A Friendly Demonstration
Chapter 42
It was Wednesday afternoon before Jen had a chance to talk to PFC Hawkes. Harm, to his immense irritation, had been called across to speak with the Rear Admiral Taylor, the Defence Attaché and the meeting had run late. As a consequence, Libby Hawkes, neatly dressed in tailored pants and a cream cotton blouse, parked herself on one of the two chairs outside Harm's office. Julia had secured a few minutes ago, leaving Jen and Beth alone.
"How's the new assignment?" Jen asked casually.
"Pretty good, Petty Officer, thank you!" Libby smiled in reply.
"The Captain not being too hard a taskmaster?" Jen asked with a grin.
The smile left Libby's face, "No… he's a great guy… I can understand now why my Aunt was half in love with him over the years…"
Jen had noted the change in the girl's expression, "But you're not all that happy?"
"Oh, no, I'm happy with the detail, it's a lot easier than some of the jobs over at the company, but it just feels a little weird… you know? Not having as much direction as I'm used to."
"In what way?" Jen asked.
"Well… for a start, it's up to me to make sure the car's gassed up, that it's on top line. And if it's not, then it's up to me to get the mechanics to fix it and tell the motor transport sergeant that I need a replacement. And the Captain just says, 'Pick me up at zero seven-thirty,' or whatever. So he tells me what to do, but now how to do it."
She gave a helpless little laugh. "It probably sounds kinda strange to you, but I'm not used to it, and it's kinda… unsettling. And another thing, he doesn't really tell me to do anything, it's more like he's just asking…"
"H'mm… Well don't forget that when he's 'just asking' a request from a senior officer has the same weight as an order," Jen reminded her.
"Oh, no. No, I won't forget that ever. But especially in the mornings when he's in civvies and when he's so polite about everything, it's sometimes hard to remember that he's an officer."
"For God's sake, and for your sake, don't ever forget that! The Captain is an officer, always. He has maybe a little more understanding and empathy with the enlisted than most, but don't make the mistake of crossing the line with him. He must always be 'sir' when spoken to and always 'the Captain', when spoken about!" Jen said earnestly.
"Oh, I know, Petty Officer! I know. I e-mailed my Aunt Beth – she used to fly with him – when he made me his second driver, and I got a zinger of an e-mail back from her. It really laid down in black and white, and in much stronger terms than you've been using, exactly how I need to behave!" Libby Hawkes grinned, "You know, Petty Officer, the Navy and the Corps could make my life pretty uncomfortable if I screw the pooch on this job. But believe me, I'd rather face them than my Aunt Beth if I let the Captain, my family or myself down!"
Jen relaxed. She was half amused that the PFC was more afraid of her aunt than the combined might of the US Navy and Marine Corps allied to the UCMJ, but she had never had to take family into account after her mother died, 'What do I know?' she asked herself.
If she had been about to say more the opportunity was lost as Harm strode across the bull-pen. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Hawkes." He apologised as she jumped to her feet, "Belay that! I'll just be ten minutes and then we can get out of here!"
Libby turned helplessly to Jen, "See?"
"Yeah, I see. But don't forget what I – and your aunt – said!" Jen smiled.
"No danger of that!" Libby grinned.
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PFC Hawkes checked her reflection in the full length mirror just inside the barracks door. Like all the USMC E1-E3 pay grades her accommodation was an old RAF Barrack Block at Northolt. The barracks had been built in the nineteen thirties and were two storey red brick buildings laid out in an H shape, with each arm of the H containing a twelve bed squad bay and with half a dozen single cabins on each floor, together with the necessary showers, baths and washing and laundry facilities. Although they had been modernised and had central heating they weren't up to the standard of the permanent Marine Corps barracks at Quantico, or Eighth and I in DC, but they were comfortable enough she told herself. And each storey came fitted with a full length mirror just so that an airman, or now a Marine, could check his or her appearance and bearing before venturing out into the open and perhaps running afoul of an eagle-eyed SNCO.
But this evening Libby was satisfied with her appearance. In her Dress Blues, with pants, rather than a skirt, and with her hair tightly bound up in a French Braid she looked every inch the poster girl for recruitment to the Corps.
Of course, she'd had to put up with her buddies' teasing as she prepared for the evening, especially as it was a Friday and a mixed group of about ten had expressed the intention of trying the hospitality of the landlord of The Middlesex Arms, a local pub, just the other side of the railroad bridge a mere ten minutes' walk from the main gates. Not that Libby was too bothered. Sure she liked a beer or two on occasion, but she couldn't get on with traditional British beer, and the continental style lagers that were the alternative just didn't taste right to her, so she was just as happy to be driving the Captain this evening!
