Chapter 1

The door to the Pellew Division gunroom banged open as the Duty Cadet burst in. "Mail time!" he shouted, and was immediately mobbed by his term-mates eager to find out if they had news from home. "I say, steady chaps. Give me room!", he yelled. He started calling out the names of the Cadets who had letters, "Spiller... Brackenbury... Goodwin, you lucky beast, you've got three... Hannagan... What's this? 'Cadet (Commodore) J Walker'? Who's had an early promotion then?"

John felt his face burning red as he took the letter. There was only one person who would address an envelope to him like that and he did not want to share a letter from her with anyone else. When all the mail had been distributed he found a quiet place at one of the long tables and once he was sure no-one was taking any notice of him carefully slit open the envelope and took out three surprisingly neatly written sheets. In the past letters from Nancy were single pages that somehow acquired a battered and well-worn look before they got as far as the post box. These were clean and only featured a few small blots. John's thought was either she was growing up or she had acquired a new fountain pen.

He started to read.

Dear John,

Sorry I haven't replied to your last two letters. Things have been a bit hectic for the last few weeks and there has not been time to sit still and write. I hope this will explain what's been going on.

A few days after I last wrote (John smiled at this for Nancy had only written once since he had been at the Naval College) Mother received a letter from the GA. In it she said she was ill and wanted to see us all as soon as possible. She has claimed to be ill before and had everyone running around her like mad things but this was the first time she has asked for us all meaning me and Peggy as well. Uncle Jim even telephoned ahead to book a hotel for a few nights as it takes for ever to get to Harrogate and back and it can't be done in a day.

We all trailed off to Yorkshire with Mother worrying about what would happen if GA was really ill and decided to come to Beckfoot and have us nurse her. Uncle Jim said he'd put his foot down and not permit it, but if he did it would be the first time ever he stood up to GA!

When we got there GA really did look in a bad way. There was a nurse fussing round her constantly tweaking the bedclothes and checking the old dragon was alright. She was sitting up in bed wrapped in blankets and shawls and wearing a ridiculous lace mob cap, and her skin looked grey and sort of transparent. For once she was nice as pie to us and explained in a strange quavery voice (do I really mean quavery or is that something to do with music?) that she thought this really was the end and did not expect to be around much longer. Of course Mother and Uncle Jim made all the right noises telling her she had years to go yet etc. GA told them to shut up, (John did not for one moment believe those were the actual words used) she had enjoyed a full life and she was prepared for the end. Then she spoke to me and Peg. She explained that she might have been a bit hard on us in the past but during the last time she stayed at Beckfoot had realised we were good girls at heart and appreciated how we put ourselves out to ensure she was comfortable. (John rightly assumed this was when the Ds had to stay in the Dog's Home to avoid the GA) As she had no other young family members she had changed her will and left the house in Harrogate jointly to the two of us. She waffled on about other legal stuff but that was the essence of it.

Peggy and I were a bit taken aback at that. I'd expected her to leave everything to a fund for gentlewomen in straitened circumstances or something. We didn't stay too long as she said she was getting tired. Mother and Uncle J visited her again the next day and said she seemed a little better so we all visited again then trundled back north.

A few days later we had a telegram saying she had passed away and Uncle Jim had to ensure her final instructions were carried out. Poor thing, he had to sort out her funeral arrangements and all that. Of course we had to go back to Harrogate for that. A load of her old cronies were there all looking like characters from a Dickens novel and fussing over Peg and me. Wanting to get their greedy paws on our money I bet.

Later we met the GA's "man of affairs" as she always called him, naturally she was far too grand to have a mere solicitor. He explained the conditions of her will. The house will remain in a trust thing for us until we are both 25 but we can either live in it or rent it out but not sell it until then. Why would we want to live in Harrogate? It's full of old people and miles from any decent sailing! He suggested he should find a tenant and we can have the profit from the rent, after he takes various fees etc – typical bloodsucking lawyer.

That's enough about us. What about you? Are they still running you ragged at Dartmouth? Your drill instructor sounds like the games mistress at our school who only seemed happy when we were suffering. I'm really envious of all those boats you have down there. Why won't they allow women to join the Navy? Is it because they're afraid we would be better at it than the men?

Congratulations on doing so well in the swimming gala. Those swims round Wild Cat Island were of some use then. Do you have sailing competitions? You'll be a dead certain winner if they do.

I know this should be like every other time when we've been apart during term time but this time I'm really missing you. I want to hear your voice and feel you close to me. Please write again soon. I want to hear all those silly little snippets about what you get up to. It makes it more real and helps me visualise what you are up to. John Walker I miss you.

All my love,

Nancy

P.S. Peggy sends her love.

P.P.S. So does Mother

John felt a little breathless after reading it, Nancy could be very sparing with her use of commas at times. He re-read the letter, then re-read the last paragraph again and felt his eyes misting up. He bit his lower lip, hard, then carefully refolded the pages, put them back in the envelope and tucked it into the inner pocket of his jacket. Later he would ensure it was locked safely away in his sea chest.

In a moment his mind was far from the spartan, white painted gunroom in south Devon. He was back beside the great lake in the north, with the water sparkling in the sun, the high fells forming a green and purple backdrop, and a dark-haired, sun-tanned girl close by his side. This was a favourite image, and one that came to him whenever he thought of Nancy.

Since that last evening in the Beckfoot boathouse he had thought of Nancy rather a lot. Nancy in her customary "comfortables" of shorts and shirt. Nancy in the grey and red of her school uniform, and even Nancy in her bathers. The thought of this last image made him redden again.

The Duty Cadet's voice broke through his reverie, "Come on Walker, stop day-dreaming and get a move on! We've got seamanship with old Bryson in ten minutes. You know he'll take it out on the whole class if anyone's late."

The moment was gone. It was time to start thinking of blake-slips and joggle-shackles again. Reluctantly John pushed the thoughts of the older Blackett sister to the back of his mind, grabbed his cap and followed the rest of the class to their lesson.

Author's note:

In naval parlance a gunroom is the living space for junior officers, not a place to store weapons.