TERRY

"Terry! Terry! Wake up!"

I had rolled over at the first ring, snatched up the phone from the cradle and was just raising it to my ear when she started. I groaned inwardly and checked the clock by my bedside. It was 5 a.m. I had been up half the night already with my bedmate. And we hadn't been playing Scrabble.

"Uma?" Clearing my throat, I wiped the sleep from my eyes and tried to follow what she was saying, not easy when you are fully awake and alert, but definitely not recommended bog eyed. "Do you know what time it is?"

She made a little noise like a squeak. "I know it's late but..."

"Uma it is not late. It is early. Please could whatever is biting your bum now not wait until some other time? And make it a more hospitable hour...?"

"Terry! Don't hang up! Please! This is really important. I wouldn't have disturbed you but I am totally desperate and there is no one else I can ask this of..." She was off and running, appealing to my 'Damsels in Distress' complex. I vaguely wondered why big Jack, hero of the Napoleonic Wars, couldn't serve but there was a certain kudos in being the one she turned to in a crisis. You see, why I'm such a soft touch?

"This better be good," I sat up and leaned against the headboard extricating myself from my beautiful Cassie who was wrapped around me like a human sheet. She stirred and lifted up her head, all tumbling golden curls and sleepy eyes, emerging like a naked Venus from the waves of the bedding.

"Who's that? Dino?" She muttered and then hauled herself out of the bed to stagger towards the bathroom, giving me an even better show of her bountiful charms. It also reminded me that my bladder was full. This knowledge did not improve my mood.

I shook my head and held up my hand; Cassie shrugged and disappeared. Meanwhile Uma had gone into warp speed on the other end of the line.

"...So he's been in London all week. This company he works for have managed to get the grant for this major expedition and he's kind of the maritime director of it. So they have had all these important meetings with the funders and captains of industry and TV companies and publishers who are handling the documentary that will be filmed with a book to go with it. There have been press conferences and dinners and you know how he hates all that sort of thing. He invariably opens his mouth and puts his foot in it and then he gets all moody because he's made a fool of himself... plus he's on his own a lot which means he'll be drinking and then he gets maudlin. He's going to be away for a long time and I think it's preying on his mind because he rings every night and he seems so low about it even thought he should be delighted because this will mean a substantial fee and will really put his name about...."

"UMA! What the fuck is this about? Get to the bloody point or I am going to put this phone down. You have ten seconds...Quick... you are already on nine....eight..."

"...He got arrested. He's in a cop shop in London. I am out of my mind. You know what he'll be like. Terry, it will take me hours to drive to London. Get there first and stop him from making it worse..."

"Arrested? What did he do?"

"Not sure. He didn't go into details. Something about throwing a phone at someone..."

I groaned. I already imagined the rest of it. "What do you want me to do?"

"Get him a good lawyer. Go gag him before he makes it worse."

I sighed. "Shut him up? Maybe I should stick the fucking phone in his mouth, hey?"

Which explains why I was hopping into my jeans at 5.05 that morning, and trying to explain to Cassie exactly what I was up to. Now Cassie is a wonderful woman, the light of my life, but she has one major personality defect. The mention of the name Uma and her face sets harder than marble and she pulls her mouth into this little pout. Usually she then begins that thing women do when they say 'Fine' to everything you suggest. Beware of the word 'Fine'. It means no such thing. Fine means it is very far from fine but they are luring you into a false sense of security while you incriminate yourself even further.

"Uma's boyfriend, Jack, has been arrested for some minor affray in London. Uma's asked me to go sort out his bail because it's going to take her a couple of hours to get here. I won't be long."

"Fine." Cassie got up and dressed herself in this particularly unattractive pink housecoat she saves for mornings when I have annoyed her in some way. Even the action of donning it was aggressively charged. Whilst I took a quick wee and wash, she brewed up and shortly afterwards handed me a cup of weak tea and indicated she was going back to bed.

"Look, Cassie...this is just helping out a mate...there is no need to make a melodrama out of it..."

