Читать книгу Household Ghosts: A James Kennaway Omnibus - James Kennaway - Страница 14

SIX

JIMMY CAIRNS SAID nothing to the Colonel as they made their way over to the Naafi canteen to inspect it. The Colonel was investigating some rumours about pilfering. He was his usual cool and efficient self, and he treated his Adjutant almost as if he were a private secretary. He turned to him constantly asking him to make a note of some detail. But on their way back to H.Q. block, Jimmy lifted his eyes from the ground and looked the Colonel in the face for the first time that afternoon. He was much too honest a man to harbour something in his heart for long. He liked to get things into the open.

‘Colonel?’

‘Jimmy?’

‘I’m afraid they won’t like it, sir.’

‘Who? The Naafi people? They’re not meant to.’

‘No, sir; you know fine who I mean.’ The low afternoon sun, shimmering red through the cloud, dazzled him as he spoke.

The Colonel stopped and put his hands on his hips. He frowned, and moved his moustache.

‘You mean the officers?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘I wouldn’t do it unless I thought it were necessary.’

‘But, Colonel, it’s almost an insult. Some of them have been dancing for thirty years or more.’

‘I’m afraid it’s an order.’ The Colonel started forward again, but Jimmy persevered.

‘Surely the officers above field rank might be …’

‘I said it was an order.’ The Colonel’s voice was low and icy. Then he stretched his neck and went on in his usual tone. ‘There; the windows in that block could do with a wash. I suppose it’s all this snow. What’s the building used for?’

‘Band Block, sir,’ Jimmy answered absently.

‘I see.’

The Regimental Sergeant-Major was standing just inside the door to H.Q. and he came noisily to a salute, bringing all the corporals and orderlies in the vicinity to attention.

‘Party–party ’shun!’

‘Mr Riddick?’

‘Sir.’ The voice was thick and immensely loud.

‘Please ask the Pipe-Major to come and see me.’

The R.S.M. despatched an orderly to fetch Mr McLean straight away. He then retired to his office and removing his bonnet called for his cup of tea. Nothing delighted him more than that the Pipe-Major should be on the carpet. It seemed to him that during Jock’s term of office the pipes and drums had been granted too many privileges. But then Mr Riddick had no more music in him than Major Charlie Scott.

When the Adjutant and the Colonel walked into the Colonel’s office they were surprised to find Jock there. The Colonel was more than surprised; he was irritated. Nobody had any right to enter his office in his absence. Jock turned and nodded: he was still flushed from his conversation in the Mess and he was spoiling for a battle, but the Colonel still managed to keep his patience. He held his stick in both hands and glanced down at it.

‘Hullo, Jock,’ he said with a stiff informality.

Jock rolled his eyes. ‘Do I intrude?’

The Colonel said, ‘Don’t go, Jimmy,’ and Cairns closed the door behind him. He would have much preferred to leave, and although he was not a man to look at the ceiling or at the floor, he could not make up his mind whether he would be right to meet Barrow’s eye, or Jock’s. He glanced from one to the other, and fidgeted. Barrow laid his stick on his desk and walked briskly round to his chair.

‘What can we do for you?’

Jock turned, almost pirouetted:

‘I was wondering if you wanted me this afternoon.’

‘Oh, thank you very much.’ The Colonel was both serious and polite. ‘I don’t think there are any more queries just at present. I’m afraid it must all be a terrible bore for you, just now.’

‘Bore?’ Jock was at his most infuriating. ‘Bore? A-huh. What have you been up to, the day?’

The Colonel unlocked the drawer of his desk and brought out his leather blotter and some papers. It was the sort of blotter a boy is given by a grandparent who shops at Fortnum’s. He had kept it for many years. He turned over some papers, pretending to concentrate on them, and took his reading glasses from his tunic pocket. He buttoned the pocket carefully before laying the case down just beyond the blotter, on the desk. He did not feel like telling Jock the exact purpose of his inspection.

‘Jimmy and I have been running through some of that fire drill. I noticed on the map that there aren’t any extinguishers in the body of the Naafi.’

Jock replied indignantly. ‘There are three or four there. I mind them fine.’

‘Really? They’re not on the chart.’

He looked at Jimmy, who nodded in agreement and who was about to say something when Jock interrupted.

‘I was never good at the paper work, Colonel. But you’ll find them there right enough. Is that not right, Jimmy?’

Jimmy nodded. He was again about to speak when the Colonel cut in. ‘Oh, quite right. We’ve just been over and checked.’ He smiled. ‘I don’t enjoy the paper work either.’

‘I would have thought that Whitehall gave a man a taste for it.’