Finally she gave a satisfied nod at her reflection in the mirror, carefully placed her cover on her head and almost skipped down the stairs and out to the parking bat and the waiting pool car. The car was as sharply presented as herself, she had spent most of the afternoon washing and waxing the vehicle and had then given it another wipe down after taking the Captain home. Now, it was as about as clean as it was going to get, and silently thanking whichever of the spirits was responsible, she cast an appreciative look up at the clear, but already darkening late afternoon fall sky.
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Hawkes was right on time, Harm noted approvingly, as he looked at his watch just as the motor pool car drew up outside his quarters, and picking up his cover from the hall table, he let himself out of the house and walked briskly down the path to where Hawkes held the rear passenger door open for him.
Harm raised an interrogatory eyebrow at the young woman, who reddened slightly but said, "Seeing as how you'll be travelling with a companion, sir. I thought it might be more comfortable for you in back."
Harm nodded, "Good thinking, Hawkes!" and settled himself on the back seat and waited until the young Marine had slipped back behind the wheel again before he asked, "And you know, where we're going?"
"Yes, sir!" Libby looked up into the rear-view mirror to meet Harm's gaze. "Wellesley Road, Chiswick, where we are to RV with Petty Officer Martinez and her passengers, and then onto Portsmouth, Royal Navy Base, sir!"
"Correct! And do you know how to get to Chiswick and then to Portsmouth, Hawkes?"
Libby pointed to the small display, screen mounted next to the rear-view mirror, "I took Petty Officer Martinez's advice, sir. Got myself a SatNav. I've already input the destinations, so we're good to go, whenever you say, sir!"
Harm smiled, "Okay, Hawkes, let's roll!"
Hawkes grinned and smoothly engaged gears, "Aye, aye, sir!"
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Gill checked that she had transferred her ID and credit cards from her usual handbag to the clutch bag that went with her Mess Dress, and although satisfied with the fit of the uniform she wished she could have got away with wearing an evening dress. Not that she'd be the only commissioned woman at the ball in uniform, far from it, but she had a shrewd suspicion that she'd be the only female army officer present, and she already knew that Lieutenant Sullivan's Mess Dress wasn't too dissimilar to the Royal Navy's version… well, at least it was Navy Blue!
Her mental grumblings were ended by a respectful tap at her bunk door, "Yes?"
"Your driver's arrived, ma'am!"
"Thank you, Masters," Gill acknowledged the mess orderly's message, and picked up her clutch bag, then with a final look around her room to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything, locked the door behind her and tread carefully downstairs to the front door, lifting the hem of her skirt so that she didn't trip over it. A grin creased her face as she wondered how ladies, in their hooped crinolines, had coped with these self-same stairs when the Mess had been built back in the 1860's!
"Good evening, Yeoman Two!" she smiled at Julia who looked slightly surprised that Gill had remembered the Navy protocol. Not that she'd have resented been addressed as Petty Officer, but it was flattering when an army officer, particularly a foreign army officer, went to the trouble of getting even minor points of etiquette right.
"Good evening, ma'am!" Julia responded with her usual friendly smile as she opened the rear door.
Gill settled herself, carefully smoothing her skirt as she sat down while Julia, immaculately presented in her best Service Dress Blues, scurried around to the driver's door and climbed back in behind the wheel.
"All secure, ma'am?" she asked.
"Absolutely!" Gill smiled, "So… whenever you're ready?"
"Yes, ma'am!" Julia enthused and with a smile she leaned forward and tapped the SatNav mounted on the dashboard, "Wellesley Road, to meet up with the Captain, ma'am, and then on to Portsmouth!"
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Harm and PFC Hawkes arrived first at the apartment building in Wellesley Road, but not by much. Theresa Sullivan had barely opened the apartment door for Harm when the entry door buzzer sounded again and with a slightly apologetic smile, she broke off her greeting to thumb the switch that opened the building main door.
Hark took the opportunity to cast a quick glance around the flat. It was neat and tidy without being fussily so and bore the unmistakable signs that it was home to a couple, but as he'd told them weeks before, providing they kept their personal life out of the office he didn't care what their living arrangements were.
His visual check of the room complete Harm turned his attention to his two Lieutenants, both were immaculately turned out – Harm would have been very much surprised and disappointed had that not been the case, but then turned as Gill paused on the threshold.