"Of course not. Take your time, darling. I plan to spend the day in Esher helping Piers' new girlfriend hang the curtains in the love nest they bought off the proceeds of my hard work...." I thought it better not to rise to the bait. Piers is her ex-partner and boyfriend and the new girlfriend was once her secretary. She was merely being facetious explaining that she was as inclined to believe that my behaviour was driven by altruism and friendship as she was likely to go near Piers and his woman without putting a gun to their heads. She could go wallow in it. I was not in the mood for all that passive aggressive guilt trip at this hour in the morning.

My mood was vastly deteriorating from annoyed to seriously pissed off. Aubrey better be minding his manners when I got to him.

Half an hour later, I was entering the police station and went up to the desk sergeant. I waved a few credentials at him to give myself a bit of a leg up and he leafed through them impassively.

"These don't cut any ice here, mate. What's your connection to the gentleman in the cells, Mr...er....Thorne?"

I smiled my professionally courteous grin. "We're related. Distantly."

"Right...well, what can I do for you?"

"I'm here to arrange bail. There's a lawyer on the way..."

"Bail? For that lunatic? He'll have to calm down first. I'm surprised you can't hear him from out here...is he on something?"

That gave me a germ of an idea. It wasn't a dead cert that he would take any notice but worth a try if I could cast some doubt into the general mental health of my 'cousin'. "No he isn't on anything. That is the point, I'm afraid. Mr. Aubrey is rather a sad case, I'm afraid. He suffers from delusions. Bi-polar. Paranoid schizophrenic. Multiple personalities. Tragedy, really. He lives with his beautiful girlfriend who has devoted her life to caring for him. But from time to time he cuts his medication and takes off. When he does, he is capable of anything. She's on her way but asked for me to cover until she gets here. It is really very sad. She loves him so much but he is a handful." I hoped John Nash didn't mind me borrowing a few details from here and there to add some colour to my explanation.

"That so? The poor bugger. Thought there was something not quite right when he started going on about Lord Nelson..."

"He thinks he's a sea captain when he's off his meds. Never the same after he read 'Midshipman Easy'....Horatio Hornblower?" The sergeant looked confused but suitably impressed and shook his head. "This puts a different complexion on it entirely. I'll have a word with the arresting officers and see if they're prepared to drop the charge of attacking a police officer. There wasn't too much damage to the security guards at the hotel, but the desk clerk is still in casualty so until we know what happened to him, I can't promise anything. But we will see what we can do. He might not press charges if we explain the poor bastard is a fruit loop."

I tried to keep a pleasant smile on my face. Assault on police officers? Attacking security guards? A wounded desk clerk? Offensive and unruly behaviour in a police station. And he was probably drunk and disorderly into the bargain. Rinky dinky, Jack...make it easy, why don't you? "May I see Mr. Aubrey?"

The sergeant laughed. "See if you can shut him up. That bloke can certainly bellow. Voice on him like a foghorn...come this way, sir..."

I was led into the holding cells at the back but I didn't really require an escort. You could hear Jack bellowing and thumping at the door. I was surprised the metal reinforced plates didn't cave in at the battering he was giving them.

"LET ME OUT OF HERE, YOU WHORESON DOGS! Do you know who I am? Do you know any damned thing you mangy pack of fools?"

I stood at the door and shouted through the window. "Jack? It's me. Terry Thorne. Settle down and we'll open the door..."

"About time too. Thank God for a decent Christian gentleman after these wretches. Terry...!" He was picking up his jacket and making for the door as I stepped in, clearly imagining he was free. I pushed him back in and told him to sit down at the table. "Jack. We need to talk."

The door of the cell was locked behind us and we were alone. "This is serious, mate. You have to calm down and get a hold of yourself before you make this worse. Have you any idea how much trouble you're in?"

He didn't like that one bit, colouring up and thumping his fist on the table belligerently. "I am in trouble? What about that dirty little scrub who caused all this by his abject refusal to even show he had the least notion of how to serve his betters! I am not a flogging man but, by God, I should have taken a few inches of skin off his back for his insubordination!"