‘Curzon Street, as a matter of fact. Well, Jock, thanks for calling in. I mustn’t keep you.’ The Colonel would not have put it as clumsily as that had he not intended the hint to be translated as an order. But Jock paused, his weight thrown on one foot. His words did not come as he had intended them to. They came in an almost apologetic rush.

‘This … eh … This dancing caper. You don’t expect me to turn up, do you?’

Jimmy felt suddenly cold. He glanced at the Colonel who had removed his glasses.

‘All officers.’

Jock hesitated, smiled sourly.

‘It’s not on, boy.’

The Colonel replaced his glasses and fingered his papers again. But he did not use his artillery. He spoke lightly like a nanny.

‘I’m not much looking forward to 7.15 myself. But I think we’d best all turn up.’

Jock’s smile had changed to something nearer a sneer. He spoke more rudely than he had dared before. ‘Is that an order, when you say you think we’d best all turn up?’

‘If you like to put it that way.’

Jimmy moved the handle of the door, but Jock still hesitated. He walked back a step or two towards the desk and he spoke in quite a different tone of voice. He was pleading.

‘Look here, boy, if …’

‘Colonel. I prefer to be addressed as Colonel.’ His voice was raised and now Jock, too, grew angry. ‘Very well then, Colonel. If I and some …’

‘If I may suggest; some other time.’ The Colonel did not look up, and Jock was badly stung. He clenched his fists. His colour rose. Then he straightened up.

‘O.K., Colonel,’ he said through his teeth. ‘O.K.’

He made a great business of the final salute, smashing his heels together, and Barrow nodded. As he had no hat on, he was not called to return the salute. Jock did not look at Cairns as he marched out. He did not look at anybody: he did not even remember to return Mr Riddick’s salute as he passed through the lobby. He looked neither to left or right. He marched.

Much to the R.S.M.’s disappointment, Mr McLean was faultlessly dressed; and he did not look perturbed. Then he never did. Mr Riddick gave a phlegmy cough, about turned, and knocked on the Colonel’s door.

‘March in, Mr McLean.’ He tried to make it sound as near to an order as possible. ‘March in.’

The Pipe-Major walked into the room and he came to a halt without making much noise about it. He did not bang his feet on the ground.

Mr Riddick was listening at the door, but his face soon wore a disappointed expression. The Colonel was explaining to the Pipe-Major just how he wanted the officers to dance and he was speaking in a friendly way.

‘Oh yes, sir.’ Mr McLean sounded like a friendly game-keeper. ‘Oh yes; we’ll manage that, sir.’

‘Have you a piper competent to do the job?’

‘All the pipers are good, sir. They’re a good band. But I think I had better go along myself. It will make it easier, I’m thinking.’ There was just a wash of the Atlantic in his voice.

‘You needn’t if there’s somebody else.’

‘Well, if I can’t some morning, then we’ll send along Corporal Fraser. He’s tactful, you know.’

‘Very good, Pipe-Major.’

‘Thank you, sir.’ The Pipe-Major seemed to want to go on talking. ‘It is a while since we have had a subalterns’ parade of this sort, though Colonel Sinclair once suggested it would be a good idea.’

‘It isn’t only the subalterns, you understand.’

‘Oh? But surely the senior officers …’

The Colonel looked annoyed. He touched his moustache.

‘The order affects all officers.’

‘All the officers. I see, sir.’ The Pipe-Major sighed. It was time he left. But as he turned the Colonel said:

‘I’m not a great one for spit and polish, Pipe-Major, but the windows of your Band Block could do with a wash.’ He said this quite pleasantly, and Mr McLean looked concerned.

‘Oh, aye, sir. We’ll get that seen to straight away, sir; straight away.’ Then he smiled uncertainly, and the Colonel smiled back.

‘Straight away.’

‘Right this minute, sir. Thank you very much, sir.’

‘That will be all.’

The Pipe-Major nearly knocked over Mr Riddick when he opened the door. The eavesdropper moved his feet sharply, and coughed. ‘Cup-a-tea for you, Mr McLean?’

‘Thank you, Mr Riddick. That would be fine,’ the Pipe-Major replied in his comfortable way and they went into the little office. But as they closed the door behind them, orderlies in the next room raised their eyebrows and shrugged. It was never a good idea for these two to get together. Evenin the Mess the sergeants did not trust them in the same game of Housey-housey. It always ended in the same way.

When they took off their bonnets it could be seen that both men were a little bald, but while Mr Riddick’s hair was quite grey Mr McLean’s was sandy in colour. They sat silently for a while; then the R.S.M. launched straight into the meat of the matter.

‘Captain Cairns was in here this afternoon talkin’ about this dancing class. Said he had half a mind to chuck up the adjutancy.’

‘Aye?’ Mr McLean took five lumps.

‘Told him not to be daft. I’ve seen a change of colonel before today and there’s always trouble.’