Her warm smile, directed at Harm was not missed by either Sullivan or Tierney, who exchanged a quick amused glance before they turned their attention back to their CO, "Captain Shephard, may I present to you Lieutenant Theresa Sullivan and Lieutenant Brian Tierney, both of the US Navy, who have graciously consented to be our dates for this evening. Lieutenants, Captain Gillian Shephard, of the British Army's Royal Artillery."
Both Naval officers drew themselves up to a brace and both murmured, "Ma'am," in greeting.
"Oh, you mustn't call me that! From my study of NATO structure, we are the same rank, all O-Three!" Gull smiled, "So, it's Gill! Okay?"
Brian and Theresa exchanged loaded look and then Theresa said to Gill, "Okay… I'm Theresa, and this is Brian… but…" she shot a quick, sly look at Harm, "I think, that for the sake of proper decorum, the Captain had best remain 'sir'!"
"Good call, Theresa, we'll follow the Royal Artillery's example," Harm smiled, remembering the mode of address used by British officers at social meetings, and he briefly explained how in the Gunners' Mess everyone was on first name terms, except for the Commanding Officer.
With any initial awkwardness dispelled, and with Gill secretly pleased – and a little surprised – that Harm had remembered some of the minutiae of mess etiquette she had glossed over so many weeks ago, Harm got the party moving, conducting Theresa to the car driven by Beth, while Brian lent his arm to Gill as they headed for Julia's car.
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Johnny whistled tunelessly as he sat down at the registry desk in RHQ and gloomily contemplated the pile of live filing that had been left for him as Duty Clerk. It was part of the Duty Clerk's job to go and make a tour of the Adjutant's, 2IC's and RSM's now empty offices, and retrieve the files on which those officers had been working, and update them with the latest letters, signals messages and notes that the RHQ clerks hadn't managed to fit into the working day.
It was a pain in the butt, but his memories of working in RHQ were sufficiently fresh for him to remember how frustrating it was to have a batch of filing to do while the needed files were being sat on by the officers. And he reflected, as he took a sip of the coffee he had just made, it was still a damn sight better than stagging it on the main gate, or even sitting up all night as the Guard Commander.
Friday night wasn't his favourite night for duty, there was always something extra to keep the Duty Clerk busy, like tonight there was draft copy of the new SOPs to be printed off, collated and bound into their folders, not a difficult job, especially with the computer printing that was so much easier and cleaner than the old Gestetner style rotary duplicators, but it was a time-consuming and mind-numbingly boring job, and if he finished much before twenty-two hundred, he'd be surprised. Still, he was lucky that Richie Hamilton had agreed to exchange the Saturday with the Friday duty, at least he and Julia would have Saturday and Sunday together, especially as she was also working tonight.
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Jen stood by the window, a mug of coffee in her hand and contemplated the teeming rain with a surly expression on her face. She had heard about the British weather, and in truth she had seen much heavier rain back in the States, but there was a particularly vicious, cold, damp wind behind this rain which gave it particularly effective penetrating power and by the time she had walked the ten minutes from the subway to home, she doubted that she had a dry stitch of clothing on her, despite her shower proof jacket, and in addition had felt chilled to the bone, the only remedy for which had been a hot bath, which she had lain in for so long that she had barely time to scramble into her clothes before Victor was at the door with a Chinese take-out and a bottle of white in his hands.
Now, dinner eaten and half the bottle of wine re-sealed and in the fridge for tomorrow, Jen was discontented as she watched the rain streaming diagonally across the window. Victor's voice, as he turned from drying the dinner dishes jerked her back to the here and now.
"So… did you get to speak with Hawkes this week?" he asked, a grin at Jen's sour expression barely lifting the corners of his mouth.
Jen turned away from the miserable scene outside the window, "Huh?" she asked.
"Did you get to speak with Hawkes about driving the Captain?" Victor asked again.
"Oh… oh… yes. I'm sorry, I'm not very good company this evening," Jen apologised with a half-smile as she moved towards one of the armchairs, only to be intercepted by Victor, who taking her hand gently tugged her towards him and then pulled her down on to his knee as he took possession of the other armchair.
"I'm, definitely going to have to get a couch from somewhere!" Jen said with a much better attempt at a smile, "We can't… you can't go on for ever with me perched on your knee!"
"I don't mind," Victor smiled as Jen rested her head against his shoulder, "I kinda like it, and you're not heavy."
