Fortunes of War

by Olivia Manning

  Once, before history began, a real sea had filled the basin and beaten up against the cliff. It drained away and then the ancient Egyptians had come to give to the human spirit beauty and dignity. As she reflected on those first Egyptians, cries came from the minaret nearest to her and at once all the air was filled with the long, wailing notes of the muezzins calling the faithful to prayer. The kites, roused from sleep, floated up from the buildings in unhurried flight and began to glide with gentle, dilatory grace just above the roof tops. Harriet looking down on them, saw they were not as they seemed from below, a muddy brown but, catching the sun on their feathers, they gleamed like birds cast from bronze.

  She was startled by another voice that joined with the muezzins, the voice of Madame Wilk. ‘Come in, Mrs Pringle, it is forbidden to be on the roof.’

  ‘I’m quite safe, Madame Wilk.’

  ‘It is not for you to be safe, Madame Pringle. If you fall and are killed, the police will make trouble for me. So, at once, come in.’

  Harriet went in and Madame Wilk banged the bolts into place, saying, ‘Ah, I have too many worries.’

  Harriet sat down to partake of a breakfast that was always the same. It began with six large, soft, oversweet dates served in a little green glass dish. The next course would be a small egg that might be boiled, fried or poached but always had the same taste of damp and decay.

  Harriet was, like most of the pension guests, on the lookout for somewhere to live, yet as she thought of having to leave Egypt, of having to move once again to an unknown country, even the Pension Wilk seemed a desirable resting place.

  On her way out, Harriet stopped beside Major Perry’s table to ask, ‘How did Madame Wilk get the idea we are in retreat?’

  Perry, whose face had been drooping, reacted to the question like a bad actor. Puffing out a stench of stale alcohol, he laughed, ‘Ha, ha, ha. You know what Cairo’s like! Some surplus equipment was returned to the depot at Heliopolis and the locals got the wind up. Just the usual scare and rushing to the telephone.’

  ‘I didn’t know we had any surplus equipment.’

  ‘Stuff to be broken up for spares. The desert’s littered with it.’

  ‘So there’s nothing to worry about?’

  ‘Nothing, girlie, nothing. When we get reinforcements, it’ll be as right as rain.’

  Harriet laughed. ‘That’s fine, only it doesn’t rain here, does it?’

  Guy and Harriet had arrived in Egypt during another ‘Emergency’, almost exactly a year before the present one. Then, as now, the Germans had reached Sollum and were likely to come further, but the fact did not mean much to the refugees who had suffered a much more acute loss. They reached Alexandria still mourning for Greece and their memories of Greece, and Egypt evoked in them disgust and a fear of its strangeness.

  Their train had drawn into the Cairo station at midnight and those who had money in Egypt found themselves taxis and went to hotels. The rest, having nothing but useless drachma, waited about, bemused, not knowing where to go or what to do. Eventually an army sergeant took charge of them. Telling them that quarters had been requisitioned for them, he had led them a long way through back streets to a building as discouraging as a poor law institution. Here they were shown one dormitory for the women, another for the men and a single cold shower to be used by both. The dormitories with their iron bedsteads, army blankets, dismal lighting and smell of carbolic, had a prison atmosphere but no one complained. The refugees felt they had to put a good face on things and look grateful, imagining, until the manager brought round the bills, that they were the guests of the military. They learned later that the place had been a brothel until closed down by the army medical corps and the brothel-keeper, put out of business, was free to recoup his losses at the expense of the refugees. They would have paid no more at a first-class hotel and Guy, trying to make light of things, said, ‘Now we know what it means to be “gypped”.’

  No food was served in the building and the new arrivals, gathered next morning in the hall, expected the sergeant to return and lead them to an army canteen. He did not come. No one offered them help of any kind. It came to them gradually that now they must look after themselves.

  The Pringles, standing in the hall with the others, were surprised to see Professor Lord Pinkrose near the door. He was reputed to be a rich man but, ever ready to conserve his wealth, he had joined the penniless crew that looked to the army for succour. And here he was, breakfastless like the rest, but having an air of knowing what he was about. With him were two men whom Guy had employed as teachers at the institute in Bucharest.