"Jack, Jack!" I put my fingers to my lips. "Jack you have to calm down. If they think you're showing no remorse and hear you making worse threats against this man then you're buggered, mate."

"It isn't me who should be buggered - it's all the damn weasels these days that stop a man even being able to defend himself against the noxious toadies who work in these inns..."

"Jack...just tell me the story from the beginning. In your own words. Don't leave anything out however unpalatable..."

He took a deep breath and settled back, looking away over my shoulder to the wall and began.

JACK 

It had been a long day or more to be exact, a long week. I do not enjoy these infernal meetings and gatherings when one must prostitute oneself for the sake of money. I hate having to shake hands and sing for my supper, make small talk with tedious self-opinionated business men and have them treat me like some inferior because I don't enjoy their cutthroat game. Some are little better than pirates, you know, but they give themselves airs and graces. I was also a rather low, if the truth be known, as this expedition when it finally gets underway will take me away for perhaps five months. I haven't really explained that to her. She will be so alone when I go. I can hardly bear to think of it.

I used to have little worry about separations. Sophie understood it and I had my usual wanderlust. I liked my independence, you see, and found domesticity a trifle tedious after a few weeks. I think Sophie too was glad to see the back of me at times. I loved my wife. She loved me. But it was not a grand passion, Terry. It was a sensible and warm arrangement between two adults who were fond of each other and shared a family of much loved children. I am finding it less easy to walk away these days. Even a week in London has left me pining for her like a lovesick boy.

And now this. I don't care a toss for what I have done tonight for myself. Left to me, I wouldn't give a damn. But what will she think of me? I would do anything not to hurt her or cause her distress but my damn temper has got me in this shameful position and I am heartsick that she will look on me with eyes that speak of her disappointment.

Last night I had attended a dinner which was intensely boring. I was sitting between two dullards who knew little of the sea and yet saw fit to lecture me all night long about the little that they did know as if they were the experts and me a mere landlubber. I sat and listened patiently but my temper was already frayed. I was tired and wanted to be at home. The high spot of my nights was the times I called Uma and we spoke before she went to bed - all I wished to do was go home and make my call.

I normally use my cell phone but the damned battery had run out and I had forgotten the device that recharges it. There was nothing for it but to use the room phone. That was the start of this farce. The goddamned device would not work properly. For some reason, it would not give me an outside line. Now, this hotel room was very expensive, I would even say a wicked waste of money, and yet throughout my stay I had found problems with many of the fixtures. To be frank, my patience was wearing thin. So I called up the desk downstairs and found myself talking to the night manager.

I explained my predicament. I needed an outside line but none was available. Some chap replied that there was nothing he could do about that. I asked him if I could perhaps change rooms then to one where the fixtures actually did what I was paying them to do. He told me that was out of the question at this hour in the morning; I would have to be patient and make my call in the morning.

Patient? Is that what I am paying for? Unwanted advice from a pipsqueak at the other end of the line?

That raised my blood and I shouted at him. "Not good enough, man. Change this this infernal phone! Or send me someone in this damn place who knows how to operate the bloody thing! Why not light along there and fix it yourself, you damned scrub?"

I was extremely agitated, partly though his mindless ill-humour and lack of any redeeming qualities but also because I knew Uma would be worried. She would probably imagine I was out carousing somewhere or even worse tupping some wench. A man needs to set his woman's mind at rest about such things.

The man told me to calm down and that it was not his job to carry out menial tasks. I told him forcefully that he should send someone who could. He said 'At this hour in the morning?"

I tried again to reason with him, explaining how I merely wished to call my lady and wish her goodnight before I retired. His glib answer got my goat. "Get a cell phone. Not my problem if you can't have a bit of phone sex with your girl, mate. Just give it a pull on your own and go to sleep..."

