The Levant Trilogy (15 page)

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Authors: Olivia Manning

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Historical, #War & Military

BOOK: The Levant Trilogy
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Looking again at
Aidan, Harriet did recognize him. 'Of course, I knew I'd seen you before.
You're the actor, Aidan Sheridan."

Aidan, revivified
by the arrival of Guy, made a denigratory movement of the hand. 'I was Aidan
Sheridan. Now I'm Captain Pratt of the Pay Corps.'

He could not
suppress Harriet's admiring memory of him. 'I saw you play Konstantin in
The
Sea Gull.
I went with a friend to the gallery and we sat on a narrow plank
of wood and gazed down at you, spellbound. It was all new to me - I'd never
seen Chekov before. I was very young and at the end I went out crying.'

Aidan flushed
darkly and caught his breath. He was moved by her memory and several moments
passed before he could say, 'I was young, too. It was my first big role. At
that age it is bliss to have a dressing-room to oneself. On my first night,
sitting in front of the mirror I said to myself, "Now it's all
beginning!"'

Guy beamed on his
wife and friend, letting them discuss
Chekov for a
while, but eager to have a part in the felicitations, he soon took over to
compliment Aidan on other parts he had played: Henry V, Romeo, Oswald ...

'Did you play
Hamlet?'

Aidan shook his
head. 'That was to come.'

Guy, knowing he
had asked the wrong question, hurried on to another subject: his own production
of
Troilus and Cressida.'
Describing it, he longed to be in the theatre
again and said, 'I must produce another Shakespeare play.'

'Gracey would
never let you,' said Harriet.

'If it's for the
troops, he couldn't very well refuse. Or why not a Chekov play? Why not
The
Sea Gull?'

'Really, darling,
for troops?'

'Well, why not?
The men get sick of those concert parties. One of them told me they'd welcome a
real play. They're not fools. They want something to think about.
The Sea
Gull
is about wasted youth. It would have meaning for them.'

Aidan sombrely
agreed and Guy turned excitedly to him. 'You would play Konstantin, wouldn't
you?'

Startled by the
suggestion, Aidan gave an ironical sniff. 'My first youth is passed. Trigorin
would be more up my street these days.'

'Then, would you
play Trigorin?'

'You're not
serious? I couldn't act with amateurs.'

The statement had
a finality that shocked Guy into silence. Harriet laughed and Aidan again
blushed darkly, this time with shame, realizing that his vanity had betrayed
him.

'But you are an
amateur,' Harriet spoke with friendly reasonableness, not wishing further to
deflate his unhappy ego. 'You are an amateur soldier among professionals,
aren't you?'

'I suppose I am.'

Guy, having made
a rapid recovery, said, 'But you would help and advise, wouldn't you?'

'Willingly, if
I'm around. But I can't get here as often as I would wish.'

Harriet, wanting
to put a stop to this talk of productions said, 'And quite probably Guy won't
be here, either.' She looked at Guy, insisting that he listen to her. 'Be
sensible. Jackman says Alexandria will be cut off. Rommel will simply
march round behind it and it will fall of itself. They could be
here tomorrow. Come back to Cairo, just till we know what's going to happen
here.'

'Darling, you
know I can't abandon my students like that.’

‘What students?
Did those two turn up this afternoon?’

‘No, but that
doesn't mean ...'

'It means
they've
abandoned
you.
I bet they're taking German lessons.'

Guy laughed. 'If
the worst happens, I'll jump on a jeep. The army will take me out.'

'The army won't
get out. It'll be surrounded, too.’

‘Then it'll be
another Dunkirk. The navy will rescue us.' Dobson had said the same thing and
Harriet, for the moment, let the matter drop. Guy asked Aidan if he had met
Catroux who was, according to gossip, the illegitimate son of a royal
personage. Did Aidan think this was the truth? Aidan discussed Catroux with
avid interest, as though the general were his own achievement or an important
part of his own life. Harriet could imagine that the name of Catroux dominated
Syria as other names dominated Egypt. There had been Cun-ningham, Ritchie (the
troops sang 'Ritchie, his arse is getting itchy'), Freyberg, Gott. Now there was
Auchinleck. She saw them as larger than life, archetypal heroes, who had power
over other men, and over civilians, too. When they decreed that Egypt should be
evacuated, everyone must pack and go. The war had deprived people of free will.
They must do what they were told.

