She slammed the door so hard she nearly turned the car over. We never spoke again, although it wasn’t the last time I saw her.
Later I was having a smoke with Rob, in what they called the Off-Duty Ward Room. I casually asked him, ‘Where will they work the early morning shift tonight? The two till six.’
‘Number seven on the top floor: that’s at the very end, under the slit window.’
‘Any way I can watch the operator?’
‘Sure, just turn up – I’ll fix it for you.’
‘. . . I meant without the operator knowing I was there?’
He frowned but didn’t ask the obvious. He said, ‘Sure,’ again. Then, ‘We can get into one of the curtained alcoves before they come on duty, stay there and leave after their shift ends. Who is it, a he or a she?’
I had noticed the we.
‘A bit of both, I suspect.’
‘Would it be worth my watching too?’
‘Probably. But you’d better be able to keep your mouth shut afterwards.’
‘Mum’s the word.’ He was closer than he bloody realized, wasn’t he?
I know that you’ll think that was pretty sneaky of us, but I excused it as a necessary extension of my education, and it was, too. If I’d been able to take photographs I’d have been able to make a fortune flogging them off to the blokes in my next barrack. As it was Ivy went back to her man with more skills than she’d arrived at Dungeness with, and small-arms drill wasn’t the half of it. After an hour on stag (which means observation or guard duty for those of you who weren’t around in the Fifties) and watching the action, I’d have given her a certificate myself.
Elaine phoned me a few days later. I was allowed two calls in, and two out each week, although they couldn’t control who I called when I was outside. I made sure the boys got a couple of them. Dieter was dead keen on me working alongside a lighthouse, and made me promise to send him a postcard of it. He was thirteen now, I thought – we weren’t exactly sure – and had talked a lot about ships and sailing recently. It might be just a phase he was going through, or he might be inclined towards a Navy career. I’d wait and see. Anyway, I told you; Elaine phoned me.
‘Mr Halton just left. Someone told him you’ll get a posting soon – and at least a week’s leave before it. Will you be coming back?’
‘Of course I will.’
‘I’ve something to tell you.’ My heart flipped over. Most of the other organs in my body did as well. It wasn’t the first time she’d done this to me: I had been holding a telephone receiver to my ear in Germany when she told me she was pregnant the last time. She’d let me sweat for days before she let drop the fact that the new apple of her eye had been legitimately conceived in her marriage bed.
‘What?’
‘Terry’s taken the Watford job.’ Somewhere at the back of my mind the All-Clear sounded. Men can be bastards; you don’t have to tell me.
‘You mean you’ll be seeing a lot more of him. That’s a good thing, surely?’
‘I’ll also be seeing a bit less of you – when you come back, I mean. Or when you’re on leave . . .’
‘I understand; I won’t make things awkward for you – don’t worry about it.’ I was making it as easy as possible for her to drop me again.
At first she didn’t say anything, and then she sighed. It was a sigh as deep as the world’s end. Then she said, ‘Don’t worry, I won’t . . . but at least you could have had the manners to sound sorry about it!’ Then she slammed the phone down. Oh, Charlie: another fence to mend! I thought about what she’d said about my posting: I’d got used to Old Man Halton knowing more about my life than I did, but it still teed me off.
I took a two-bob bit from my pocket and made Dolly heads, and June tails. June had a nice tail, if I thought about it. It came up heads, so I phoned Dolly. Dolly didn’t answer: a man I didn’t recognize picked up her phone, so I hung up before I pressed the button.
June did answer. Without preamble I asked, ‘Could you get a few days off, and come down to the seaside with me? I have two young sons I didn’t tell you about, and they want to meet you.’
‘Who is this?’ She knew, of course, but was just making a bloody point.
‘Charlie. Charlie Bassett. We . . .’
‘I remember you, Charlie.’ Then she didn’t speak for so long I thought I’d lost the line. I played ‘Minnie the Moocher’ in my head, and got to the second verse. Then she said, ‘You’ve got a bloody nerve, Charlie!’
‘I know. Part of my charm?’
Another pause; not so long this time. If it carried on like this, my two bob would run out without anything getting settled.
‘Negative, Charlie; I should probably hang up.’
‘You still can.’
‘You took me for the most enjoyable meal in my life, romanced and bedded me, then didn’t return my phone calls. Even your secretary told me to bugger off, as if I was a naughty schoolgirl. It’s been at least a month.’
‘She was probably being protective. I’m sorry.’
‘She was protecting her own bloody patch!’
‘Maybe that as well. Wait while I put another tanner in, then I’ll have to be quick – it’s all the change I have.’
After the coin dropped she asked, ‘Where was it you wanted me to go again?’
‘A small place on the coast, named Bosham. I have a prefab there alongside a pub owned by one of my best friends . . .’
‘. . . and sons, you said?’
‘I have two boys. I told them about you,
