meaningless problems of house mortgages, school fees and the shortage of money which affected all families in wartime. The letters of sympathy which Devane had written had mostly been to mothers, not widows.
    I should not have come
.
    ‘This
is
unexpected.’
    Devane swung round and saw her standing at the foot of the stairway. She was wearing the same dress and carrying a coat over one arm.
    ‘Yes. That is. . . .’ Again she made him feel awkward and on the defensive.
    She said, ‘I was going for a walk along the embankment.’ She held out the coat to him. ‘You are staring. Hold this for me.’ She turned into the coat with the ease of a dancer and studied him curiously. ‘It
was
me you came to see, I assume?’
    He forced a smile. ‘I couldn’t just walk away. You were upset. I wanted to help.’
    ‘Walk with me.’ As he held the heavy curtain aside she said, ‘This place is like death’s waiting room.’ She said it without contempt or bitterness.
    As they crossed the darkened road to the embankment she added, ‘I’m better now. Sorry I made a scene. Not like