‘Daphne,’ she said.
‘Of course, a goddess’s name for a goddess.’
‘Not a goddess, just a little ordinary nymph.’
‘Don’t go changing into a laurel tree,’ he said.
She was impressed, though she had been hearing jokes about the laurel tree all her life.
‘No pyjamas,’ she said. ‘Sorry.’ He slowly took off his trousers and blue shirt, and stood in Joe’s underpants, which hung on him like a loincloth. He slid into bed where he lay, looking at her with the same smile, as at a marvel.
‘You’re English,’ he said.
‘Yes, like you.’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you going to be all right?’
‘I’m in a dream,’ he said, and reached up with both arms and pulled her down. He held her. He was strong, after all. He turned his head so his face was in her neck and her hair, and said, ‘Your hair smells so wonderful.’
‘You’re going to have to let me go,’ she said,
‘Why?’ he said.
This absurdity made her laugh, and she freed herself, but he found her hand and held it to his cheek.
‘Heaven,’ he said. ‘I’m in heaven.’
And then he fell asleep and she went in, shaken, oh, yes, badly shaken, though she could not have said why. A poor half-starved waif of a boy, but smelling now of his proper smell, of man - and her heart was pumping. She sat by herself in her living-room, smoked a cigarette, another, and then rang Betty.
‘My lot are all asleep,’ she said.
‘So are mine. They are in a bad way’
‘We’ll feed them up.’
‘Then back on the ship again. It’s a shame.’
‘What price the party tomorrow night?’
‘We’ll have it, and they can join in or not as they like.’
Next morning she was up early as usual, and wandered in her wrap through the house where her charges were all lost to the world. Tom, Dick and Harry, she was calling them in her mind, for she was tending to confuse this lot with the last, of a few weeks before. She went around the garden, which tonight would be festive - it was already decked with lanterns and lights. Festive and crowded. She rang the base and got her husband and said the party would be tonight and tomorrow too, and he said he was sorry, ‘Things aren’t too … no, I’ll tell you when I see you.’
She ate her breakfast, fruit and coffee, alone. Then she was in the kitchen planning for tonight with the maids and the gardener. This was their third troopship, and the four were like old campaigners.
Not till mid-morning were there signs of life, but at last Tom, Dick and Harry - Sergeants Jerry, Ted and John - emerged yawning. She sat with them as bacon and eggs and fried tomatoes disappeared: they had their appetites hack. Because of what Joe had said, she noticed they all had rough and reddened skins, in patches. They exposed torsos and thighs to her, red and rashy, and in some places beginning to suppurate.
‘I’ve called our doctor.’
Next she went to where James was still asleep. He woke with a cry, then sat leaning on his elbow and smiling. She was sitting at a safe distance.
‘How’s your skin? The doctor’s coming.
Again she was looking at patches that were like measles or a heat rash. And his knee: it was swollen, with a scar in a puff of white flesh. And his feet were swollen and red.
‘We didn’t get our boots off much.’
He took her hand and held it to his cheek, eyes closed, his face grave, lips trembling.
‘James,’ she said, as grave as he, ‘I have a husband.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ he said.
This was certainly not the jest of the seducer, but a fair statement of the position.
‘But you do have to see the doctor.’
He kissed her hand and let it go.
One after another, the doctor examined the young men, and pronounced them all in poor shape. Libations of cold water would cure their skins: but soon they would be on the ship again. One had a cough. One had swollen glands. All had bad feet, and bruises where they had knocked themselves as the ship bucked and swung. ‘I take it you didn’t keep much down, from the look of you?’
And he ordered them to walk a couple of streets to his surgery, for various treatments.
Meanwhile Betty arrived and said to Daphne, ‘What’s up with you?’
“What do you mean?’
