The Levant Trilogy (14 page)

From the silence,
she guessed they were alone in the building and she was reminded of another
time of danger when Guy, who had been the beloved mentor, waited in vain for
his students. During their last days in Bucharest, with the Iron Guard on the
march, the students were wise to stay away.

As she opened the
door, he turned his head and at once he was young again. He jumped to his feet,
animated by surprise and pleasure. 'Well, this is the nicest thing that's
happened to me for a long time.'

'I've come to take
you back to Cairo.'

He laughed,
treating her statement as a joke. She looked at the book on his desk. It was
one she had given him for his last birthday and she said, 'Good heavens, you're
not trying to lecture them on
Finnegans Wake?
'

'Not all of them,
but I have two exceptionally brilliant chaps who are interested in English for
its own sake. Pretty rare in this place. I promised them a seminar on Joyce.
I'm certain that Joyce got a lot of his funnier pieces from students at the
Berlitz School. I get the same sort of things here. Look,' he pulled some
students' papers out of his desk and read, ' "D. H. Lawrence was
theoretically wrong" - Joyce would have loved that And here,

Thou wast
not meant for death immoral bird...

'Darling, you've
got to come to Cairo, at least for a few days.'

'You know that's
impossible. I have my summer school and...'

'Which you're
keeping open for only two students?'

'Well, I had ten
to begin with. They thought if they humoured me by joining the class, I'd repay
them by marking up their exam papers. When they found it didn't work, they
faded away. But there are two left and they're exceptional.'

'Well,
exceptional or not, the fact is you're keeping this place open for a couple of
students? Here you are, at a time like this, waiting to discuss
Finnegans
Wake
?'

'Why not? What do
you expect me to do?'

'I expect you to
have some sense. Don't you realize the Germans are less than fifty miles from
Alex?'

'Oh, darling,' he
took her hands and squeezed them. 'Little monkey's paws! You aren't frightened,
are you? You weren't frightened in Greece when we had nothing in front of us
but the sea. Here we have the whole of Africa.'

'I'm frightened
for you. A lot of good having the whole of Africa if you're cut off here. If
you're waiting for orders, you'll wait for ever. There's no one to give orders.
Gracey's bolted, as usual. So, for that matter, have Toby Lush, Dubedat and
several thousand others. I saw Pinkrose going off on the special train this
morning. The least you can do is come to Cairo. If you hang on here, you'll end
up in Dachau. In Cairo, we stand a fair chance of getting away.'

'Don't worry,
darling. We've always got away before.'

'T
hat's the trouble. You're
overconfident. We've got away twice - but it could be third time unlucky. They
move so fast, you could be caught before you knew they had reached Alex.'

'I can't argue
now, darling.' Guy put an arm round her shoulder and led her to the door. The
students are due any minute. You get back to Alex. Get yourself something to
eat and I'll see you later. I'm going to the Cecil to meet some men.'

She asked
suspiciously, 'What men? What time?'

'Six o'clock.
You'll find Castlebar there. And I'm having supper with a chap you don't know.
Called Aidan Pratt. If you get there before I do, introduce yourself. Be nice
to the poor fellow. He's very shy.'

'All right. Six
o'clock. And be prepared to come back with me.'

Guy laughed and
shut the door on her. The sun was breaking through the mist and the promenade
was in sunlight when she reached the bus stop. Guy had said, 'I can't argue
now,' implying, she hoped, that he would argue later, but later there would be
Castlebar and this man she did not know and Guy, always high-spirited in
company, would be too volatile to discuss unwelcome reality. He had an impulse
to take risks, and then there were the two students, the ambitious swots who
roused his old obstinate loyalty and could detain him there until it was too
late.

'Bloody
students!' She saw them as voracious creatures who would devour him if they
could. And, in time, he would be devoured. She felt rage that he should be
wasting his learning on this wretched place.

