tea Laura told him that the man who had changed her wheel in the rain had phoned to say he would call after supper tomorrow night. ‘I’m glad he kept his promise, aren’t you?’
In one way yes, in another no. ‘Of course. There’s a lot to thank you for.’
A stranger in the house on such a pretext would highlight his disability, bring it to mind in relation to the non blind outside his wireless room. ‘It’ll be nice to have a chat.’ Laura helped him to be king of himself, but he was a Lord of the Universe when concealed within his earphones. He felt no excitement at meeting someone with the same radio aptitudes as himself but who had his sight as well. ‘It’s marvellous you’ve fixed it up.’
He listened until ten o’clock to chatter among the stream of cargo planes coming over the Atlantic, then turned the wheel slowly through the static till alighting on a recognisable voice. Lighting a cigarette to take his ease, he heard a woman calling someone who couldn’t hear her. She was on a boat by the name of Daedalus, and her friend was on the Pontifex. Hearing both, he willed them to come together. Loud and clear, they called through space. The woman with the gruff voice and heavy foreign accent suggested they change to another channel, but as the English and younger woman, who sounded as if she came from somewhere north of London, couldn’t hear there was no complying, but she persisted in calling: ‘Pontifex, Pontifex, can you hear me? Over.’
Their powerful transmitters, especially the Englishwoman’s, brought them together. ‘Where have you been, Carla? What were you doing with your radio? I could hear you all the time.’
He didn’t get the answer, because Carla was talking on one frequency and the Englishwoman on another – working duplex it was called. When they occasionally changed to get better reception Howard decided to stay with the Englishwoman. ‘I miss you a lot. The others on board joke about when I was with you. I’m happy when I’m with you. When I got back on board everybody said how happy I was, but I was ready to cry when I said goodbye to you. They were watching me saying goodbye so I said goodbye quickly because I didn’t want them to see me cry.’
He wouldn’t make a typescript in case of missing something, and cursed the static that threatened to diminish her voice.
‘Carla, I want to stay with you forever. I want to do everything with you. Whenever I go on shore alone I imagine you’re with me.’
‘I love you too, Judy,’ Carla said, now using the same channel, ‘but I must go on the bridge.’
‘I could talk to you forever. I’d love to be able to talk your language. We’ve known each other for over a year and haven’t been together more than one month. I can’t tell you over the radio how much I want you.’
Howard couldn’t wheel off it, though knew he should. Eavesdropping on a private conversation was different to recording impersonal morse. It wasn’t a ship-to-shore telephone line either, only a boat-to-boat chat, which didn’t diminish the sensation of excitement and theft. Maybe Judy did most of the talking because it saved her friend the effort of trying to be fluent in a foreign language. ‘I phoned you at home, but your husband answered.’
‘He not my husband. Boyfriend.’
Judy laughed. ‘Don’t you know?’
‘I no tell.’
Dynamite if whoever it was had a communications receiver and knew how to tune in. The airwaves were public property, after all. Maybe he knew already, or at least suspected. Could even be he didn’t mind, different if it was another man.
‘I’m hungry,’ Judy said, ‘so I’ll take some bread to my cabin, with sausage and an orange. I can’t talk tomorrow evening because we don’t sail till one o’clock. We’ll talk on Wednesday, though, the day after tomorrow. Don’t forget. I know it’s difficult, but we’ll try at eleven, though wait till twelve because other crew sometimes come in the cabin where the radio is and I don’t want to talk with anyone listening.’
‘What about skipper?’
‘Oh, he’s in bed, and the others have gone to a disco. They heard me last night and said why do you want to talk to a Spanish woman? She doesn’t understand you. And I said: “She’s a very nice person.” But they only laughed. They tease me, but I don’t care. I love you very much. My hand is painful when I have to press the button to you. When I have a chance I’ll bring my camera to the radio corner and take a picture so you’ll know where I am. The men on board say: “Why have you got a woman lover?” And I say: “Haven’t you heard how nice Spanish women are? She’s fantastic. I see her every two months, and I’m more happy than if I see an English person every day.” I tell them you’re married, and we’re just friends. Oh, my finger’s gone to sleep. Can you hear me now? Say again? It was good to see you in Valencia. I was happy.’
‘We meet again soon, then?’
‘It’s very difficult, and a long way to come. Maybe we’ll meet next in Barcelona.’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Why not? When you’re with your boyfriend you forget me, I know. I’m going to my cabin now to eat French honey. Then I’ll have a drink, and one cigarette. I’ll be on my own. When it’s dark the reception’s better on the radio, isn’t it? The frequency’s clear.’
‘I want to go to sleep.’
‘Typical! I could talk all night, even though I have to get their breakfasts at six in the morning. I don’t like to get out of bed either. After lunch I have to be on again at four.’
‘Must go now,’ Carla said. Howard thought she sounded weary.
‘OK, speak to you on Wednesday. Love you, Carla. Goodnight.’
He heard the sound of kisses.
The voice of Judy enchanted, went deeply in, he couldn’t say why. The tone spoke to him, more he hoped than to her lover. Though they had signed off he waited for more, a forlorn hope that she would come back. Laura came in to tell him it was time for his drinks before going to bed, so he plugged in the tape recorder in case there was more talk on the wavelength, not wanting to miss a word of their conversation.
Richard downhilled into town towards the sea, the morse key squeaking intermittently in its box. Contacts were too close, no hidden message made out of such electrical dribble. He smiled that if it went on much longer he would feed its canary spirit to the cat, or cut down the ration of birdseed for breakfast. He had practised using it during the afternoon, testing for digital dexterity and the flexibility of his wrist. It was a little ex-post office model, all shining precision of brass-made parts except for the Bakelite thumb and finger hold.
Lights spread along the front and, parking by the church, he unscrewed the key to stop the contacts mewing, unwilling for the battery to waste. Stars pushed from ragged cloud, and he knew he needed a drink when half a dozen lucky youths rocketed from a pub and went singing towards the amusement arcades. He climbed steps between the houses, undrawn curtains showing dolly-mixture coloured screens ogled by those who had nothing better to do.
Drizzle blew from behind, kept at bay by his trench coat and cap. No bell,