He was lucky I didn't go down and wring his scrawny neck at that foul insinuation. In my day I'd have taken my sword and given him the sharp end of it. A mere servant in an inn! Did I pay good money for things NOT to work and to be given NO service? Not to mention to be on the receiving end of his weasely attitude and to be backtalked by some smirking, hairless boy who needs a good thrashing and a few months at the mast where, by God, I would have put some manners into him and a rein upon his crude tongue!

With that I told him I was going to relieve myself and then I expected him to be at my door with either a new phone or a solution to my problem. The foul little wretch replied. "Can't be done. No staff available at this time of night."

I parried. "You are available! That's your damn job, you cretin. You're a fucking night manager. So manage. At night. NOW!"

It was simply getting nowhere as we bickered back and forth, both of us now entrenched in our respective positions (although there was nothing respectful about his, the hard-hearted bastard.) Finally it reached a crescendo when I told him if he didn't come to me, I would damn well come down to him and then he'd be sorry. He answered me with the worse possible word. I would have flogged a man for using this in that tone without a single regret had it ever been muttered on my deck.

"Whatever..."

So I simply took matters into my own hand. I ripped the offending phone from the wall and dressed, stormed out of my room and rode down to the foyer. It was very late and there was no one about other than this whey-faced boy at the reception.

"Are you the sniveling son of a bitch whore who has been so unutterably rude to me?" I bellowed.

"I am the night manager, sir and if you don't stop making your threats, I'll be calling security."

"Oh, you will, will you? I might have known you weren't man enough to stand and face me. I want a phone. I want it NOW, God damn you for a crapulous heathen!"

"Watch your language. I'm calling for security."

At that, I simply took the phone and tossed it at him. I cannot be held responsible for the fact that I am a damn good aim and that he is a poxy fool who did not even have the wit to duck. It hit him full in the face and he stood there whimpering.

Things were confused then. Some ruffians ran in and laid hands on me; there was a struggle and then soon afterwards in came the police who took charge from then on. They cuffed me like a criminal and hauled me off to their van where I was thrown unceremoniously to join  various drunks and ne'er-do-wells who were already incarcerated.

My treatment has been appalling. They took my shoes. They took my watch and all my money. They kept grabbing me and dragging me about as if I was not able to walk for myself; I soon shook them off and warned them what I would do if they tried their hard arm tactics on me again; I've eaten tougher men for breakfast in my day. I was not scared of them just because they could hide behind the law.

They finally gave me a phone and I got to make my call at last but it was not the one I had wished to make. I had to tell my dear girl that I was a prisoner. I didn't give her many details so as not to unduly alarm her but she seemed worried anyway. I felt like a damn scrub for making her fret so and for dragging her out of her bed at that ungodly hour of the morning with bad tidings. What will she think of me? I am so ashamed. So mortally ashamed to have sunk so low in her estimation...

TERRY

Frankly, I didn't exactly blame, Jack. I would have been equally irate at both the shoddy facilities and the appallingly bad service of the staff. These London hotels are horrendously pricey and yet they offer some of the world's worse hotel experiences. You are almost paying to be abused at times.

However I would not have dealt with it in quite the same way as Jack. Although the introduction of the word "Whatever' to the debate might very well have pushed me over the brink somewhat. But whichever way you cut this, we had a problem on our hands. Jack had a number of possible charges that could be thrown at him; it was going to take the full range of my negotiating skills to ease him out of it.

"Had you been drinking, Jack?" I asked.

He shrugged away my question. "Not really." That could mean anything with Jack Aubrey. Not really drinking to Jack Aubrey could mean as much as a pint of rum consumed before he even began to start counting. "Did they test you?"

He looked at me, his lips tight. "If you mean did they make me piss in a jar before a roomful of other beggars, then yes they did. It was a humiliating experience."