As there was no
bus in sight, she decided to walk the length of the Corniche and so pass the
dead centre of the day. Walking, that in Cairo meant bathing in sweat, was
pleasant enough here where the sea wind tempered the heat, but the walk was
monotonous. It was a dull shore with rocks that were rotting like cheese. At
one point where the sea washed under the cheesey, crumbling rock shelf, holes
had been cut so the waves, beating through them, made a booming sound. Or so it
was said. Harriet had never heard it. The holes were very ancient and were no
longer a diversion. Today the water splashed through them with a half-hearted
plip-plop that she thought a fitting comment on the wartime world. The sun was
dropping and the light deepening. This was the evening when the conquerors of
the Afrika Korps were to force their pent-up ardour on the ladies of
Alexandria.

The conquerors
had not yet arrived but there was a British soldier leaning against the sea
wall. He looked like a man with all the time in the world but his baggage
showed he was waiting for transport.

She stopped to
lean beside him, staring with him at the flat, almost motionless sea where no
ships sailed, and said, 'You off to the desert?' He muttered, 'Ya.' He was
older than the soldier she had met
in Cairo and he
did not marvel at meeting a young Englishwoman.

'I
suppose you've no idea what's happening out there?'

'Nope. Heard
nothing for days.'

'Do you think
Rommel will get here?'

'He'll get here
if he can, won't he? If not, not. There's no knowing, is there?' He spoke
dully, sodden with boredom, so, knowing she would get no response from him she
walked on. The barrage balloons were beginning to rise over the town. By the
time she reached the harbour, there were a dozen or more kidney shapes hanging
in mid-sky. She had an hour to get through before going to the hotel so walked
on till she was opposite the Pharos, then she sat on the wall, her legs hanging
above the sand, and watched the pleatings of ruby cloud that were forming round
the horizon. The Pharos, newly painted, reflected the sky. The scene absorbed
her so it was some minutes before she realized she was an object of prurient
excitement among the boys on the shore below. They were dodging about in their
ragged galabiahs, the eldest not more than ten or eleven, bending down,
sniggering, as they tried to see up her skirt. She shouted 'Yallah' but they
would not be driven off. She lifted her legs over the wall and sat the other
way but the boys ran up the steps to stare at her from the road. At last, sick
of their antics, she jumped down and went to the Cecil.

The atmosphere
inside the hotel was forlorn. The cosmopolitan patrons had gone with the rest
and even the bar, the venue of British naval officers, was empty except for
three army captains who stood together, constrained and sober, and another who
sat by himself. This last was near the door, watching for someone, and she
guessed from his vulnerable air, his expectation and his disappointment when
she came in, that he was waiting for Guy. He must be the shy Aidan Pratt From
her experience of Guy's acquaintances, she guessed that this man had asked Guy
to dinner not simply for the pleasure of his company. He had a need of his own.
He wanted to confide in Guy, or ask his advice, or get something from him. Guy
had probably promised him the evening and he, supposing he would have Guy's
company to himself, had not bargained for
her, or for
Castlebar. Guy was, as usual, double-booked, and not only from forgetfulness.
His engagements crowded upon each other because he brought down on himself more
dependence than any normal person could support.

Knowing the man
would not welcome her company, she wandered back to the foyer and sat there as
the lights came on inside and the twilight deepened outside. Guy did not appear
and, feeling solitary and exposed, she returned to the bar and approached Aidan
Pratt. When she spoke, his surprise was almost an affront.

'Guy Pringle
suggested I join you here.'

He stared with
animosity until she explained that she was Guy's wife, then he stumbled to his
feet, attempting to recoup his discourtesy with a smile. He was a heavy,
handsome young man with limp and oily black hair. He was still in his early
twenties, but his eyes were contained in hollows of brownish skin that aged
him. They were large eyes, very dark, and his smile did not dispel their
desolation. His aura of depression repelled her. She, too, had hoped to have
Guy to herself. He was, she realized, another victim of Guy's reassuring
warmth. Each one imagined himself the sole recipient. Guy would remake the
world for him, and for him alone. They clung to him and, in the end, he evaded
them or asked her to protect him from them. 'You answer the telephone, darling
...' Deeply buried, there was in him an instinct for preservation and the
instinct might save him in the end.