"M'mm… maybe I need to be…" Jen paused, lifted her head from Victor's shoulder and grinned wickedly at him.
Victor saw and recognised the look of mischief and with a sigh of resignation grinned and said, "Go on, I can take it!"
"Or maybe you could do with putting on a few pounds… after all, I really like my butt the size and shape it is, but your knee is sooo bony…"
"So you want me to turn into some sort of lard-ass Army-style First Sergeant?" Victor said mournfully.
"H'mm… no… maybe not… so… it definitely looks like we need a couch. That being so…" Jen linked her hands behind Victor's neck and leaned back at arms' length, "Want to take a walk down to that second-hand furniture place tomorrow?"
"Yeah, okay… if it stops raining for five minutes!" Victor smiled bringing a groan of disgust from Jen. A groan which he promptly silenced by capturing her lips with his.
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The two cars had managed to keep in convoy all the way from Chiswick to Portsmouth, no mean feat, Julia smiled to herself, especially with a new driver leading. In retrospect it might have been wiser for Julia, as the more experienced driver to lead, after all, it was the lead vehicle's task not to lose contact with the vehicles behind it.
So there was a hint of relief in Libby's smile as she braked to a halt in front of the lowered barrier at the main gates of the Royal Navy Base Portsmouth, where she was approached by a sailor in what she automatically termed as the Brit equivalent of 'Crackerjacks'. However his uniform was complemented by white gaiters and white pistol belt and a whitened sling on the rifle he carried.
Libby wound down the driver's window as he approached, his rifle slung from his shoulder with the muzzle pointing down. The sentry's eyes took in the occupants of the car and he turned his attention to Libby, "ID's please?" he requested in a soft West Country accent
Libby handed him her own ID while Harm and Theresa brought their out and hand them forward. His eyes flickered from photos to faces and back again. He handed the IDs back to Libby and asked, "Where is it you're headed to?"
"Wardroom, HMS Nelson, for the Trafalgar Day Ball."
The reply seemed to have been the one the sailor expected and he smiled briefly, "Straight ahead and then take the third turning on the left. You'll see the wardroom from there, it's all lit up like a Christmas tree!"
Then bearing in mind the four rings he had seen on Harm's sleeve the sentry took a pace back, came to attention and performed a crisp 'Present Arms' as Libby engaged the gears and allowed the car to roll forward.
"Halt, here, please Hawkes, let's wait for the second car to clear the gate," Harm said.
In her rear view mirror Libby watched the Seaman approach the second car and after a brief conversation he once again stepped back, but rather than performing a Present Arms, he merely offered a butt-salute. Libby smiled, 'That's what happens when the officer is a Lieutenant instead of a Captain!' she thought, remembering that according to Johnny, in the British forces officers up to O-3 merited the salute while O-4 and above warranted the full Present Arms.
A slightly puzzled Julia Martinez pulled in behind Libby's car and in answer to Lieutenant Tierney's query as to why they had stopped, she met his eyes in the rear-view mirror, "I don't know, sir, but…"
"Well we're moving again," Gill observed as the lead car indicated and started to roll forward.
With a silent oath Julia re-engaged the car's gears and followed the lead vehicle down the main street from the base entrance.
As they reached the third turn to the left any questions of being given direction or playing follow the leader were rendered superfluous, dead ahead was the wardroom building, the front list by spotlights on the lawn and the porte-cochere festooned with more lights, under which at least half a dozen official looking cars were disgorging their passengers. Julia and Beth joined the line of cars waiting to move to the main door and as each car emptied, so it was directed to a parking area around the side of the building.
Libby dismounted first and hurried around to the near side passenger door, which she held open, delivering a smartly rendered salute as Harm unfolded his long legs and climbed out of the back of the vehicle and then turned to offer Theresa his hand as she too, careful of her full-length skirt, de-bussed. Only when he was satisfied that Theresa had her balance did Harm let go of her hand and return Libby's salute.
Stepping to one side Harm drew Theresa with him as Libby jumped back in the driver's seat and drove off, allowing Julia to draw up in front of the doors in her place. Once again, following Libby's example Julpia debussed, opened the passenger door and saluted as Brian Tierney and then Gill climbed out of the back seat.
The men twitched their cuffs and the ladies flicked at their skirts until finally, satisfied that all was in order Brian and Harm offered Gill and Theresa their respective arms, and as Beth drove off, the four visitors walked up the shallow flight of steps into the foyer where a white-gloved mess man stood ready to relive the officers of their covers, while another politely asked for their invitation cards, which he then passed to a deeply tanned Chief Petty Officer.
