Chapter Three
Fraser was delighted with the afternoon off, was determined to make the best of it.
“Best bib and tucker, Naseby! Into town to make an impression on the younger females and to smile sweetly at the older. Rumour insists there are a number of grass widows, husbands posted to France and lonely in their conjugal beds. Wouldn’t know, myself, of course!”
Peter smiled and affirmed that no more would he. He had managed to get up to London fairly frequently while Calliope was fitting out at Portsmouth, was aware that Society had relaxed in wartime and that a good few of ladies had been happy to find a partner to warm their beds in their husbands’ absence. He had been grateful to more than one of their number in the previous months.
They walked out together, down the hill the half mile to the town, enjoying the May sunshine and relaxing in the Sussex countryside.
“May blossom at its best, Naseby. Nothing like the South Country in late spring! Primroses in the banks, hawthorn and blackthorn blooming white above them and cherry blossom a glorious pink. Makes me wish I could paint, you know!”
Peter had never had that desire. Thinking on it, he had never had many desires, other than to be a naval officer. He supposed he might be a somewhat shallow sort of chap – no hidden depths at all. No ambition – he had never wanted to be another Nelson, had suspected he would drift up through the ranks, more competent than most because that was the way he was made. He would eventually make flag rank, because that was the sort of thing one did in the Naseby family.
Perhaps he should think more about his life, aim to make something of it. Trouble was, he could imagine nothing that he wanted especially. He was happy to be a jolly good chap, competent at anything he turned his hand to and never letting down a friend or colleague. It was not much.
Strange that he should be sufficiently discontented to think about things – he never had been before.
They walked into the town, wandering idly down to the River Adur and the fishing harbour, nodding to the local folk as they passed and fetching up on the quay.
“Small drifters and crabbers here, Naseby. Nothing deepwater out of Shoreham. Make big catches during the herring run, pick up flatfish as well, though I don’t know how they catch them, being bottom feeders. Used to make money taking holidaymakers out with rod and line. Not no more, of course.”
“Nothing naval here?”
“No. Too small and shallow for anything more than a converted trawler and there’s no call for minesweeping on this stretch of coast. Attractive little place. Likely to stay that way, no war to mess it up!”
Peter supposed he was right. The war did make things untidy. He heard a motor buzzing, glanced up to see a blimp coming in to land.
“SS 14. Beecham’s got her – the sub with the loud laugh.”
Peter remembered being irritated by the man’s noise the previous evening.
“Is that a mid up front?”
“Yes, Midshipman Handy, being given a few familiarisation runs before he starts out to train as a pilot. Should do well. Fresh fish tonight, by the looks of it.”
Peter showed puzzled.
“Look at the bomb load. Eight sixteen pounders. One missing. Dropped on a favourite spot and then a basket on a rope to pick up the floaters.”
“Oh! Is that permitted, officially?”
“Dropping a single bomb on a suspicious shadow just below the surface, could have been a sub at periscope depth? Positively encouraged, dear boy. Never know what it might have been!”
“I see I have much to learn… Is that a young lady smiling at you, Fraser?”
Fraser looked across, following Peter’s eyes.
“So it is! Come and meet Miss Halliday – one of the local charmers. Good family as well. Don’t know who that is with her, the youngster.”
“I do.”
Peter smiled as he came up to the pair.
“Miss Hawes-Parker, I hope I find you well?”
“You do, Lieutenant Naseby. I believe my companion, Miss Halliday, knows Lieutenant Fraser but not you?”
Introductions were made and they strolled towards the bakers tearoom, naturally falling into two couples on the narrow pavements.
“Are you enjoying emancipation from your school, Miss Hawes-Parker?”
“Very much, Lieutenant! I have no wish to become a blue-stocking, studying at one of the university colleges that will accept women, and have even less desire to learn Domestic Economy, which, apparently, all modern women should be familiar with, the age of servants having passed, or very nearly so.”
“My mother complained when I saw her last month that the maids were all leaving for jobs in the factories, as they paid so much more. When she offered to raise their wages, they still left, wishing, she said, ‘to be free’. She cannot comprehend why they should do so.”
“It is rather unfortunate, I can appreciate, Lieutenant. My grandparents have some servants, in the nature of things, but they are mostly long in their employ, have grown old with them and could not consider going elsewhere. It might be difficult to find young girls to replace them when the time comes.”
Peter was unconvinced.
“Pay high and they will come. There will be fewer jobs for them after the war in any case.”
They sat down at the bakers and ordered tea and scones, the four together, attracting a few eyes for being young and handsome and well-off.
“Are you a pilot now, Lieutenant Naseby?”
Fraser answered.
“I should say he is, Miss Hawes-Parker! A natural, if ever there was. Naseby will be taking over at Polegate next week as senior of flying there.”
“Are you to leave Shoreham, then, Lieutenant Naseby?”
“Sent away, I fear. Only a few miles. The field there is more suitable. I believe the RNAS is to retain Shoreham, probably as a training field for aeroplanes. There is an ongoing need for pilots, I know.”
It was a pity – even at a distance of a few miles they would see less of the officers.
Peter thought that was as well; he should see less of Miss Hawes-Parker. She was a pretty girl and easy to talk to – he could become attracted to her, he was certain. He could not possibly marry before he was promoted, and that must be several years in the ordinary way of things. Wiser far to remain unattached. Better for her as well as him.
He laughed, inwardly – he had no reason at all to suppose that she was interested in him. Coming from a diplomatic background, she must be used to the company of all sorts of intelligent, able accomplished men. A minor naval lieutenant had very little to offer other than a handsome face.
He really supposed that he must make something of himself. That must be as a flier in the first instance. It was necessary to learn all he could about his new trade and then apply it. It would be helpful to pick up a submarine kill – that would instantly elevate him out of the ranks of the ordinary.
They sipped their tea and nibbled their scones and said rather a lot about very little and then found they had to go their separate ways, hoping they would meet again soon. It was all very bland and meaningless.