The White Guns (1989) (35 page)

The Hamburg-Amerika Line chief steward stepped from an overloaded bus and hurried across the road which led all the way south to Hamburg.

'Not here yet?' He wore a hat, pulled down over his eyes so that he looked furtive, guilty even.

Ginger said airily,' 'E'll be 'ere. After that it's up to you, Oskar, me old china.'

'I do what I can.' Oskar watched the road. It was shining with a light drizzle. Unusual for the time of year. He added, 'She is what
you
call a countess. Of old family, von Lorenz, from East Prussia.'

None of it meant a thing to Ginger and his friends. She was a German, and needed them more than they did her. That's how they had to think of it anyway. A few deals with someone who knew the market, then pull out of it and roll on demob.

'Christ, here he is too!' Rae sounded surprised for once.

'See?'
Ginger felt his muscles relax slightly. There had been a few moments when he thought he had made a bad blunder. Once, when a jeep full of nosy redcaps had cruised towards them, he had even thought that Lowes had panicked and then gone squealing to Meikle and shopped them.

The car stopped and Lowes got out, pausing to say something to the driver. Then he laughed and waved elaborately as the car drove away. When he turned towards them they saluted as if the meeting was a pure accident.

Craven whispered, 'Jesus, look at 'im! Pissed as a fart!'

Ginger bit his lip. 'Easy lads. Let me 'andle this.'

Craven glowered. 'Bloody welcome, mate!'

Lowes adjusted his cap and surveyed them cheerfully. 'And who is
this?'

'This is Oskar, sir. Good bloke, 'ated the
Nasties,
an' respects all British officers!'

Ginger breathed out slowly. He really was pissed, otherwise even Snow White would have seen they were having a go at him.

Lowes eyed the ex-steward severely. 'Good man. Now about this countess –'

Ginger did not have time to withdraw the offer, to make some excuse to keep Lowes out of it until he was sober. He had never seen him like this before.

But Oskar said quickly, 'The house around the corner, sir. I take you.' He shot an anxious glance at the others. 'Okay?'

Ginger asked carefully, 'Bin celebratin', sir?'

Lowes turned his gaze on him with some difficulty. 'My mother got married today.'

So that was it. Ginger saw Rae about to make some suitable remark and shook his head. It was not the time.

Lowes nodded several times. 'I hope they –' He did not finish it.

'Lead on.' He glanced at the three sailors. How simple it was to take charge. Always complaining, but when it came right down to it, they had to come crying to an officer.

He thought of the army club he had visited after leaving the wardroom. He could not remember clearly how many drinks he had consumed; he did not much care any more.

He had seen Fairfax in the mess but had avoided him. Ever since the firing-squad he had been like a duck in a thunderstorm. The comparison made him giggle.
I'd have shot the bastard single-handed if I'd been there.
At this moment, he even believed that.

He realised that Oskar had led him up the steps of a once-imposing residence. Half of the building had been boarded up after being bombed, but the door opened smartly enough at Oskar's knock, and a burly servant regarded them both with suspicion.

Lowes thought he looked more like a boxer than a butler.

The big man shut the door and ushered them into a room which despite the daylight outside was all in shadow.

It had a faintly musty smell, and Lowes noticed that the chairs and sofas were of dark red velvet; well, pre-war, he thought vaguely.

He was feeling very dry, and his head was throbbing painfully. If only there was more light. He sat down gingerly on the nearest sofa while Oskar prowled around the room like a caged cat.

Lowes could hear the throb of music and decided the house was larger than he had imagined.

Oskar said, 'She is coming, sir.'

Sir. The right sort of respect.
Lowes got to his feet and almost fell over. But as the door opened and the woman came into the room he managed to recover his wits enough to say, 'Countess von Lorenz, I believe!'

The countess was tall and slim and dressed all in black. She even wore a wide-brimmed black hat, so that in the shadows it was impossible to determine either her features or her age. Her hair, what Lowes could see of it, was blonde, almost silver in the dull light. She was smoking a cigarette and even managed to make that look elegant and relaxed.

She remarked, 'You are very young.' Her accent was strong but her English easy for Lowes to follow. 'What may I call you? Your first name?'

Lowes was taken aback. He had expected formality, with him controlling the conversation. The British officer and the impoverished aristocrat. He stammered, 'My name is John, but –'

'Sit down, John.' She sat on the sofa and crossed her legs.

Lowes knew his mother's expensive tastes and recognised the stockings as pure silk, war or no war. In England they were just a memory. He seated himself beside her, suddenly very aware of her perfume, the nearness of her body.

She said, 'You have had some bad times in the war, ja?' She laid one hand on his knee.

Lowes stared at her hand, unable to move and barely able to answer. 'Well, yes, as a matter of fact. But you learn to master fear –' It was surprising how easily the lie came out, to be followed by others. 'I've seen some horrible things, Countess.'

