Fortunes of War

by Olivia Manning

  Lister, not understanding her wonder at this news, went on: ‘And where’s Guy? Not on your own, are you?’

  ‘Yes, on my own. I was trying to get from Damascus to Beirut and arrived here. There’s no train till tomorrow.’

  ‘So you’re stranded? Pretty god-forsaken place, if you ask me. Where are you staying?’

  ‘There’s no hotel but I’ve found a room, not very nice.’

  ‘I bet it’s not very nice. If you want to get to Beirut, how about coming back with me? Have a night at my hotel, see your friend Castlebar and take the bus tomorrow. Have a convivial evening in the bar with old Lister. What do you say?’

  A few hours ago this suggestion would have seemed to her her salvation, but now she thought of the brothers and their kindness and said: ‘The people who’ve given me a room — I don’t want to hurt their feelings.’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry. I’ll explain to them.’

  ‘And then, your hotel — I don’t think I could afford it.’

  ‘If you’re short, I can lend you a few quid. Guy will always pay me back. Now, let’s look round. Spooky place, isn’t it? But those columns are pretty impressive. What’s this temple?’ Lister had a guide-book and led her from temple to temple, determined to see everything: ‘Good lord, look at this — just like the inside of a city church. Wonder where the oracle had its abode!’ Limping and groaning from the pain in his foot, Lister kept her among the temples till the air became chilly and the sun began to set. Then in twilight that was beautiful and pleasant now she was not alone, they went out to the waiting taxi and drove towards the station.

  ‘Where’s this pension of yours?’

  ‘It’s not exactly a pension. I’m in this café.’

  The brothers showed only satisfaction that Harriet had found someone to look after her. Lister went upstairs to fetch her suitcase and came down looking blank. George, putting the suitcase into the taxi, said happily: ‘You go Beirut. You like very much.’

  Once out of hearing, Lister said in a shocked tone: ‘My dear girl, you couldn’t have stayed in a place like that. What do you think would have happened to you there?’

  ‘What would be likely to happen?’

  ‘God knows. You’re too trusting.’ Lister gasped and began to titter: ‘A girl alone with three randy A-rabs! No wonder they said “Come into my parlour . . .’”

  ‘Really, Lister! I’m sure they only wanted to help me.’

  ‘Perhaps, perhaps,’ Lister dropped the subject and said: ‘I wish we could have found the oracle. It was much brighter than that affair at Delphi. Much more — well, what’s the word? Snide. The Emperor Trajan tried to trick it by handing it a blank sheet of paper and in return, he got another blank sheet of paper. Then he asked about his expedition to conquer Parthia and the oracle handed him a bundle of sticks wrapped in a piece of cloth.’

  ‘What did that mean?’

  ‘What indeed! Probably nothing, but he died on the way and his bones were sent to Rome wrapped in a piece of cloth.’

  ‘Did oracles ever give anyone good news?’

  ‘I doubt it. They were always hinting at something nasty.’

  The road carried them in deepening twilight over the bare rocky pass between the Anti-Lebanon and the Lebanon. The journey was not long and there was still a glint on the western horizon as they dropped down among gardens and orchards, and Lister pointed: ‘There! That’s the hotel, The Cedars.’

  Seeing the hotel, its windows radiant, set on a hill spur above Beirut, Harriet said: ‘It’s much too grand for me.’

  ‘Nonsense. Guy’s not badly off. We can’t have you staying in places like that café.’ As the taxi stopped, Lister struggled out, saying: ‘I’ll see you’re properly fixed up. Room and bath, eh?’

  He was gone before Harriet could reply and she stood in the garden, among a scent of orange blossom, and wondered how she would manage to pay.

  She entered the vestibule as Angela Hooper was coming down the stairs. Angela glanced at Harriet, glanced away then jerked her head back and gave a scream: ‘Harriet Pringle! But you went on that evacuation ship.’

  ‘No, I didn’t go. I came to Syria instead.’

  ‘Good heavens, what a shock you gave me! And you’re staying here?’

  ‘Only for one night . . .’

  ‘No, you must stay longer than that. I want to hear what’s been happening in Cairo and a lot of other things.’

  ‘I’ll have to find a cheaper place. The truth is, I’m almost out of cash.’

  ‘Oh, cash. You’re always worrying about cash . . .’

  Angela stopped abruptly as Lister, coming from the desk, joined them. Stiffening slightly, she looked suspiciously at him then said to Harriet: ‘I thought you were alone.’

  Angela did not move but Harriet felt that in her mind she took a step away and a distance of disapproval had come between them. Harriet said: ‘I was alone but I met Major Lister in Baalbek and he was kind enough to give me a lift in his taxi. And now I’m here.’

  ‘So you are!’ Angela smiled but there was still uncertainty in her manner: ‘And where’s Guy?’

  ‘In Cairo.’

