Decoy Read Online Free Page A

than debonair, thought Ned. Another ten years and he’ll be combing his hair across the crown of his head to disguise the pink skin showing through like a maiden’s blush, and telling himself that the bright light over the shaving mirror, not Nature, is to blame.
    ‘Coffee?’
    Ned shook his head. It was too early for Camp coffee poured from a bottle… For a man brought up on French coffee made in the French way, the artificial substitutes made unpleasant alternatives.
    ‘Don’t be too sure. Tell him, Joan.’
    ‘One of the merchant ships in your convoy was so delighted by the way you found that U-boat that the captain presented a case of Brazilian coffee beans to the convoy boys in Liverpool. They had the decency to send half of it down to us. Seems merchant ships stock up with the scarce items when they visit places like Brazil. Pity there was no ship in the convoy from New York: I could have done with a few more pairs of silk stockings.’ She looked down at her legs and raised her skirt an inch or two.
    ‘They’re silk,’ Watts said.
    ‘Yes,’ Joan said matter-of-factly, ‘but they don’t last for ever.’
    ‘I bet Jemmy doesn’t know where you got those.’
    ‘You always say you only bet on certainties, sir,’ Joan said demurely. ‘Jemmy’s glad to be allowed to inspect them.’
    ‘Well, we can all do that,’ Watts observed.
    ‘Can you?’
    Ned pictured Joan, wearing only black silk stockings and perhaps a matching brassière, a carefully hoarded pre-war French one (what did they call those special ones? Slings?).
    ‘Very well, I’ll have some coffee,’ he said. ‘Black.’
    ‘And you, sir?’
    ‘Black for me, too, but not shiny,’ Watts said, and Ned knew he had not been alone in his fantasy. A glance at Joan showed she too knew the thoughts going through their minds.
    ‘Two blacks,’ she said and walked over to plug in the battered electric kettle. She flicked on the switch. ‘And when you’re near a shop that sells children’s chemistry sets, we need some new filter papers for these.’ She gestured at the small metal coffee filters.
    ‘How about grinding the beans?’ Watts asked anxiously, and explained to Ned: ‘I happened to have an old coffee grinder in the flat, but the lid can fly off. Makes an awful mess.’
    ‘He speaks as though he cleans it up,’ Joan said sarcastically.
    ‘More respect, Third Officer Barclay, or I’ll report to the Boss Wren that one of her eggs is addled.’
    ‘If she knew one of her precious chicks was — ’
    ‘Yes?’ Watts inquired as Joan paused. ‘You know a surprising amount about periscopes for a Wren who has never served at sea.’
    A blushing Joan gathered up the mugs. ‘I must go and wash up.’
    As the door shut behind her, Ned took a deep breath and before Watts had time to say anything said: ‘I want to apply for sea duty, sir.’
    ‘Very well, all such applications have to be in writing, as you know. Address it to me and leave it with Joan.’
    Captain Watts was far too affable: he was speaking in a mild ‘Knock and it shall be opened unto you’ tone. Or had Ned misjudged the whole situation and would Watts in fact be glad to get rid of him? Had the convoy business been a naval success but, because of the revelation about the duplicity of the ‘neutral’ Swedes, a diplomatic disaster?
    ‘So I’ll get back to sea, sir?’
    ‘Oh no,’ Watts said cheerfully. ‘I shall reply that your application is dismissed — I’ll probably use some polite phrase like “cannot be acceded to”, which is the sort of bashi-bazouk babu jargon patented by the Civil Servants. Anyway, why the hurry to leave ASIU?’
    Ned shrugged his shoulders. ‘I just want to get back to sea, sir. After all, that’s what I’m trained for.’
    ‘Listen,’ Watts said, suddenly impatient, ‘the way you waded through the dockets and finally solved that convoy business has got you a DSC. It took less than a month. If you’d been at sea in one of the