Fortunes of War

by Olivia Manning

  ‘I really hadn’t much weight to lose.’

  Dobson put his fork into his mille feuille and said as the cream and jam oozed out, ‘Yum, yum,’ and put a large piece into his mouth then asked, as he sometimes did, about her work at the American Embassy.

  ‘Coming to an end, I fear.’ Harriet gave a wry laugh. ‘Perhaps we’re all coming to an end. Iqal was joking about cutting our throats — perhaps not just joking. He seemed to resent that occasion when the ambassador drove a tank through the palace gates.’

  Dobson, putting more pastry into his mouth, swayed his head knowingly, swallowed and said, ‘We’re always having trouble with Farouk. He’s a fat, spoilt baby, but he’s a clever baby. The other day H.E. waited over an hour for an audience. He thought the king was with his ministers but instead he had a girl with him. She put her head out of the door and seeing H.E. there in all his regalia, she went off into screams of laughter and slammed the door on him. When he eventually got in, he found Farouk sprawled on a sofa, languid and irritable — post coitum, no doubt. He thought, with the hun so close, he could tell us to clear out. H.E. explained why we must hold Egypt at all cost. Farouk scarcely bothered to listen and at the end, he sighed and said, “Oh, very well. Stay if you must. But when your war’s over, for God’s sake, put down the white man’s burden and go.” ’

  Dobson, having told his story, looked over the garden as though expecting another guest. Harriet hoped she would now hear why he had invited her here, but before anything more could be said, two Egyptian women stopped to speak to him. He jumped up, became at once diplomatically effusive, and they talked together in French. The women, dressed in an embellished version of Parisian fashion, wore black dresses to which they had added brooches, necklaces and sprays of flowers. Their skirts ended an inch above the knee but their sleeves, as required by the prophet, came down to their wrists. They flirted with Dobson, their eyes enhanced by eye-veils, and moved their heads, giving small, rapid turns this way and that so their earrings danced. Harriet had heard that Dobson, the only bachelor among the senior diplomats, was regarded in Cairo as ‘quite a catch’. One of the women invited him to a cocktail party and he accepted as though overwhelmed by the thought of it, but when the women moved away, he fell back in his chair with a long, exhausted sigh. ‘My policy is to accept everything and go to nothing. Where’s that husband of yours?’

  ‘Are you expecting him?’

  ‘Certainly I’m expecting him. I rang him first thing this morning and asked him to be here at five-thirty. It’s now nearly six and I ought to be back in my office.’

  ‘You want to see him about something? Is it important?’

  ‘It is for him.’ Dobson laughed, making light of Guy’s non-appearance, but it was an aggravated laugh. Harriet looked anxiously towards the entrance, fearing that Dobson would go and the important matter be nullified, all because Guy could never turn up on time. She said to excuse him, ‘People make too many claims on him so he ends up with more engagements than the day will hold. The result is, he’s late for everything and made later by all the telephone calls he makes to explain why he’ll be late.’

  Dobson thought this very funny. ‘How does he get away with it?’

  ‘If he didn’t get away with it, he’d have to learn not to be late. People spoil him and make him worse than he need be.’

  The afterglow of sunset was taking on the green of dusk. The evening star appeared as from nowhere, radiating long rays of white light, and the coloured electric bulbs were lit among the creepers. All about, in the high house walls, windows were thrown open and people looked down on the brilliant garden.

  Harriet said, ‘When we first came here from Greece, those lighted windows frightened me. I thought, “What a target we are!” ’

  But at that moment, the lights meant nothing but the passing of time, and her fear was the fear that Guy would not turn up at all.

  Dobson said, ‘Ho, there he is!’ forgiving Guy on sight for being three-quarters of an hour late.

  Guy, lost between the tables, was dishevelled as ever. He had broken his glasses and mended them roughly with adhesive tape. At least, Harriet consoled herself, he hasn’t brought anyone with him.

  When Dobson waved to him, he came over at a hurried trot, breathlessly explained how someone or something had detained him. Dobson, all irritation gone, said, ‘Don’t worry. Don’t worry at all. What are you going to drink?’ When at last the table was resettled, he said impressively, ‘Now, then!’ They were going to hear what this meeting was all about.

  ‘I’ve received a telegram from Bevington.’

