A Dawn Like Thunder by Douglas Reeman

looked at her impassively. ‘Ah, Victoria. You’ve got something?’
    She crossed the office to his desk. ‘I have just decoded it, sir.’ She looked quite shocked, without her usual self-assurance.
    â€˜But you know what it says?’ He softened his voice slightly. ‘Come on, Victoria. I’m not a mind-reader.’
    For an instant, but no longer, her tawny eyes flashed with anger.
    She said, ‘It’s addressed to you, sir. Restricted.’
    It was brief. He could almost feel her watching him as he read it.
    He said, ‘Lieutenant-Commander Ross’s father has been killed in a salvage accident.’
    There was a long silence. Then she asked, ‘Will you tell him, sir, or . . . ?’
    He toyed with the idea of offering her a drink, and dismissed it just as quickly.
One jump ahead. Never forget.
    It would not do. At any enquiry, let alone a court martial, the gesture might well be seen as something very different.
    He said, ‘Can you keep a secret?’ He saw her flinch as if he had sworn at her. ‘Until Operation
Emma
is over, one way or another? There’s nothing he can do, and it might deflect his attention from the job in hand. You do see that.’
    â€˜I – I suppose so, sir.’
    Pryce began to relax very slightly. The chink in the armour. ‘You saw and heard them in Ops this evening. You were there. They’re depending on him, surely you must have seen that?’
    She stared at the signal on his desk as if it were something obscene. ‘I shall tell nobody, sir.’
    He said, ‘Not even the Colonel.’
    She looked at him, calm again, defiant, the Victoria he trusted. ‘No, not even my father, sir.’
    The door closed and after a momentary hesitation he put a match to the signal and let it burn to ashes.
    The girl stood on the wet pathway and looked at the moon. Then she heard footsteps and saw a white figure looming out of the darkness. It was the new sub-lieutenant, Peter Napier. There was some special link between him and Ross, but she could not decide what it was.
    He asked brightly, ‘Have you seen Lieutenant-Commander Ross, my dear?’
    So young, she thought, so very young, not like the others, who were young only in years.
    She shook her head. ‘No. He’s not with Captain Pryce.’
    â€˜They’re all waiting for him.’ He sounded lost, suddenly unsure, and she recalled Pryce’s incisive voice as if he had just spoken.
They’re depending on him, surely you must have seen that?
    â€˜I was wondering. When this stunt is over, perhaps we could have a run ashore together?’
    She was glad he could not see her face. He seemed to be doing quite well with the Wren who had sat beside him at the meeting. Perhaps anyone would do.
    She said coolly, ‘We’ll have to see.’ Then she turned impulsively and added, ‘Good luck with
Emma.
We’ll all be thinking of you.’
    She watched him melt away. Another hero? Or another telegram?
    She considered Pryce again. So cold, so certain of everything. He always referred to her father as ‘The Colonel’. So that she should never be allowed to forget.
    She heard noisy singing from the wardroom, and wondered if Ross was there with his soft-spoken friend, the other new arrival, Villiers.
    Somebody else was hurrying in that direction: it was her superior, Second Officer Clarke.
    â€˜Glad I caught you, Victoria. Can you hold the fort for me for a couple of hours? I’ll fix it with Base Operations.’ She could barely contain her excitement as she faced towards the singing.
    â€˜Of course, ma’am.’ Who would she be sleeping with next? She never seemed to have any trouble.
    She watched the other woman continue towards the wardroom; she was almost running.
    Then she stared into the greater darkness where even the lights would not reach.
What is wrong with me?
Some heavy drops of warm rain fell on her shirt. She