The Chief took the cards, glanced at them and then opened the doors to the reception room, "Captain Harmon Rabb, United States Navy and Lieutenant Teresa Sullivan, United States Navy, Captain Gillian Shephard Royal Artillery, Lieutenant Brian Tierney United States Navy!" he announced in leather lunged tones.
Harm stood still for a moment until he saw a Captain of the Royal Navy advance towards the party, a slightly younger woman in evening dress on his arm.
"Captain Rabb? Good, evening, Captain! I'm Captain Simon Houghton, your host for the evening. May I have the honour of presenting my wife, Rebecca?"
"Good evening, Captain, ma'am. May I, in turn present Lieutenant Theresa Sullivan, Captain Gillian Shephard and Lieutenant Brian Tierney!"
"Ladies, Lieutenant," Captain Houghton acknowledged the introductions and then grinned, shedding about twenty years in the process, Harm guessed. "Now that the formalities are done with, if you'd like to follow me?"
He led the party to one of many round tables, covered in snow-white and crisply ironed and starched linen and by the time the party had seated themselves another faultlessly turned out mess man, with a notepad and pencil in his was waiting to take their drinks order.
"A Plymouth gin for me, please," Captain Houghton, told the mess man and then, "Ladies?"
"I'll have a vodka and tonic, please," Gill answered, "and make it a long one – a very long one!" she cautioned the mess man who grinned at her caution and answered with a crisp, "Aye, aye, ma'am!"
Theresa Sullivan doubted whether a Royal Navy bar tender would be up to making a drinkable Manhattan and decided to follow Gill's example, right down to the detail of the drink being a very long one, while both Harm and Brian Tierney opted for a Bourbon with ice.
Once the drinks had been ordered Harm had leisure to look around. The room was, as he had expected, filled with men and women in the uniform of the Royal Navy but also, and also for the most part in Navy Blue, he could see the scarlet mess dress of the Royal Marines as well as representatives of practically every NATO Navy and a few that he suspected were Marines or Naval Infantry of those countries too. He shook his head in wry amusement. It appeared that not only had the US Navy's uniforms been heavily influenced by those of the Royal Navy, but so apparently had most of the Navies of Western Europe! But the uniforms weren't the only thing to catch his eye, above a stage at the far end of the room, a stage on which a string quartet of Royal marines Bandsmen were playing a selection of light classical music, hung a string of bunting. Harm was a sailor through and through and recognised what used to be termed a signal hoist, used for the passing of messages between warships before the days of radio, or even of signal lamps, but the individual flags themselves were a mystery, as were the two other, matching hoists that ran vertically to the floor from the ceiling at either end of the stage.
Turning to their host he asked, "I'm guessing that there's some significance to those flags?"
Houghton replied, "Indeed there is!" He smiled at the table in general, "Is there anyone who might care to take a guess as to their meaning?"
Gill laughed softly and shook her head, "No, not fair! I can read that hoist as easily as the menu! Let someone else have a go!"
Brian Tierney shook his head, "Beats me," he confessed with a slightly embarrassed grin.
"At a guess, I would say that the message reads, "England expects that every man shall do his duty'," Theresa Sullivan offered.
"Bravo!" Houghton answered. "And the other two hoists?"
When no-one else offered a suggestion Gill smiled and shook her head, saying in a stage whisper to Houghton, "Colonials, sir!" and then continued in her normal speaking voice, "'Engage the enemy more closely'?"
"Yes, that's it!"! Houghton grinned broadly and then gave Gill a more critical look, "Are you by any chance related to Jack Shephard?"
"The Captain or the Lieutenant, do you mean, sir? Not that it matters, the Captain was my grandfather and the Lieutenant is my brother; he's deployed at the moment, as Number One in the Defiant."
"Ah… actually the Defiant is no longer deployed, in fact she docked this morning…" Houghton told Gill.
"Why that, deceitful…"
"Darling brother of mine?" a lightly amused voice came from behind Gill.
Gill shot up from her chair, spun around and stared up in disbelief at the smiling countenance of a taller, slightly darker haired, and much more tanned face of a masculine version of herself.
"David Shephard!" she rapped out in an accusatory voce.
"Hello, Sissy!" he smiled fondly down into the eyes of his 'baby sister'.
Gill looked at him helplessly for a second, before she aid "Oh, damn you Davey!" and with her eyes sparkling she threw himself into his arms, which closed around her in a warm, comforting hug, while a female Lieutenant RN stood slightly uncertainly off to one side a little.