  They were called Toby Lush and Dubedat. Toby, in his usual get-up of old tweed jacket and baggy ‘bags’, was clicking his teeth impatiently on his pipe stem. He could not stay still. Seeing the manager, he held to him, saying. ‘We ordered a taxi for ten o’clock. Not here yet. Keep an eye out for it, there’s a good chap.’ The other man, Dubedat, elevated his thin hooked nose, his expression stern, disassociating himself from Toby’s restless shuffling and gasping while Pinkrose, gripping his trilby hat, looked down at his feet. The hat, that was usually on his head, had left an indentation upon his strange, dog-brown hair.

  The manager detached himself from Toby who said, ‘I think he’ll fix things for us.’

  Pinkrose, lifting his grey lizard face out of the folds of his scarf, sniffed. ‘I sincerely hope so. I made an appointment for ten-thirty and would not wish to be late. It is impendent upon us . . . yes, yes, impendent upon us to show respect for the man who holds the reins.’

  Harriet whispered to Guy, ‘What do you think they’re up to?’

  Guy, adjusting his glasses to look at them, said, ‘Why should they be up to anything?’

  ‘Oh, they’re up to something, all right.’

  Seeing Guy beaming on them with such good will, she said, ‘Have you forgotten that Pinkrose reported you as unfit for Organization work?’

  ‘Did he? Oh, yes, I believe he did.’

  ‘You know he did. As for the other two clowns — they went out of their way to discredit you in Athens.’

  ‘They behaved badly,’ Guy agreed but his expression remained benign.

  The brothel had not been air-conditioned and the refugees were drowning in the indoor heat. Guy’s face glistened and his glasses kept sliding down his nose. A big, untidy man with books in every pocket, he could not but be amiable. Cast up here together in this wretched billet, he saw Pinkrose, Dubedat and Lush as companions in misfortune and bore them no grudge.

  Making a sudden bolt out into the street, Toby Lush came back in a state of blustering excitement. ‘It’s here. It’s outside the next door house. It’s been there all the time.’

  When the three were gone, the Pringles began to realize that they could not stand for ever, lost and purposeless, in the dismal hall. Others were beginning to venture out into the dazzle and unnerving unfamiliarity of the Cairo street. They needed money. They had eaten in the army canteen at Alexandria and that had been their only meal in four days. They needed food but, even more, they needed reassurance.

  Guy said, ‘I ought to report to the Organization office, wherever that is.’ Harriet thought it would be easier to find the British Embassy. They set out. Reaching a crowded main road, they felt hostility in the heat and tumult and became reckless. They stopped a taxi and were grateful to the driver for taking them in. He drove them to the Embassy where Harriet had to remain outside as hostage while Guy. went in and borrowed the fare. They had stopped beside an ornamental wrought-iron gate but Guy was not allowed that way. A porter directed him to a small side building which was the chancellery.

  Harriet, gazing through the gate at the dry lawns and flower-beds, wondered how plant life survived at all under this blaze of sun. In Athens, when they left, gardens and parks had been massed with flowers. In the olive groves, under the trees, the flowers stood as high as one’s waist. Would she ever see the like again?

  Guy, who had gone nervously into the c
hancellery, came out waving an Egyptian pound note. ‘We have a friend here.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Old Dobbie Dobson.’

  They went joyfully in to see Dobbie Dobson who greeted them just as joyfully. They had not known him well but now it seemed wonderful that they had known him at all. Taking both of Harriet’s hands, he put her into a chair and smiled at her. The greetings over, the Pringles seemed to come to a stop. They wanted nothing more than to sit for a while in Dobson’s air-conditioned office, among the furnishings of Spanish mahogany, the polished brasswork, the sense of order and richness, and regain themselves, but Dobson had to hear what had happened to them.

  Pulling themselves together, they described their escape, making humour out of the hungry voyage, the vermin, the lice in the cabins, the passages boarded up because the freighters had been prisoner transports, the useless lifeboats, with rusted-in davits. Dobson laughed with them.

  ‘Well, well, you’re safe,’ he said. ‘That’s the main thing.’

  Looking out at the lawn running down to the river, Harriet glimpsed the possibility of a settled life in Cairo. But it was only a glimpse. Such a life had not been offered them here and she was too tired and on edge to pursue the thought of it.