Aidan, while
talking, came to a sudden stop and gazed with unbelieving displeasure as yet
another intruder arrived to claim Guy's attention. Castlebar had come to the
table. Harriet could feel, almost like a physical force, Aidan's will to remove
Castlebar but Castlebar was not to be moved. Confident of Guy's welcome and not
unwelcomed by Harriet, he sniggered a greeting and sidled round the table to
seat himself on a chair with his back to the wall. Guy, happy in the belief
that Aidan and Castlebar would be drawn to each other, introduced the one as
'the famous actor' and the other as 'the famous poet'. Ducking his head,
Castlebar gave Aidan a sidelong stare of dislike which Aidan, more directly,
returned.

As Guy went to
the bar to buy drinks, Castlebar put a packet of Camels on the table in his
usual manner. The packet was placed central to his person, the open end facing
him, a cigarette pulled out and propped up so it could be taken and lighted
from the one in his mouth. Thus, there was no wasted interval between smokes.
His thick, pale eyelids hid his eyes but all the time, he was observing Aidan
as he might an enemy.

The two men were
physically alike. They had the same heavy good looks but Castlebar was some ten
years older. His sallow skin was falling into lines, his hair was greying and
his full, loose mouth sagged as though pulled down by his perpetual cigarette.
His lips were mauve and had the soft, swollen look of decay. Harriet, sensing
their distaste of each other, supposed that Castlebar resented Aidan's youth
while Aidan saw in Castlebar a debased analogue of himself.

Guy, certain that
his friends were enjoying each other as much as he enjoyed them, began to plan
a whole evening for them all: a few drinks here, then to Pastroudi's for a bite
and on to Zonar's for coffee and drinks then, if they wanted to go on drinking
and talking, they could come back to the Cecil where Aidan was a resident
Neither man interrupted this exuberant programme but at the end, Castlebar
said, 'Sony. Nothing I'd like better but I'm going back on the early train.'

'Take the later
train.'

Castlebar shook
his head, stared down for some moments then stammered, seeming to force his
voice through impeding teeth, 'Don't want to hang about here. Not even for love
of you, dear old boy. My Greeks were in a panic. They had packed and would
leave at the first sound of the guns. They thought I was mad to come up here
but they owed me a bit -a whole quarter's tuition in fact. Thought I'd better
make sure of it'

Harriet fervently
said, 'Thank God someone's got some sense.' She gave an ironical laugh as she
looked at Guy. 'Castlebar may drink too much and smoke too much, but he's not
taking silly risks.' She turned to Castlebar, 'Can't you persuade Guy to come
to Cairo. He thinks the navy will rescue him.'

'The navy?'
Castlebar lifted his eyelids and gave Guy a startled stare. 'Don't you know the
navy's gone?'

'Gone?' Harriet
was alarmed. 'Gone where?'

'No one knows.
The Red Sea, I'd imagine. My Greeks were in a state about that. They say the
whole Fleet upped anchor this morning and deserted the town.'

'Good heavens,
that shows you ...' Harriet turned on Guy but Guy, adept at dodging her
anxieties, jumped to his feet and the others watched him as he went to make
much of a big, stooping, paunchy fellow who had just entered the bar.

'Who's he found
now?' Castlebar spoke with indulgent exasperation. 'Your husband's crazy. Here
he is sitting with friends who hang on his every word, but he's not satisfied.
As soon as he sees someone else, he rushes over to them.'

'It's Lister. I
met him at Groppi's. His job's in Jerusalem but he comes here all the time to
fill up with food.'

Aidan, his face
contracted as though with pain as he saw Guy bringing Lister to the table, said
to Harriet, 'He gathers people as he goes.'

Lister, limping
on a stick, smiled as he joined the company, his round blue eyes giving an
impression of innocent, almost infantile, amiability, but Harriet knew he was
more complex than he seemed. In the midst of his fat, pink, glossy face there
was a cherub's nose and a very small mouth covered by a fluffy moustache. He
was wearing a pair of old brown corduroy trousers and a shirt that had faded
to yellow, and only his cap and the crown on his shoulder indicated that he was
not a civilian but an army officer. He sank into a chair as though the few
steps from bar to table had exhausted him, and pushed his right leg under the
table, out of the way of harm. Getting his breath back, he lifted Harriet's
hand, brushed it wetly with his moustache and asked, 'How is my lovely girl?'

