They walked back to her grandparents’ house on the outskirts of the small town, a short enough distance. It was almost a mansion, at least a score of bedrooms and set in four or five acres of garden and lawns.
“My grandfather is worried that he cannot lay his hands on the gardeners he needs, Peter. There was used to be five of them, each with a boy, but the younger men have all gone off to war. He has been able to take on a pair of men who have come back wounded and unable to continue to serve. I suspect there will be more of them over the coming year.”
He feared she might be right.
“There is my grandfather, in the rose beds. Will you come across to meet him, Peter?”
Doing so implied an interest, even if she did not seem to notice it was so.
He had achieved a first necessary promotion and there was every chance of another inside the following two years – and she was an attractive young lady…
“I am Lieutenant Commander Naseby, RNAS, sir. With the blimps down at Polegate. Moved there from Shoreham a few days ago.”
“Hawes-Parker. Are you one of the banking Nasebys?”
“Second son, sir. My elder brother has joined my father in the hallowed halls of the City – and is far better suited than I am to that life. My function in life is to be the cadet, available against need, you know, but making an existence in the Navy – and thoroughly enjoying myself.”
“Piloting one of those balloons? Not for me, Naseby!”
“It is like sailing one’s own yacht, sir, free from the constraints of a great ship. I was in Calliope, light cruiser, last, sir, and that offered nothing like the sensation of command that a blimp gives. Add to that, of course, there are only a few of us in the RNAS so promotion is far the quicker. I have command of the five ships at Polegate. On Calliope, I was one of eight watch-keeping officers.”
“Much to say for that, Naseby. Likely to stay at Polegate, are you?”
“Unpredictable, sir! Where there are submarines, we may be sent to chase them away. I am far too junior to know what may be planned, sir. Some of us must be kept here on the Channel coast, of a certainty.”
The old man – well past seventy at a guess – straightened with a hand to his aching back.
“You will be welcome here whenever you wish to drop in, Naseby. Time I got back to these roses.”
Peter accepted his dismissal, turned to Josephine hoping that he might see her again in the next week or two. She smiled and trusted that he would – she had few friends in Shoreham.
He walked back to the town, wondering just how soon he would be able to arrange a visit.
Josephine entered the house, finding her grandmother in her workroom, as she had expected.
“Embroidery again, Nanna?”
“Tapestry, my dear. Who is the handsome young man?” She glanced out of the window.
“He is, isn’t he, Nanna? Lieutenant Commander Peter Naseby, in charge of flying at Polegate and with his own balloon as well. I think it very likely he will be promoted again soon.”
“And able to take a wife?”
Josephine’s cheeks flamed scarlet – she had not suggested such a thing.
“Well, my dear?”
“Well, yes, Nanna, but he has been nothing but a gentleman – he ran into me in town and we took a luncheon together. I have met him twice before and I am sure it was nothing more than politeness on his part.”
“Young men do not give up hours of their time for politeness, Josephine. He remained in your company because he wanted to.”
The colour flared again.
“He is of a good family, if he is of the Nasebys I know.”
“Grandfather asked if they were bankers and he said they were.”
“That’s them. Even a second son of theirs is worth getting your hooks into, my dear.”
“But, Nanna, I am doing no such thing!”
“Not intentionally, perhaps, my dear. No need for you to worry about a husband this next year or two in any case. If you fancy this one, you could do far worse. What did your father say in his last letter from Washington?”
She was surprised by the apparent change of topic.
“Just that he is busy there. Much to do with wartime purchasing and such but he has time for a social life. Not a town for balls, it would seem, but frequent dinner parties and musical evenings and such. He mentioned a Mrs Mortlake, a widowed lady, who commonly acts as his partner to make up the numbers at dinner.”
“I suspect she may be more than that to him, my dear. He might well be considering marrying again. His last letter to us hinted at the possibility. That could be awkward for you.”
“I had thought to join him in Washington, Nanna. It is possible to cross to Boulogne – there are supposed to be no civilian passengers but that can be overcome – and then take a train to the south of France and another along the coast to Barcelona. Then a neutral ship from Cadiz to New York is said to be perfectly safe. A long journey but not too difficult for us to arrange. I spoke to Cecelia Parker and she told me her brother and his wife had done the same only recently.”
“Oh! Did she perhaps explain why?”
It had not occurred to Josephine to ask.
“I wonder why a young man might choose to leave his country in time of war, Josephine.”
Josephine was silent a few seconds, was forced to answer.
“It sounds rather discreditable, does it not, Nanna. I do not know the family has business interests in America. They are very comfortable, I know, owning a deal of land locally. I remember Cecelia saying they possessed a ranch in Texas as well. Perhaps they have gone there.”
The old lady snorted, said no more on the topic.
“If my father is considering another wife in Washington, then a grown-up daughter joining him might be by way of a hindrance, do not you think, Nanna?”
“I fear so, my dear. Better you should stay in England. You can remain with us until you are of age, that will be no problem. After that, you inherit from your mother – not a lot, a small house and farm in the country behind Petersfield, not so far from Portsmouth, and an income sufficient to live on. You can be comfortable there with a horse or two and a quiet way of life. You do not have to hunt for a husband. That is not to say you should turn one down if a proper man comes your way.”
“Such as Peter Naseby?”
“He is one of many who will cross your path, my dear. If you feel you can love him, then he has much to recommend him. If not, send him on his way!”
She was left with much to think about, spent an hour in her room, pondering, came down to dinner with no decision taken other than that it was far too soon to send Peter Naseby on his way. She was quite upset at the prospect of doing so, she discovered, and chose not to pursue that line of thought any further.
The wind eased, as had been predicted and the five blimps entered into a regime of patrolling, busy in their stretch of the Channel.
At the end of ten long days none had seen anything other than the ships they had convoyed.
Troughton addressed them before dinner, bright and fresh in front of their tired faces.
“We have logged up just over four hundred hours of patrolling, gentlemen – which is good going in so few days. In that time, there have been no losses of ships in our sector. Not one of the ships we have convoyed has been hit. As well, there has been little submarine activity reported to our east, due, certainly, to you forcing them to remain underwater for the whole of their days. The submarines have been spotted out in the Western Approaches. They have not managed to penetrate the Channel. Dover and Harwich patrols both report the normal level of activity in the North Sea, so they are not staying home – they are simply keeping clear of us. Total success, gentlemen! In a normal week, one ship at least would have been lost in our part of the Channel and two or three might have reported sightings or unsuccessful attacks. Nothing!”