  They had not seen Dobson for seven months and it seemed to them he had aged beyond that time. He was putting on weight while Harriet and Guy had grown sadly thin. He had lost his tufts of baby-soft hair and the skin was beginning to darken beneath his eyes. Only his diplomat’s charm had remained untouched by this injurious climate. He said, ‘Well, now, you’ll be wanting money.’

  Guy agreed he needed money but more than that he wanted to know how the Organization stood in Egypt. Who was in charge?

  ‘You probably know the director. His name’s Colin Gracey. He was in Athens at one time.’

  Guy stared at Dobson and Harriet stared at Guy. Dobson could not have spoken a more disastrous name but, knowing nothing of affairs in Athens, he was merely puzzled by their dismay. Guy was too discomposed to speak and Harriet explained that Toby Lush and Dubedat had bolted to Athens, fearing an invasion of Bucharest, and had made themselves so useful to Gracey, he had actually put Dubedat in charge of the institute.

  ‘Oh, no!’ To Dobson this seemed beyond belief.

  ‘Yes. Gracey was supposed to be an invalid — he had some sort of back trouble — and he managed to get a flight to Syria, leaving Dubedat and Lush in charge. I will say that Guy won in the end, but that won’t help him now.’

  ‘So there was a struggle for power in Athens!’ Dobson looked at Guy. ‘I can’t think Gracey will hold it against you. You’ll have to see him, of course.’ Dobson, with no wish to involve himself in Guy’s situation, was now extending tact rather than friendship.

  Before Guy need speak, an Embassy servant came in with cups of Turkish coffee. The concentrated caffeine in the small cups was as stimulating as alcohol to someone who seldom drank coffee. Guy, as he emptied his cup, sat up sharply, his expression decided. ‘I won’t see Gracey and I will not work for him.’

  Harriet, worn out by strain and their three hungry days, could scarcely keep back her tears. ‘What are we to do? Where can we go?’ Her voice broke on these questions and Guy hung his head. Yet he remained obdurate. He knew his own worth and had expected to find here a responsible director who would appreciate his qualities. Instead he was again subordinate to a man he despised. Having once overcome Gracey’s hangers-on, he would not now come to terms with his cabal. He said, ‘I’m as highly qualified as Gracey, which is something he doesn’t like. The only qualification he looks for is willingness to flatter him and do his work for him. I won’t flatter him.’

  Harriet said, ‘But others will. Now we know where those three were going this morning. “The man who holds the reins” — Gracey! How on earth did Pinkrose know that he was here?’

  ‘I told him,’ Dobson admitted. ‘Pinkrose rang the Embassy this morning, about ten o’clock, and he was put on to me.’

  ‘And wasted no time going to see Gracey,’ Harriet put a hand on Guy’s arm. ‘Darling, you’ll put yourself in the wrong if you don’t go too.’

  Guy, seeing her eyes were wet, conceded a little ground. ‘If he wants to speak to me, he can send for me. But I won’t work for him.’

  Harriet appealed to Dobson. ‘Guy’s in a reserved occupation. What happens if he refuses work offered him? Will he be placed under arrest?’

  Dobson laughed. ‘Nothing as dreadful as that, but he’ll have no salary.’

  Seeing them displaced, homeless, moneyless and futureless, Harriet put her face down into her hands and Dobson, touched by her desolation, turned his persuasive charm on to Guy. ‘I really think, my dear fellow, you should just go and see Gracey. After all, he is your senior official. It would be the courteous thing to do.’

  Guy, shaken by this mention of courtesy, raised troubled eyes and at that moment the servant returned and handed Dobson an envelope. Passing it to Guy, Dobson said, ‘This is for you; an advance on salary, sanctioned by Gracey.’

  ‘He knows I am here?’

  ‘Yes. While you were paying off the taxi, I spoke to the finance officer and he got on to the Organization office. I knew you would want some cash.’

  Guy held the envelope for a few moments then put it into his pocket, saying, ‘It’s due to me. It does not change things, but I will go to the office. As you say, it would be courteous to do so. Where can I find Gracey?’

