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Marxist canaille,’ while to the Republicans, Franco’s men were ‘anti-Marxist priests’ bastards.’ It was hard to tell which were the most virulent in their hatred, with prisoners taken in arms shot out of hand and officers shot whatever the situation.
    In February, the Nationalists had eliminated the Republican pocket round Malaga, with the Italians helping on land and the new German pocket battleship, Graf Spee, standing by in support. In April, the Kondor Legion of the German Luftwaffe had wiped out Guernica, the Basque market town. In May the destroyer, Hunter, had struck an Italian-made Nationalist mine off Almeria, with eight killed and nine wounded – and a fortnight later, Graf Spee’s sister ship, Deutschland, had been bombed by government aircraft off Ibiza, and after landing her wounded at Gib, had bombarded Almeria in revenge.
    By this time, General Franco’s forces controlled the west and south coasts of Spain with part of the north, while the government held the east coast with the great ports of Barcelona and Valencia. Though a fascist blockade had been declared and considerable efforts had been made to enforce it, it had not been recognised by the British government and, attracted by enormous profits, British shipowners were now operating whole lines of small steamers to break it. Like Jeb el Aioun, they were constantly in trouble, and merchant ships of all nationalities continued to be sent to the bottom, while one British destroyer, narrowly missed by a torpedo, had not hesitated to call up her flotilla mates so that the Italian submarine which had fired the torpedo had only just escaped, damaged and unnerved. Nobody in the Navy was kidding themselves any more that the Spanish Civil War wasn’t the prelude to a major conflict. The gathering storm was just off the quarterdeck.
    Walking home to his flat in Main Street under the Rock, Kelly stared round him at the towering fortress, wondering if it could be held. If war came would there be another great siege? Those whose job was the strategy of the British Empire had probably already abandoned it in their plans because a siege would be a useless piece of heroics.
    It was clear the Germans were treating the Spanish war as a rehearsal for a more serious conflagration and, with the powers constantly trying to draw military lessons from it, Kelly himself had been involved in drawing up reports on the influence of the air on land and sea warfare. It had not been difficult to notice that, in air attacks on warships, though no ships had been sunk, many had been damaged and every endeavour was now being made to improve anti-aircraft armament.
    Stopping by his door, he wasn’t looking forward to spending another evening alone. Yet he’d spent too many dining with people who had wives to feel he could impose any more. Even Rumbelo had gone now, his time in the Navy finished, and was back at Thakeham, near Esher, where his wife, Biddy, looked after the vast empty house Kelly owned. He’d gone with no regrets because, contrary to the romantic legends about the pull of the sea, there weren’t many long-serving sailors who didn’t happily give it up.
    His hand in his pocket feeling for his key, Kelly wondered what he’d do when his own time came to retire. It couldn’t be far off because, unless something happened soon, he could see himself being passed over for captain’s rank in favour of the experts who’d built such a reputation in capital ships. Would he marry? He didn’t think so. Not again, though judging by the people who kept pushing their daughters at him, he supposed he must still be a good catch.
    You, Kelly Maguire, he thought as he took out the key, are a bloody fool.
    It was a thought that often came to him these days. Ten years before he would have believed that his life had been laid out for him: a steady climb up the ladder and a happy home provided by Charley Upfold, the one woman he’d loved all his life. But he’d been too