Aidan Pratt asked
her what she would drink. From the bar, he looked intently back at her, perhaps
wondering if he could confide in her, treat her as a surrogate for Guy, and she
realized she had seen him before. When he brought back her drink, she asked if
they had met somewhere. He shook his head but his smile took on vitality as
though her question had pleased him.

When he sat
opposite her, she felt his whole personality on edge. His face was moist, not
from heat, because the bar was air-conditioned, but from nervousness. His
uniform of fine gaberdine was expensively tailored but he fidgeted inside it as
though troubled by its fit. She asked where he was stationed. He was on leave
from Damascus.

'Damascus? Then
how did you come to know Guy?'

'Doesn't everyone
know Guy?' he gave a laugh. 'Last time I was here someone told me a story: two
men were wrecked on a desert island. Neither knew the other but they both knew
Guy Pringle.'

'Yes, I heard
that story in Cairo.'

'I met him here,
in this bar, on my last leave. Next day I went out to the college and we walked
to Ramleh, talking all the way there and back. A memorable day. We arranged to
meet here again the following evening. I waited three hours before I discovered
he wasn't even in Alex. He'd gone to Cairo for the weekend.' As Harriet showed
no surprise, he asked, 'Does that sort of thing often happen?'

'You remember the
bread-and-butter fly that lived on weak tea and cream? If it couldn't find any,
it died. Alice said, "But that must happen very often," and the gnat
said, "It always happens."'

'Always? He makes
a habit of letting people down?'

'He doesn't mean
to let them down. He takes on too much. People persuade him to do what he
hasn't time to do so, inevitably,
someone
is let down.'

Aidan's mouth
tightened and he said with slight hauteur, 'As you are here, I suppose we can
depend on him tonight?'

'Yes, he
'
ll turn
up sooner or later. I want to take him back to Cairo.' She thought it an odd
time for anyone to come here on leave and said, 'Things are pretty bad, you
know.'

'You mean, worse
than usual? Isn't it the same old romp as last time? They reach Sollum and then
they're driven back?'

'They're much
nearer than that. They said they'd reach Alex tonight.'

'Obviously you
didn't believe them or you wouldn't be in Alex yourself. Still, you're right.
He oughtn't to stay out where he is. A lot could happen before he got wind of
it.'

'I'm glad you
agree with me. How long are you staying here?'

'Not long. I
could only get forty-eight hours so I return tomorrow.'

'I envy you. I
wish we were safely in Damascus.'

'Oh, Damascus
isn't all that safe. We have our troubles. The Free French are in control but a
good many Syrians don't want them. We often hear pistol shots. People get
killed,' he
paused and dropped his voice.
'Friends get killed. A friend of mine looked out to see what was happening and
a bullet went through his head.'

He glanced at her
to see how this information affected her, and quickly glanced away. The loss of
a friend and, she would guess, no ordinary friend! So this was the tragedy he
was nursing within himself! She said, 'I'm sorry,' but of course it was Guy he
wanted. Only Guy would hear the whole story because only Guy could give the
true, consoling word. She added, 'Very sorry,' and as she spoke, he made a
gesture, so poignantly conveying his loneliness and heartbreak that she knew
she had, indeed, seen him before.

She was puzzled
by the familiarity of that gesture. He stared down at the floor. There was
nothing more to be said but then, at the most opportune moment, Guy entered the
bar.

His glasses
pushed into his hair, his arms stretched over an insecure burden of books and
papers, he hurried to them, saying delightedly, 'So you found each other all
right!' He bent to kiss Harriet. 'I didn't tell you who he was. I knew you'd
recognize him and I wanted to surprise you.'