  ‘The offices are on Gezira. They’re rather splendid.’

  This fact did not impress Guy. ‘We’ll have something to eat and see him after that.’

  ‘Don’t go too early. Offices here shut for the siesta and don’t open before five.’

  Coming out to the chancellery with them, Dobson squeezed Harriet’s shoulder. ‘Cheer up. You’re safe and well. As they say in the RAF: “Any prang you walk away from is a good prang”. And Egypt’s not too bad. You probably think it’s weird but it has a certain macabre charm.’

  He recommended them to a restaurant at Bulacq, noted for its river fish, and waved them away. The restaurant was underground with bare wooden tables and the fish tasted chiefly of mud, but food was food, and the Pringles were restored. Harriet, over coffee, commended Guy to his face for his warmth, good humour and generosity, telling him he had only to be himself with Gracey and Gracey would be won by him. He could get anything he wanted. And he should stop and think how fortunate he was. His sight unfitted him for the army, that was true, but he could be directed into a much worse job. While other young men were fighting a war, he was only asked to teach and lecture. The times being what they were, personal pride was out of place. Guy was forced to agree. He said, ‘Well, if he offers me something, I’ll take it,’ and seeing him relent Harriet began to imagine the meeting with Gracey would put everything right. And so it may have done had Gracey been in his office at five o’clock.

  There were two girls, Armenians, in the outer office and they apologized for Gracey’s absence. They admitted he was due in at five, but could not say when he would arrive. One girl said, ‘Sometimes he does not come at all.’

  Questioning her, Guy discovered that Gracey had gone out that morning with three English visitors, one of them a lord. He had not been back since. The Pringles, if they wished, could wait in the hope that he would come in for his letters.

  It was evident from their manner of speaking that the girls had very often to apologize for Gracey. Waiting for nearly two hours, the Pringles realized that here, as in Athens, Gracey treated the Organization as a mere extension of his social life.

  ‘But it is a splendid office,’ Harriet said, trying to soften Guy’s resentment of Gracey’s behaviour. ‘A flat like this would be wonderful, wouldn’t it?’

  The office was at the top of a block of flats that jutted into the river at the northern end of the island. The river, reflecting light into the rooms, grew red with sunset and in the distance the pyramids came into view. It seemed to Harriet
they could do worse than remain in Egypt and live in a place like this, but Guy said, ‘Don’t be silly. We could never afford to live here.’

  The sun set, darkness came down, the lights were switched on and the girls prepared to leave the office. But the Pringles could stay.

  ‘Sometimes Mr Gracey is very late.’

  Guy decided they would stay another fifteen minutes. At the end of that time, when he was about to give up, Gracey strolled in and stopped at the sight of him. With no one to warn him that there were visitors in the office, he looked startled and seemed about to take to his heels. Guy stood up. Gracey, unable to escape, gave him a cold nod and said, ‘Please sit down,’ then went into his office where he could be heard slitting envelopes and shifting papers about before calling to the Pringles to enter.

  He had adopted an air of languid dignity, unsmiling and weary. At first glance his appearance was not much changed. His fair, classical head looked youthful and his long, delicate body moved with grace but gradually the youthful impression crumbled. His hair was more grey than gold and his face had dried and was contracting into lines. Egypt had aged him, as it had aged Dobson, but more than that: it had depleted what Dobson had retained. In Athens, a spoilt invalid made much of by Cookson and Cookson’s friend, Gracey had been all smiles and charm. Now he did not smile.

  ‘Well, Pringle, what are we to do with you?’

  Guy was silent, leaving Gracey to answer his own question. Gracey, apparently having no answer, frowned as though it were inconsiderate of Guy to survive the Greek campaign.

  During the afternoon, which they had spent at the Metro cinema, Guy had reflected on all Harriet had said at luncheon. He knew he was privileged to be reserved in a congenial occupation. Unlike most men, his chances of surviving the war were high. The least he could do was submit and accept what came to him. Having decided this, he had one moment of weakness as they set out for Gezira: ‘If only it wasn’t Gracey!’

  Harriet said, ‘You despise Gracey, so the greater the glory in swallowing your pride and obeying him. Your political beliefs should tell you that.’