‘The Sea Witch has the same class of engine as a gunboat? But that must make her very fast! No wonder Commander Denham was able to survive the storm and get to Pechorin Island so quickly!’
She leant forward. ‘Now, tell me about the storm. There was no warning. It seemed to come from nowhere. Oh, I was so relieved to be beneath the waves, where no storm can find me! But if I had thought that my dear friend Marina Denham was being tossed from here to there on those brutal waves above me, I wouldn’t have been able to sleep a wink. How did you survive?’
‘My father is extremely brave,’ Marina said, feeling immensely proud. Now here was a story which would impress Miss Smith. She just must not think of how she had felt as she had stood on the prow of the boat and felt she had become the sea. That was too foolish. ‘He called us all into the mess . . .’ Marina explained.
‘And the dogs survived their ordeal in the hold?’ Miss Smith’s eyes flickered with concern.
‘They did!’
‘And not one man was lost! Remarkable!’
Marina squirmed. ‘Almost no one.’
‘Almost?’
Marina faltered as she described the loss of Trenchard. ‘He was very brave. But he didn’t follow orders, you see,’ she muttered, staring down at Paddy’s head.
Miss Smith shook her head. ‘Tragic,’ she whispered. ‘To be drowned at sea must be the most horrible way to die. But this man, this Trenchard, did not obey orders. What could he expect? This is why I only work with men I really trust. If a man does not follow my orders, I dismiss him. On the spot.’ Marina was impressed that the First Sea Lord’s secretary was given so much responsibility. The woman must be extremely capable. And to think that the navy didn’t want to employ such women! ‘My manservant, for example, he follows my every command. Do you know? I really think he would die for me . . . not that I would ask him to!’ She patted Marina’s hand once more. ‘Now, dear heart.’ Her eyes twinkled. ‘A welcome feast for my friend.’
27
Miss Smith rang a small bell and two men appeared and laid a table with a starched white cloth, cutlery and several silver-lidded dishes. After they were dismissed with a wave of Miss Smith’s hand, she lifted one of the domed lids and sniffed appreciatively.
‘This is my favourite dish of roast pork,’ she said. ‘Quite delicious after a long trek to the most northerly part of Pechorin Island. And with the pork, some fried potatoes, pickled cucumber and sour cream. Have you ever tasted this dish before? I think perhaps not. In London the potatoes are so sad and plain – boiled until they are grey. These, I think, you will like much more.’
Miss Smith placed a plate piled with food on Marina’s lap. Paddy looked up hopefully and Marina slipped him a fried potato. Marina wasn’t sure she would like anything as strange as pickled cucumber, and she didn’t think Ivy would approve of the mound of cream on her plate, but she took a mouthful. It was delicious, and she took another and another.
‘You like it?’ Miss Smith was watching her, smiling. She took the cork out of a bottle of wine and poured the golden liquid into a glass.
‘Oh, I do,’ Marina answered, still chewing. What could Ivy say? She was in Kent, with her sister! While Marina was safe in this Admiralty hut with her glamorous friend, Miss Smith, waiting for her father. How surprised he would be to see her . . . Marina swallowed.
‘Is this what you used to eat in Northumbria?’ She felt she must say something, as the woman was watching her as if she wanted Marina to talk. ‘Where you said you grew up?’
‘How clever you are to remember!’ Miss Smith took a sip of her wine. ‘This recipe is indeed a favourite in my home town.’ She smiled indulgently at Marina. ‘When I knew I had to come here, I made sure to send my favourite food so that I wouldn’t feel homesick. What is the food that would most remind you of your home?’
Marina thought of Ivy’s dry bread-and-butter pudding, the custard often lumpy and not enough of it. Or the watery cabbage that was served, without fail, with a slice of gammon every Thursday. But how could she admit that Ivy was not just a ‘plain’ cook, but a bad one as well? That a crust of bread and beef dripping was by far the nicest supper Marina ever ate. It felt that she was being disloyal to tell Miss Smith of Ivy’s failings.
‘Eclairs,’ she said, choosing an impressive lie rather than the boring truth. ‘I have two every day for breakfast. With a hot chocolate. It’s quite the nicest thing. Sets me up for the day.’
‘Eclairs?’ Miss Smith’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘And hot chocolate? Before noon? What a constitution you must have!’ And then she laughed. ‘That’s quite the most decadent thing I have ever heard. I must try it! Now. Eat up. I can’t offer you an eclair, but there will be a slice of chocolate cake for pudding, if you clean your plate.’
Marina redoubled her efforts, piling potatoes on to her fork.
‘Oh, I’m so happy that I found you. I hadn’t realized how good it is to have a dear friend with me. I hadn’t realized how very lonely I can be.’ Miss Smith leant forward to whisper, even though the only other person in the room was Marina. ‘To have a female companion means that I can talk so much more freely. Men are so dull, don’t you think? How bored you must have been on the Sea Witch. How much more fun we would have had in my little submarine! Would you like to come with me next time?’
‘Oh, yes!’ Marina gasped, her mouth full of fried potatoes. She chewed