'Not too happy.
We've just heard that the navy's left Alex.'

'Good God!'
Lister's little mouth fell open. 'What next? You'd scarcely believe it, I
didn't know till I got here that there's a flap on. No one tells us anything in
Palestine. I'm in Intelligence but there hasn't been a signal from GHQ ME, for
a week.'

Harriet said, 'The
rumour is that GHQ ME has left Egypt. They've been too busy evacuating
themselves to send you a signal.'

'That's probably
it. Jerusalem's packed out with evacuees, but it's always like that when the
Germans cross into Egypt. To tell you the truth, you're safer here. Palestine's
a cul-de-sac and if we move on to Syria, we
'
ll meet the German 6th army
on its way down from Russia. Where do you go then? Better off here, I say. You
can always go down the Nile.'

Castlebar
sniggered. 'You mean,
up
the Nile.'

'Yes. This must
be the only country in the world where south is up.' Lister's big, shapeless
body quivered as though he had made an enormous joke.

Guy, putting out
his hands to Lister and Castlebar, urged them to tell some limericks. Between
them, he said, they had the best collection he knew. 'Come on, let's have a
flyting.'

'Oh!' Lister,
choked by his own laughter, flapped a hand in protest. 'I'm too far gone. Been
at it all day. I can't remember anything.' His nose, that was still the nose of
infancy, glowed with the drink he had taken. Took a taxi from the station to
Groppi's, rang Harriet (I'd've given you a fine repast, m'girl), had lunch at
the Hermitage, went back to Groppi's for a few cream cakes, then I thought why
not pop up and see old Pringle? Knew I'd find you in the bar.'

Aidan, pushing
his chair back from the table, looked at Lister in frowning distaste.
Castlebar, as he noted this, gave Harriet a sly grin and said to Lister, 'Bet
you intend a visit to Mary's House?'

'Oh, oh, oh!' Lister
averted his eyes as though deeply offended but his laughter overtook him, his
body collapsed in on itself and tears ran down his cheeks. When he had
recovered enough, he said, 'Did you know: when they got a direct hit, all the
chaps taken to hospital said, one after the other, "I got mine at Mary's
House," and a little sweetie of a nurse said to the doctor, "Mary
must've been giving a very big party."'

It was an old
story but they all laughed except Aidan, whose frown grew darker. The drinks
were renewed and Castlebar was persuaded to speak a few limericks. His poetry
was a mild mixture of nostalgia and regrets but his limericks had a dexterity
and obscene wit that convulsed Lister, who soon attempted to rival them.
Lister's humour was scatological and Harriet,
bored, said as soon as there was a pause, 'Darling, don't you
think we should eat?'

'Yes,' Guy had a
couple of inches in his glass, 'when I've finished this,' but he made no
attempt to finish it. Washing it slowly round and round, he gained time by
leaving it unfinished.

He invited Lister
to Pastroudi's but Lister, shaking his head, tittered mysteriously and left
them to guess where he was going. When it seemed the 'flyting' would end,
Castlebar insisted that Guy must contribute to it. 'Do Yakimov,' he urged and
Lister agreed. 'Oh, oh, must have Yakimov.'

Yakimov, dead and
turned to dust in the dry Greek earth, led a post mortem life in Guy's
repertoire of comic characters. Harriet, hungry but resigned, listened with
fear that the performance might fail and pride that it did not. She was the
only other one of the party who had known Yakimov in life and so the only one
who, watching Guy's rounded, sunburnt features take on Yakimov's Slavonic mask,
marvelled at the impersonation. The change, for her, verged on the
supernatural. For the others, there was a funny story. Guy imitated Yakimov's
delicate, fluting voice, but the voice was not as exact as the face. 'Ee-a knew
a lay-dee who played a most unfair game of ...
cio-o-o-quet.
She would
put her skirt over her balls and move them about with her foot,
just
wherever
she liked ...'

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