  ‘Our chairman?’

  ‘Lord Bevington himself.’ Dobson started to laugh so that his body was shaken by a sort of nervous hiccups. ‘I remember when Bevington came here on a visit. It was my night on duty at the Embassy and I’d just got my head down when the boab looked in — huge, coal-black fellow — and croaked at me, “De lord am come!” Dear me, I said to myself, it’s the day of judgement . . . Well, now! first things first. Colin Gracey has been given the push.’

  ‘He’s leaving the Organization?’

  ‘You needn’t be surprised. Pinkrose cabled the London office and accused him of neglect of duty, incompetence, cowardice in the face of the enemy and, most heinous crime of all, going to Palestine without letting Pinkrose know. He also, as a make-weight, said he had evidence of immoral practices.’

  ‘Really!’ Harriet was interested. ‘What immoral practices? The houseboat? Mustapha Quant?’

  ‘Probably. A Turk was mentioned.’

  Guy looked troubled. ‘They can’t simply take Pinkrose’s word for it. There must be an official inquiry.’

  ‘There has been an inquiry. In any case, Pinkrose’s complaints were only the last of a series made by British residents. Pinkrose carried most weight because he is known to Bevington who cabled the Embassy for confirmation. I cabled back that Gracey had indeed fled and the office was shut. This clinched it. We were informed that if Gracey returned he should be handed a letter ordering him to Aden which is, I believe, the Organization’s Devil’s Island.’

  Guy took off his glasses and, the tape giving way, the lenses fell apart. He asked, ‘But who will replace him? Are they flying someone out?’

  ‘No.’ Smiling blandly, Dobson watched Guy fidgeting with the broken frame then said, ‘Bevington has chosen a London-appointed man — the only one left in Egypt.’

  ‘Guy?’

  Dobson turned his smile on to Harriet who threw back her head and laughed with delight. Dobson looked to Guy for a similar reaction but Guy, though he had flushed with pleasure, looked disturbed. ‘Is this really fair to Gracey?’

  ‘You don’t have to worry about Gracey. He’s not likely to take himself to Aden. Even before he left here, he was inquiring about a possible passage to the Cape, saying that the exigencies of life in a war zone were telling on his health.’

  Guy still did not seem satisfied and Harriet, taking the glasses out of his hand, said, ‘Forget Gracey. What you have to think about is the Organization. If Bevington has chosen you for the job, it’s up to you to do it. Don’t waste concern on Gracey.’

  As he reflected on this, Guy’s expression lightened and he realized that he had before him a whole new area of activity on which to expand his energy. All he had to do now was settle matters at the Commercial College. As Harriet had suspected, when the need came, these matters could be settled easily enough.

  Guy said, ‘I’ve a couple of excellent Greek teachers who can take over the English department. I’ll be back here as soon as they’re installed and my first aim will be to get the Institute on its feet.’

  ‘And,’ said Harriet, ‘you’ll have to tidy yourself up. Here,’ she returned his glasses, neatly mended with tape, and said, ‘Order a new frame for them,’ then she took his hand and said with affectionate pride, ‘I don’t know how you do it, but you always win in the end.’

  Dobson had to leave them but, standing up, he said
, ‘I don’t know how you feel about that pension of yours but I have a room free in Garden City. It was Beaker’s room and he’s left a few sticks in it. If you like to look at it . . .’

  ‘Goodness, yes. How wonderful!’ Overwhelmed by the day’s good fortune, Harriet could not speak above a whisper.

  It was arranged that next evening, when she left work, she was to look at the room.

  Dobson said, ‘Bless you both,’ and made off through the garden, walking with a backward tilt as though his heels were lower than his toes. Looking after the short, plump figure, Guy said, ‘There, I always said Dobson was a really nice fellow.’

  ‘Have I ever said anything else?’

  The Organization men, feeling themselves inferior, had been inclined to jeer at the diplomats who, in times of danger, saw the Organization as another and unnecessary problem.

  Now Guy said, ‘I’m afraid we felt they were another order of being — but, really, they’re not bad when you get to know them.’ He was rapidly taking on confidence and vitality as he considered the responsibilities that lay ahead. The lines on his face had faded and he was alert with a new consciousness of authority. Harriet thought, ‘He may one day be eminent.’ Guy, catching her considering glance, said, ‘We’ll have more money now, so let’s have a Pernod on the strength of it.’

