Green Smarties

The weather being fair meant that the cocktail party took place on the deck under an awning. Over the course of the evening, I was occasionally approached by different officers who would smile and remark ‘I like your hat’.

This seemed really polite to begin with, but by the time the Commander had sidled up and made the same comment with a knowing grin, I began to feel there must be something people were not telling me. ‘Well I like yours too’ I said guardedly, indicating all the gold braid on the rim of his cap.

The official reception lasted two hours. I was chatting to a young lieutenant who introduced himself as Chris. Towards the end another officer suddenly arrived from nowhere and burst in on the conversation. He had dark hair, was not very tall, with piercing blue eyes and a wicked smile.

‘Who is this rude man?’ I thought somewhat annoyed at the intrusion. Little did I know then, that the ‘rude man’ concerned would be my husband a few months later.

‘Don’t forget the rules’ he said forcefully to the other officer.

‘Rules?’ I enquired.

‘At an official ‘do’ you’re supposed to mingle with ALL the guests and not monopolise eligible birds until the last half hour’ explained the ‘rude’ officer. ‘Then it’s every man for himself and fair game – so here I am.’

I did not warm to the implication that I was fair game and began to feel like a prize pheasant.

Then to make matters worse, he added with the same infuriating smile that his fellow officers had displayed previously ‘Like your hat.’

‘Look’ I said impatiently, my courage fuelled by a fifth horse’s neck. ‘What is all this fascination with my hat?’

The two officers exchanged knowing glances. ‘Ah’ said the rude officer ‘she hasn’t heard the saying then.’

‘What saying?’ I asked getting more annoyed.

‘Red hat, no knickers’ he responded without the slightest bit of diplomacy. They both smirked.

The colour rushed to my face, and I longed for an opportunity to take the offending article off my head and hide it somewhere. The height of Parisian fashion it may be, but this hat was obviously not the thing to wear on board one of Her Majesty’s Ships.

I was just thinking about how quickly I might get back on shore when the rude officer asked ‘Join us for a bacon and egg supper?’

‘Isn’t everyone leaving?’ I said.

‘Not all of them’ he replied ‘we’ve invited the younger ones to stay on board for a bit of a party, and there’s also a female journalist from some newspaper down from London who’s joining us. We could take you on a tour of the ship and show you the golden rivet.’

Both officers smiled annoyingly at each other again.

I had heard rumours of the golden rivet before, and although never found out exactly what it was, had a very good idea what it entailed.

‘You haven’t introduced us’ the rude officer said accusingly to his friend Chris.

‘Sorry’ Chris said turning to me ‘This is Peter our flight commander – drives the clockwork budgerigar.’ Then seeing my vacant expression he added ‘Helicopter.’

My father beckoned to me. The rest of the guests were leaving and heading toward the ship’s launch for the return journey.

I explained hastily that I would be staying on board.

‘Well they’re all officers and gentlemen and will look after you.’ he said misguidedly. His judgement had obviously been affected by the drink and a sheltered upbringing.