Her hand moved along his thigh.
'Nein!
Call me Elisabeth!'

Lowes gasped, 'I want – I thought –' What was happening? He could do nothing. The pressure of her hand seemed to burn through his uniform, while with the other she continued to smoke her cigarette, her eyes hidden by the brim of her hat.

She stood up quite suddenly. 'You will have a drink perhaps?'

Lowes nodded dumbly. At least it would give him time to think. He watched her as she moved with effortless ease to a cabinet and produced a decanter and glasses.

When she sat down again he fumbled with her arm but with the same easy grace she removed his hand while she poured the drinks.

She said softly, 'No, John. I am not for you. Partners maybe when we know each other,
ja?
Just a little better.' She offered the glass, her eyes watching and judging his disappointment as his blurred mind grappled with the new developments.

'I have someone for you in my house.' As Lowes made to lower the glass she took his wrist and lifted it again while she waited for him to drink.

'Have no fear, John.
Trust
me. It is
safe,
you understand?'

Lowes felt the drink running through him. Like nothing he had ever tasted, sweet and yet fiery. He was sure it was clearing his head and not adding to his earlier discomfort.

He thought suddenly of his mother and that brute.
Married.
What did marriage count? He must have had her whenever he wanted to, long before this.

The countess was on her feet again. She spoke quietly, but the door opened immediately. Lowes half-expected to see Oskar, but he had gone somewhere. Instead it was the burly manservant.

She touched Lowes's lips with her fingers. 'Karl will take care of you.'

Lowes swayed and might have fallen but for the man's iron grip on his arm.

He felt cheated, out of his depth. On top of the wedding ... Then as the man led him from the room he saw several officers' caps lying on a table. All army, but it made him feel safer.

She called after him, 'My home is yours, John. We will talk later.'

Up some stairs and along a passageway. The music was more muffled now, and the drink made him feel light on his feet.

A door opened and closed behind him and he saw the girl standing by a window.

She was very young, with short blonde hair. Her eyes were heavily made-up, so that she looked gentle, like a fawn. She wore a plain, silk gown with a gold chain around her waist. Her feet were bare.

Lowes had never touched a girl in his life, and after joining the navy had always been terrified by the stories of catching some terrible disease from a contact. The sailors joked about it.
Getting a dose. Catching the boat up. Having a full house.
They took great pleasure from it if he was within earshot. Even some officers who spoke of Rose
Cottage,
a nickname for the officers' VD hospital, as if it was all a huge joke. He swallowed hard, his pulses racing. 'What is your name?'

She did not answer but crossed the room and took his hand, like a child leading another child.

They sat side by side on the bed and then she put her arms around his neck and kissed him on the mouth. It did not stop and he found he was clutching her shoulders through the thin robe, returning her kiss even harder, his mind reeling as her tongue darted between his teeth.

She was kneeling on the floor, although he did not see her move. She took off his shoes and socks and kissed his feet. She began to undress him, touching him confidently while she worked, so that he could feel his body rising to her. There was another blank, and he was on his back, quited naked while he tried to see what she was doing. She came to bed very slowly, her eyes on him the whole time. Then she stooped over him and kissed him once again.

Lowes thought his mind would burst. He tugged the gold chain away and reached up through the thin robe to discover an erection to match his own.

He knew he should have been shocked, disgusted, but he was far beyond that now. The boy slipped out of the robe and lay down beside him while they explored each other like lovers.

Around the corner in the adjoining street the three sailors waited for Oskar to report on progress.

Ginger asked, 'Where is 'e?'

Oskar turned up the collar of his threadbare coat and looked at the steady drizzle. He was thankful to be out here, even in the rain.

'He is staying there. With the countess.'

Craven growled, 'Hold on, chummy, that's not what we planned!'

Ginger eyed the German shrewdly. 'Bent, is she?'

'Bent?'

Ginger exclaimed, 'Fer Gawd's sake don't keep repeatin' everythin' I say! I
mean,
was it all a bloody lie?'

'No.' Oskar looked at him unhappily. 'She has much influence. But the officer is maybe
too young, ja?'

'Then wot's 'e doin' right now?'

Rae tossed down a cigarette and stepped into the road as he saw an army lorry splashing through the drizzle.

'It's goin' our way. Let's cadge a lift.' He sighed as the lorry began to pull over. 'Oskar means that your trusted officer-pal is having it off with some tart while we stand here like whores at a christening!'

Oskar looked for his bus. It did not harm at all to let them believe the officer was with a woman.

He said, 'There will be other times.'

The soldier driving the Bedford lorry yelled, 'Wot's up, lads, lost yer boat?' He banged the side.' 'Op in, I'm going' all the way to Kiel!'