  Dobson told Harriet that the flat belonged to the Embassy. He explained why it was divided into two parts and led her through the baize door into what had been the harem quarters. He usually let these rooms to Embassy staff but if no Embassy person needed accommodation, he was free to let to friends.

  ‘So I had Professor Beaker and now . . .’ he gave Harriet a humorous little bow, ‘I hope to have Guy and Harriet Pringle. What could be nicer! But you’d better look the room over before deciding. It’s not at all grand. The main part is protected because the servants’ rooms are above it, but this wing is immediately under the roof. I’m afraid it gets rather hot.’

  When he opened the door, the heat, as though too big for the room, rolled out and wrapped itself round them like an eiderdown. The servants had not bothered to pull down the blinds so heat came in, not only through the ceiling, but also the window. The woodwork, which had been sun-baked for a century, seemed to crackle with heat and the floor shook as they walked upon it.

  The room was furnished with a divan bed, two chairs and a hanging cupboard. The professor had rented this furniture from a store in the Muski and the Pringles could add to it if they wished.

  ‘I know it’s not much, but it’s rent free. You only have to pay your share of the housekeeping. So — what do you think?’

  Harriet, trying to think of some adequate expression of gratitude, gave a little sigh and Dobson, mistaking her hesitation for uncertainty, said, ‘I’ll leave you to consider and look around.’

  Harriet, left to herself, absorbed the atmosphere of the room that was square and not very large. The window looked out on the leaves of a tree that filled the whole window space. The heat muffled her but, entranced by the thought of living here with Guy among congenial people, she did not mind the heat. She sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the tree then, hearing a telephone ringing, she was struck with fear that someone else was wanting the room and she hurried back to Dobson to lay claim to it.

  Dobson, his call finished, came into the living-room and she said at once, ‘It’s a wonderful room.’

  ‘Oh, hardly that, but if you want it, it’s yours. I’m sorry Edwina’s not here. She’s out with one of her young men, but do sit down. Hassan has squeezed some limes for us. Will you have gin and lime, or just plain lime and water?’

  ‘Lime juice! What luxury!’

  Dobson, thinking she referred to the work of squeezing the limes, said, ‘Oh, it’s not so difficult. We have a little machine thing.’

  Settling down with his gin and lime, he asked if she had heard any amusing gossip lately. Unable to think of any, she put her question about the Qattara Depression.

  Dobson, being able to answer it, looked pleased. ‘The Depression is just an immense salt pan but it’s got the jerries foxed. They know if they tried to cross it, their tanks would sink into it. Tweedie, the military attaché, drove out to take a shufti and he said you can see the German engineers climbing down to it and poking sticks into the surface. Until they find a way across it, it acts as a strategic terminus.’

  ‘But couldn’t they go round it?’

  ‘Too far. Five hundred miles or more. Tweedie thinks they’re overstretched as it is.’

  ‘You think that’s why they’ve come to a stop? You don’t think they’re simply waiting for the Caucasus to collapse? If the German panzers came down through Persia, they’d meet up with Rommel and surround the British forces. 8th Army could be wiped out.’

  ‘Dear me,’ Dobson laughed. ‘You certainly believe in facing up to the worst.’

  ‘If Hitler got the Baku oil and the Middle East oil — what would happen then?’

  Dobson cheerfully considered this possibility — Harriet realized that cheerfulness was a form of diplomatic courtesy — but she could see he was bored by her suppositions. ‘I imagine our troops would have withdrawn to Upper Egypt long before that happened. We’d battle on.’

  ‘For ever? Like the Hundred Years War?’

  ‘It’s possible:’ Dobson spoke as though the war was a tedious subject, better not discussed. Harriet finished her lime juice and said she must go. Taking her to the door, Dobson said in the tone of one making a confession, ‘I may say that, in my cable to Bevington, I mentioned that Guy was the only Organization man in Rumania who stuck it out to the end.’

  ‘Thank you, Dobbie. Guy needs a friend.’

  ‘Needs a friend! But no one has more friends.’

  ‘There are friends and friends. There are those who want something from you and those who will do something for you. Guy has plenty of the first. He’s rather short of the second.’