‘A change is usually for the better. That’s true in life.’ Mr McLean enjoyed universals, but they were not for the R.S.M.

‘Don’t know anything about that. But I do know it would be damned disloyal to march off now. As Adjutant he has responsibilities, same as the rest of us.’

‘Aye. But it’s a big change for him. He’s known Jock all the way from El Alamein.’

‘That’s not the point. I can tell you, Mr McLean – I wouldn’t express an opinion to anyone else, mind you – but I can tell you, this one’ll be the better Colonel. Better by far. Shall I tell you why, eh?’

It was the beginning. The expression on the Pipe-Major’s face did not change, but he said gently, ‘I don’t think I’ll be agreeing with you here.’ He nodded his head. Mr McLean was anxious that it should be a pleasant chat.

‘Right,’ the R.S.M. said. ‘I’ll tell you why he’s the better Colonel. Because he’s a gentleman.’

Mr McLean smiled a wise smile and the R.S.M. repeated himself more emphatically, with just a flicker of malice in his boss eye.

‘Because he’s a gentleman.’

Slowly came the reply. ‘You’re the terrible snob, Mr Riddick. It is always the same with you people who start in the Brigade of Guards. You’re such terrible snobs; it is wicked.’ As he grew angry, he spoke more quickly.

‘Mr McLean. I know what I’m saying.’ The R.S.M. poured out another cup of tea and passed his hand over his short thin hair. He made a sour face. ‘Rankers may make Quarter-masters. But believe you me, sir, they don’t make battalion commanders.’ ‘Sir,’ from one Warrant Officer to another is a gauntlet.

‘That’s lies. Jock was the most successful Battalion Commander in the war.’

‘The war was a different sort of thing. You’re arguing off the point, again, Mr McLean. Of course he’s a good soldier, no one denies it; but the point is that he should be in my job or yours. And I’m not the sort of man who ought to command the Battalion.’

Mr McLean controlled himself.

‘Ah well,’ he said, ‘we shall see what we shall see.’ Then he added, in spite of himself, ‘But I think it is Jock who should have been appointed.’

Mr Riddick was in a keen mood. He wagged his nobbly finger.

‘The very fact that we call him Jock … Och, you must see it.’

Suddenly Mr McLean was unleashed. He spoke quickly. ‘You’re a diehard Tory; yes, and it’s you that stirs up class hatreds.’

Mr Riddick pushed back his shoulders. ‘That’s a damned impudent thing to say, Mr McLean.’

‘It is true. Yes it is.’

‘I never knew we had a bloody Communist as Pipe-Major.’

The R.S.M. now stood up and towered above the round figure of Mr McLean, who half closed his eyes, and half whispered, half shouted his reply. ‘I have told you before, I am a Liberal, Mr Riddick. A Whig, a Whig, a Whig!’

Rather patchily the R.S.M.’s complexion was changing from blue to vermilion.

‘It’s an unwritten rule in this Battalion, Mr McLean, that politics will not be discussed. I’d bring that to your attention.’

‘Och, you and your rules. It’s playing at soldiers that you are.’

‘Pipe-Major; I’m reminding you of my rank.’ Mr Riddick put on his bonnet. He was shouting now.

‘And a man of your rank should know better than to accuse one of his colleagues of being a Communist, when he’s a Whig. You had best go back to your Grenadiers or whatever it was.’

‘Are you attemptin’ to insult my late regiment? Tell me that, Mr McLean.’ Mr Riddick’s voice was low and menacing but the Pipe-Major, after several years of practice, knew just how far he could go. He put on his bonnet and prepared to leave.

‘No,’ he said.

‘If you want to insult my late regiment then I think we’d better meet in the gymnasium.’

The Pipe-Major smiled and shook his head.

‘Peter Pan; that’s what we should call you, Mr Riddick. Man, we’re far too old to be meeting in the gymnasium. You’d better go home now. Muffin the Mule’s on in a few moments.’

‘By God, you’re a bloody impudent man. I’ve a mind to put you under close arrest. D’you hear me? March you right inside.’

‘Then it’s high time I was leaving. Mr Riddick, I am thanking you for my cup of tea. It has been invigorating.’

But the R.S.M. did not return his smile.

‘Pipe-Major, I observed when marching by today that the windows of the Band Block are in a dirty condition.’

‘Did you, now?’ The Pipe-Major’s eyebrows nearly touched the fringe of his hair. ‘Well, I’ll tell you what, Mr Riddick, I’ll go right back there now and see that they are cleaned, just for your sake. That’s what I’ll be doing.’

Shortly after the Pipe-Major left, the R.S.M. spotted a soldier with the lace of his boot undone. He was put on a charge for being improperly dressed, straight away. He was lucky not to be put in gaol.