  ‘Too busy to come with you, I suppose.’ Angela gave Lister another look and realizing that her suspicions were absurd, laughed: ‘Well, it’s lovely to have you here. Let’s all have a drink after supper. See you in the Winter Garden.’

  When she had left them, Lister said: ‘I don’t think your friend liked me.’

  ‘It was just that she thought at first I’d gone off with you.’

  Lister shook with wheezy laughter: ‘Would it were true! Dear me, dear me! Would it were true!’

  Harriet laughed too: ‘She went off with Castlebar. It’s funny how often people disapprove of others doing what they have done themselves.’

  Angela and Castlebar were seated at a small table in an alcove of the dining-room that Angela, with her habit of lavish tipping, had probably kept reserved for them. Glancing across at their enclosed intimacy, Harriet could not suppose that Angela would want her to be with them for very long. She had found friends but that did not solve anything. She might borrow from Angela, she might even borrow from Lister, but borrowing merely put off the day when she must face up to her situation. She glanced again towards the lovers and caught Castlebar’s eye. As though he understood her dilemma, he smiled and raised his hand reassuringly. She had never understood his attraction for Angela but now, warmed by his greeting, she felt him to be an old friend in a strange, unhelpful world.

  ‘What are we going to drink?’ Lister offered her the wine list.

  ‘Not for me.’

  ‘Oh, come on,’ Lister rallied her: ‘must have a glass,’ and added as though admitting to a curious virtue, ‘I always have wine with my meals.’ He ordered a bottle of Cyprus red and watching the cork being drawn, he flushed with impatience and pushed his glass forward.

  Harriet remembered his eagerness for food and drink. Based in Jerusalem, he would come to Cairo whenever he could to treat himself to what he called ‘the fleshpots’. He sometimes took Harriet out for a meal, feeling that a companion gave him licence to indulge himself.

  His glass filled, he lifted it quickly and drank, holding the wine in his mouth and sluicing it round and round his teeth, then as he swallowed it, giving a long drawn ‘Ah-h-h.’ Before the meal was over, Lister had drunk the whole bottle.

  As Angela and Castlebar left the room, Angela called across: ‘See you in the Winter Garden.’

  ‘You think they want me?’ Lister asked with tremulous lips and bulging wet blue eyes.

  ‘Of course. You saw she meant both of us.’

  The Winter Garden, that stretched out from the main building, was a large, glass gazebo that gave a view of the lights of Beirut and the dark glimmer of the distant sea. Lister followed Harriet with timorous expectancy as though fearing Angela would order him away.

  Angela and Castlebar were seated in a corner behind a screen of blue plumbago flowers.
Again Harriet felt they had made this seclusion their own, but Castlebar rose eagerly to welcome her and went to find extra chairs. During his absence from Cairo, it seemed he had taken on the function of host while Angela, who paid the bills, kept in the background. Their nightly bottle of whisky was on the table. Angela pushed it towards Lister who, after conventional demur, filled his glass and lifting it towards her, said: ‘Here’s seeing you, mem.’

  Angela watched him with critical attention as he put down the whisky and refilled his glass. She did not look at Harriet but Castlebar, devoting himself to an old friend, insisted that evening she must have something more festive than her usual glass of white wine: ‘How about a Pimm’s? They do it very nicely here.’

  When the Pimm’s arrived, expertly dressed with fruit and borage, he handed it to her with a conniving smile and she felt he would not be at all displeased if she remained to share Angela’s liberality. She was sure they had discussed the oddity of her presence here when she was supposed to be on the Queen of Sparta. And why was she short of money when she could send to her husband for help? She realized that if she stayed there, she would have a lot of explaining to do.

  Angela, leaning her delicate, pretty head back among the flowers, gave Harriet a quizzical smile then, perhaps remembering their past friendship, suddenly leant forward and squeezed Harriet’s hand: ‘Dear Harriet, I thought I would never see you again.’

  Angela had not changed in appearance since she left Cairo but Castlebar was not quite the Castlebar of the Anglo-Egyptian Union. He not only had more confidence and more to say for himself but he had lost the seedy look of the alcoholic for whom any money not spent on drink was money wasted. He was wearing an expensively tailored suit and silk shirt. Rich living had enhanced his looks but he still chain-smoked, placing the pack open in front of him with a cigarette pulled out ready to succeed the one he held in his hand. He still hung over the table, his thick, pale eyelids covering his eyes, his full, mauvish under-lip hanging slightly with one yellow eye-tooth tending to slip into view. Not really very different from the Castlebar of the Anglo-Egyptian Union.

  Harriet asked where they had been since leaving Cairo.

  ‘W-w-we went to Cyprus,’ Castlebar said. ‘S-s-stayed in Kyrenia.’

  ‘At the Dome?’ asked Lister: ‘Great hotel the Dome. Got more public rooms, and bigger public rooms, than anywhere else in the Eastern Med. And the teas,’ Lister’s eyes watered at the thought of them, ‘real old English teas — scones, jam, cream, plum-cake! Oh, my goodness!’