  ‘Do you mean that?’

  ‘Yes. He collects depressives, neurotics and dotty people who think he’s the answer to their own inadequacy.’

  ‘And is he?’

  ‘No, there is no answer.’

  The next day, when Harriet brought some of her belongings to the flat, she found Edwina in the living-room. The two girls had met at parties but had talked only once, during a dance at Mena House when they happened to be in the cloakroom together. Edwina, putting on lipstick of a violent mulberry colour, caught Harriet’s gaze in the looking-glass and winked at her as though they shared a joke. She said, ‘This colour’s a bit much, isn’t it?’ Harriet did not think so and Edwina said, ‘Some people say I’m fast, but I’m not really. I only want a good time.’

  And why not? Harriet asked herself. Drawn to Edwina’s easy good nature, she would have talked longer but Edwina, besieged by all the excitements awaiting her, threw her lipstick into her bag, saying, ‘Well, back to the fray. Let’s have a chat some time,’ and was gone. The time did not come. Though they were the same age, Harriet and Edwina did not meet on common ground. Edwina was unmarried and reputed to be the most eligible girl in Cairo. Even the plainest English girls were sought after and Edwina, a beauty even if not a classical beauty, had so many invitations to dinners and parties, she could not, with the best will in the world, find time for other girls.

  Now she greeted Harriet like an old friend, saying, ‘Oh, I’m so glad you’ve taken the room. What fun it will be, having you here!’ Pushing the sun-bleached hair away from her eyes, she observed Harriet with such warm and welcoming admiration that Harriet felt the world would change for her. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘what fun!’ and life, that had been dark with war and defeat, for a moment took on the brilliance of Edwina’s good times.

  Edwina said, ‘How sad, I have to go and change but we’ll see such lots of each other now we’re sharing a flat, won’t we?’

  Of course. Of course. Harriet, going to her room, heard Edwina singing under the shower. Putting her things into the hangin
g-cupboard, she noticed a dry, herbal scent in the air, like the scent of pot-pourri. She thought it came from the dried-out wood, then saw that the window had been opened and noises, gentle and monotonous, told her that there was a garden outside. She heard the hiss of water and realized that the water was drawing the scent from dry grass. And there was a thin thread of pipe music repeating the same phrase over and over again.

  She took a chair to the window and standing on it, tried to look through the tree’s dark, glossy, ovoid leaves but they grew too thickly and there was nothing to be seen but the blur of sunlight beneath the lowest branches. The sun was sinking and its rays, piercing in between the leaves, filled the room with a dusty glow. Close to the tree, she saw that its head of leaves was dotted with green fruits that here and there were taking on a flush of orange or pink.

  Looking into the tree, feeling protected by its presence, hearing the delicate pipe phrase endlessly repeated, she felt comforted as though by the prediction of happiness to come.

  When she returned to the living-room, Dobson wandered from his room, naked except for a bath-towel worn round his waist like a sarong. ‘We’re very informal here,’ he said.

  She asked about the garden outside her window and was told it belonged to the owner of one of Cairo’s big stores. ‘A very rich man,’ Dobson said with satisfaction.

  ‘Someone’s playing a pipe out there.’

  ‘That’s the snake charmer, a frequent visitor. He’s a bit of a joke among the safragis who say he can always produce a sackful of snakes because he brings them with him. He charms the same snakes every time.’

  Harriet was pleased to hear that the snakes were not killed but led this enchanted life, perpetually charmed by pipe music.

  At the end of the week, when she left the pension and brought the last of her things to the flat, Dobson asked, ‘And when are we to be joined by the great man himself?’ Edwina entering, as he spoke, wanted to know who the great man was, saying, ‘Why have I not met him?’

  Harriet said, ‘You’ll meet him soon. He is my husband.’ She expected him to turn up for supper that evening and had told him he would see Edwina, but Edwina was dressed for some much more sumptuous occasion than supper at the flat. Waiting for her escort, she asked Harriet to join her on the balcony. The French windows had been opened and the first cool air of evening was drifting into the room. Outside there were some old wickerwork sofas and chairs. Sitting in the mild, jasmin-scented twilight, looking over the palms and sycamores and mango trees that grew in the riverside gardens, Harriet felt that she and Guy had at last found a home in Cairo.