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Frances allowed herself a last look, and then, not sure why, she held out a slim hand to him After a moment’s hesitation, he took it, and they shook soleet to bed, boys Got to be fresh for the !’

They stared at each other Vincent Duxbury’s voice increased in voluular flood of light ‘Hoe"’

She tugged him into the little room, and closed the door silently behind the as the eway There was hing

‘I have to inform you,’ said Dr Duxbury, ‘that you are quite the finest band of e"Mythe passageas briefly joined in tuneless discord by the others

She was so close he could feel her breath upon hily in his Her cool skin was blistering

‘"My merry band"la la la la’ If it hadn’t been that she had chosen that ht never have done it But she had raised her face, lips parted, as if in a question, and put her hand to the cut above his brow, tracing it with her fingertips Instead of stepping away from her, as he had intended, he raised his hand to hers, touching it, and then, ers outside increased in volume, then broke into conversation Someone fell over and from a distance there was a muffled ‘You there!’, the brisk steps of someone in authority

Nicol hardly heard the treht her hand down, let it slide across his face, feeling no pain even as it touched those places that were sore and bruised And then he pressed it, hard, to his mouth

She hesitated, and then, with a sound that was like a little gasp of despair, she pulled back her hand and herhis now as if she would make them stay on her for ever

It eet, so sweet as to be indecent Nicol wanted to absorb her into hi I knew this! soly, as he became aware of the heat of his own desperate need, he felt a hint of danger, so condemnatory, and was unsure whether it was directed at her or himself But then his eyes opened and locked with hers, and in their infinite pain and longing there was so, so honest that he found he could not breathe And as he lowered his face to hers again it was she who pulled back, one hand raised to her lips, her eyes still on his ‘I’lanced briefly at Avice, still asleep on the bed, then lifted a hand fleetingly to his cheek, as if iht and feel of hione, the rasp what they had seen The storerooently but fir like that of a prison gate

The cereht In different circu: thethe ca breeze barely disturbed the palm trees, but offered discreet relief froroom, there were just three people in attendance: the chaplain, the matron and Captain Baillie The bride, her voice barely audible, sat by the groom for the entire service The chaplain crossed himself several tiht thing The ht not be, and reiven the state of the world around them, this one small act should not play on his conscience

The bride sat, head bowed, and held the hand of the y At the end of the service she placed her pale face in her hands and sat still for sohtly, like a swih water

‘Are we done?’ said the matron, who seemed the most composed of them all

The chaplain nodded, his brow still furrowed, eyes cast down

‘Sister?’ The girl opened her eyes She see, to look at the people around her

‘Right,’ said Audrey Marshall, looking at her watch and reaching for her notes ‘Time of death, eleven forty-four’

24

When the aircraft carrier Victorious reached Plyet a gliainst a stanchion till it collapsed and twenty of theht feet to the deck below They were unhurt One bride could not share the general excitement She learnt at the end of her 13,000-mile journey that her husband as to haveaccident

Daily Mirror, Wednesday, 7 August 1946

Eight hours to Plymouth

A naval unifor With its thick dark material, its braid and brass buttons, it speaks of whole other real,– involved in its upkeep It speaks of propriety, routines and orderly habits, of those who inhabit it and those whose unifores, it also speaks of a history of conflict It tells a story: of battles fought and won, of sacrificesabout a life Highfield stared at his unifor under little epaulettes of tissue paper, ready for its last outing when Victoria docked the following day What does that unifor his hand down the sleeve Does it tell of a man who only kneho he hen he was at war? Or of afrohfield turned to the chart that lay folded upon his table with a pair of dividers Beside it stood his half-packed trunk He knehere his steould have placed it, did not have to slide his hands too far under the carefully packed clothes before he found the frame that had spent the last six months face down in his drawer Now he took it out, unwrapped the tissue paper in which Rennick had thoughtfully placed it It was a silver-fra wo her hair in dark ribbons across her face

It would make a man of the lad, he had told his sister The Navy turned boys into e of the youngon his wife’s shoulders Then he ht on the table It would be the last thing he would take from this ship