"They were within their rights to check for alcohol and drugs. Jack, you have to understand the procedures. This is a different age. For a start the guy at the hotel was not a servant. He was an employee. Now maybe he was a very poor employee and might well have needed reporting to management but the moment you lobbed that at him you became the one at fault and now he is the victim. It's like the Navy, Jack. There's a way of doing things and there's a way of fucking things up. You chose the latter and now you're in the shits whether you like it or not. Now what I want to know is this. You gonna play it my way or are you gonna make an even greater wanker of yourself than you have already? Because if the latter is the answer, then I'm walking now. I have a reputation and am not prepared to put it on the line while you have a major league tantrum. You say you're worried about Uma? Then bloody well start thinking how she's going to feel when you get sent down for a couple of years, when you lose any chance of a career as a result and she is left alone and penniless and probably knowing your penchant for perfect timing leaving her up the spout at the same time. That got your attention? Good...now this is what we're going to do...

He settled down and got the message. Jack might be unpredictable but he is a shrewd tactician and once he realised the full gravity of his predicament he was ready to play along with anything I suggested. And he's a damn good actor when he wants to be. He played the part of a confused babbling idiot quite frighteningly well and, I must say, the Lord Nelson references were entirely convincing, naturally.

It looked like we had pulled it off. Barring the paperwork, everything was apples and our miscreant was about to be released into my capable hands. I was sitting in the outer reception area when Uma breezed in on a wave of expensive perfume and dithering panic. I can't quite explain her arrival only that those who know her would recognize it as typically her.

She did, of course, have the entire constabulary out in force within two seconds flat, all dithering about her in the same degree of helplessness as she was panicking. I can't explain that either but it is also something I have observed happens to the male of the species when Uma has a problem. And I include myself in that sorry bunch.

There was a lot of weeping and wailing and gnashing of her pearly whites about "My poor Jack! And you must understand he doesn't always realise the consequences of his actions..." I thought I had better grab her quick and fill her in before she told a different story from me.

"Uma, baby!" I stepped up and took her in my arms holding her close and whispering. "Don't say anything. Let me just get you up to speed..."

She listened. She giggled. And then she put on the dying swan act so well that the place was almost awash in manly tears. I nudged her from time to time to warn her not to overplay her hand - she has a tendency to melodrama.

Finally someone produced a cup of tea for her (none of that crap from the machine; this was real bone china from the Superintendent's office apparently) and I took her aside to calm her down.

"Terry...we so owe you! I knew you would do it. I can't thank you enough..."

"No worries. He was just so angry when I got in that left to his own devices he would probably have ended up on capital charges..."

"I know. Jack can be just so irrational at time. He has such a temper and such a sense of his own superiority...in the nicest possible way, I mean..." she added.

"Things all right with you two?" I asked, wondering whether he was leading her a merry dance. He doesn't seem the type but you never know what goes on behind closed doors.

"Jack and me?" She smiled, blushed even. Totally not like Uma as a dreamy sort of haze settled over her eyes. I didn't really need her to say anymore. "We're great. Better than great. He's...I can't even tell you what he means to me. That's the trouble. We are so completely wrapped up in each other and the prospect of this long separation is eating at us both. He's so jumpy and bad-tempered. I'm so weepy and broody. We make quite a pair these days..."

"You pregnant?" I'm not sure why I said it. She just seemed so soft and mellow, so womanly and delicate. 

"Me? Pregnant? What makes you say that?"

I shrugged. She smiled fondly.

"I wish I was. But it isn't the right time. I will be one day though. I want to give him a child more than anything. He feels the same. I'm sorry...was that over-sharing?"

That made me smile. "I think you and I know each other well enough to share, don't you? How's the financial situation? That the problem still?"

"It's looking brighter and this new contract will really help us turn the corner but we are still on a budget. As you can see from my current state of dress!"

I looked at her and wondered what she meant. But then she is the kind of person who can put on jeans and a blouse from a high street chain and look like she's in couture. To me, anyway. "You look just fine, sweetheart. As always...like the hair, by the way...." It has grown now and is back to its natural colour; she was wearing it loose and tumbling curls. Uma began to smile at my compliment and then her face changed. She was looking over my shoulder and I suddenly became invisible.