Harm exchanged an amused look with David Houghton, who wore a tolerant grin and waited until brother and sister had finished their hug before greeting the newcomer, "Good evening Shephard, how did you get an invitation? You only docked this morning!"
"Good evening, sir! Yes, I had to beg the skipper for the evening, and then it was just a simple matter of bribing the headquarters Jaunty!"
Houghton looked at him, "Now, why don't I have any trouble in believing that! Come and have a seat, Shephard, and your charming companion too!"
"Thank you, sir, for reminding me of my manners, may I present to you, sir, Lieutenant Abigail Cowan. Abi, Captain Houghton, who looked after me so well at Dartmouth!"
"Sir," Lieutenant Cowan replied demurely, but with a look of almost adoration at David Shephard, causing Harm, after a moment's surprise at hearing the young woman's name, to raise his eyebrows in surprise as he looked at Gill, only to be met with an admonitory frown.
With the assistance of a willing mess man two additional chairs were procured and the augmented party settled down to enjoy the evening. Not unnaturally Gill was eager to introduce her brother to Harm who took the other's offered hand in a mutually firm grip, "So, sir… you're Gill's sailor? I've heard a lot about you – not all of it from Gill, you also managed to impress Grandma, which is not an easy thing to do!"
"So she sent you to spy on us to make sure I'm not being beaten?" Gill teased him.
"God forbid!" David Shephard replied, "I pity any man foolish enough to raise a hand to you! I'll have you know, sir," he added in a conspiratorial aside to Harm, "That Gill wasn't always as sweet as she now appears to be. She used to beat me up regularly when we kids!"
"Huh! As if you didn't deserve it!" Gill huffed, but with a twinkle in her eye.
"And in all honesty, I can't deny that!" David laughed.
Gill gave an indulgent shake of her head and then turned to Abigail, "Just what do you see in the man?" she asked in mock exasperation.
"Well… he has got a pretty good sense of humour," Abi smiled across the table at David, and Gill following her line of sight saw that David was looking back at the brown-haired lieutenant with much the same expression on his face that she had seen a time or two on Harm's face when he looked at her. It was a shared look that shut off the outside world as effectively as if someone had suddenly built a stone wall around the two. 'My God… he's finally fallen!' she realised and squirrelled that knowledge away against the day when she could use to its best advantage.
"Oh… but that's not enough reason, surely!" Gill laughed.
"No, not on its own…" Abi agreed, and then blithely continued, "But he's also pretty good in…"
"Abi!" a horrified David interrupted her with a gasped version of her name.
"Lots of other ways!" Abi said demurely, without interrupting her flow of words but with a mischief filled and sly sideways look at David.
Gill chuckled, deciding there and then that she rather liked the slim unassuming Royal Navy officer, before she turned to her big brother, "And just when are you going to take Abi to beard the lioness in her den?"
"If," David replied with awful dignity, "Do you mean when am I taking Abi to Dinton to meet our esteemed parents and in particular our revered Grandmother, who is not a lioness but a most genteel and refined old lady, then we leave tomorrow at about eleven hundred aiming to be home for thirteen thirty."
Gill chuckled at her brother' deadpan delivery and then gasped a little as the significance of his words sunk home. "Tomorrow? You're going home tomorrow?"
"Of course! And then on Sunday, we're travelling up to Warwickshire, where I need to speak with Abi's parents."
"Abi's parents…? Oh… David, do you mean?" Gill asked hopefully.
"Yes, Sissy, that's exactly what I mean." He leaned closer and whispered in her ear, "I've got the ring all ready in the side pocket of my overnight bag!"
"Does… does Abi know?" Gill asked.
"Of course she does! I wouldn't dare pull a stunt like that without making sure she wasn't preparing to repel boarders!"
"In that case," Gill grinned, including Abi in her smile, "Congratulations to you both!"
David's grin looked particularly foolish to Harm's eyes but Abi blushed faintly pink and murmured a "Thank you," to Gill.
"An engagement?" Simon Houghton smiled and looked around, signalling for a mess man, "This calls for something a little bit out of the ordinary!"
A supplementary drinks order was quickly given and the mess man returned a few minutes later with a bottle of champagne nestling in a silver ice bucket, together on a tray with eight flutes.
"This won't go very far between eight of us, Simon apologised, "but…" he paused while he poured a measure of champagne into the glasses, "here's congratulations to David and Abigail!"