"Jack! Jack!" She jumped up and ran to him; he caught her and held her at arms' length as if to appreciate her, a warm smile of pleasure on his face. Their eyes locked and I felt embarrassed even to be looking at them. He didn't kiss her or hold her closer. She didn't throw her arms round him and do the usual Uma song and dance. They just stood there and stared, a soft expression on both of their faces. Then he intertwined his fingers with hers and sighed.

"I am so sorry I put you through this! I would not have wished this upon you for the world. I am a terrible burden to you..." he began. She put a finger to his lips.

"You are not. Things happen. It's over now. Let's go home?"

He nodded and then looked about him, beaming when he saw me sitting there.

"Terry! What can I say! Let me stand you dinner. It's the least we can do..."

He walked over and grasped my hand. "Anytime, Jack. Why don't you two come back and stay with me? Cassie's a great cook. You can stay the night and get an early start in the morning. You had no sleep last night and Uma's been driving since the crack - not a good idea to go back now."

Jack opened his mouth, clearly more than willing to accept the invitation but Uma caught my arm and dragged me away.

"No, Terry. Thanks but no thanks. I just...we just...look, Jack and I need to be alone and...your girlfriend would have a blue-arsed fit if we waltzed in now. I'm the last person in the world she wants to see. Believe me. How exactly have you explained away this little excursion anyway?"

I had to admit Cassie hadn't been pleased. "She just doesn't know you. If she did she wouldn't be so unreasonable...and Uma, you two hide away too much. If you mixed more freely with the others then maybe you wouldn't feel so cut off when Jack goes away..."

At that she laughed. "You think Jack would feel any better to know I was seeing you or Maximus or even Arthur on a regular basis while he was away? He's an old-fashioned guy. He doesn't want me near any man in his absence. Especially not you."

"Then maybe he'd get on well with Cass?" I chuckled, my hands in my pockets and looking down at my feet. Trust Uma to see right through to the real kernel of the problem - and have no problem verbalizing it.

"Possibly. She got big tits?" Uma asked cheekily and I rolled my eyes making the gesture of weighing two rather large melons in my palms.

"Am I the only woman in the world who was left out of the tit distribution?" she retorted and took my arm, leading me back to where Jack was signing for his belongings.

"I thanked Terry for his offer but declined it. I've got your luggage - it was at the hotel, packed up and waiting at the door for me. I'd rather we headed for home. We can share the driving. Some other time, hey, Terry? Call in any time you're in the area. We'd love to see you both. She seems a nice girl this Cassie of yours. Is it serious?"

Jack coughed his disapproval at her blatant fishing - but I answered anyway.

"Yeah, Very. Might do one of these days. Well, Jack...all the best with the new contract. Uma, take care of him, hey? Good to see you both again. I'll be off then."

And with a professional smile, I thanked the sergeant, gave them a nod and made my way out. It felt very sad to walk away like that. We had once been such old friends that a meeting like this would have led to a long sociable evening together. Probably some hanky panky too, but that had been then. The world was very different now.

Now we were gradually withdrawing from each other and I wasn't sure if that was really the answer. Uma might have dismissed me, for the best of reasons, but I still believe that this odd little group of refugees of ours needs to keep the links open. The old days are gone but we're now entering a new relationship. Cassie, Angharad, even Ann whom I believe to be with Bud now (although that's more deduction than actual intel) had not been part of that crazy old world where we all met. Even Heather had only a partial involvement and her relationships with most of the men is platonic - with a few notable exceptions (and Cassie doesn't know it all. Let's keep it that way, okay?). Only Uma binds us all together in one sense and has an intimate place in the lives of all the men who are left.

I want Uma to find her place back into the centre again. I think we need her. I believe that she will be good for Cassie and the other women from outside the inner circle in the future. She could be so good at helping them to accept what we are.

Call in when you're in the area? A cliff top on the remotest promontory in the British Isles. Like we're planning an excursion near you anytime soon?

Okay, then Uma...you did ask...