  ‘Yes, we stayed at the Dome. But Cyprus is a small place and we got b-b-bored. We took the boat back to Haifa and Angie bought a second-hand car and drove us up here.’

  Angela said: ‘We thought we’d stay here a bit.’ She smiled at Harriet: ‘It’s quite a nice hotel, isn’t it?’ and Harriet wondered what she would have thought of the Baalbek café.

  Offered the bottle again, Lister said: ‘Can’t drink all your booze,’ but, pressed, took a larger glass than before and, sipping, sighed: ‘Back to the grindstone tomorrow. Only had four days’ leave but managed to see a few things. Ever been to the Dog River?’

  Angela, beginning to relent towards him, asked: ‘What is the Dog River?’

  ‘Oh, quite fantastic. There’s this great headland where all the conquerors since Nebuchadnezzar have carved inscriptions. I wanted to see the earliest, the Babylonian one, but it’s all overgrown with bramble. Silly people these Lebanese, no sense of history. I’d’ve climbed up and cleared it but couldn’t get across the river. I’ve been told that at the river mouth there’s a dog — not a real dog, of course — that used to howl so loudly at the sight of an enemy, it could be heard in Cyprus.’

  Castlebar lifted his eyelids with interest: ‘W-w-what was it? Some sort of siren?’

  ‘Don’t know. Drove down and looked for it but couldn’t see hide or hair.’ In an absent-minded way, Lister refilled his glass again and fell silent. He was beginning to droop and had to cling to his stick to keep himself from falling. He sighed and lifted the bottle but finding it empty, he put it down and his infantile nose and fat cheeks fell together with disappointment: ‘Walked a long way . . .foot very bad . . .no dog anywhere. Never been able to find anything, really. Always deprived, always ill-treated. My nurse — what d’you think she used to do? She used to pull down m’knickers and beat m’bum with a hairbrush. Bristle side. Used to pull down little knickers and beat little bum. Poor little bum! What a thing to do to a child!’ He drew in a long breath and let it out painfully: ‘Never got over it. Never. Never shall.’

  He sniffed and as he gave a sob, Angela sat up briskly and looking from Castlebar to Harriet, said: ‘Time for bed.’

  Making their excuses and goodnights, the three left Lister to brood on his wrongs and went out to the hall, where Angela asked: ‘How did you come to pick that one up? Or, rather, how did Guy pick him up? I take it, it was Guy.’

  ‘Of course. And how does Guy come to pick anyone up?’

  ‘Well, Major Lister’s going tomorrow, thank goodness, but Harriet you must stay on. I can’t let you go so soon. We haven’t had a chance to talk yet.’

  ‘Angela dear, I’ve less than five pounds in the world.’

  Angela went upstairs. Putting a hand out to stop the argument, she said: ‘I’ll settle your bill and you pay me back in Cairo,’ then passed from view.

  Harriet turned to Castlebar: ‘You know, Bill, I can’t afford to stay here.’

  Castlebar grinned: ‘Leave it to Angie. You’re silly to worry, she loves to do the honours.’ He followed Angela upstairs.

  He did not worry himself. His attitude towards Angela’s money had been determined early on when his friend Jake Jackman told him: ‘If Angela takes us to places we can’t afford, there’s nothing for it. We’ll have to let her pay.’

  For Harriet, too, there was nothing for it. She had to borrow or starve. She could only hope that one day she would be able to repay what she owed.

  When she went down to breakfast next morning, she found that Lister had already gone. There was no sign of Angela and Castlebar so, having eaten alone, she walked round the hotel garden that was lush with semi-tropical plants and early orange trees. The end, unfenced, fell for several hundred feet sheer to the road into Beirut. She saw Beirut itself stretched beneath her, a sharply-drawn maze of streets set with pink and cream buildings, delicately coloured in the early sunlight. The streets, flashing with traffic, converged towards the water-front where ships were gathered on the glittering Mediterranean. On the southern side of the town, beside the road, there was a wood of dark trees, each a stiff arrangement of branches with wings of closely packed foliage, standing like crows in affected attitudes. These, she realized, were the Cedars for which the hotel was named. And the hotel, of course, was one of the most famous in the Middle East — and here she was, living in idleness with no means of keeping herself. How long could it go on? Angela had said ‘pay me back in Cairo’ and now that their relationship had established itself, she and Castlebar would, sooner or later, return to Egypt. Then what would become of Harriet? The future was too ominous to contemplate and, turning her back on it, she went out to the road and walked between the orchards.

  Angela and Castlebar were down for luncheon. Angela had asked for a larger table and, leaving their alcove, they seemed content to have Harriet with them. If they had suffered headaches or hangover, they had had time to recover and Angela began to consider the afternoon.

  ‘Supposing we go and find this Dog River! What do you think, Harriet?’

  Harriet said she was ready for anything. After luncheon, Angela said:

  ‘Let’s have our coffee in the Winter Garden. You, Bill darling, you want to work on a poem, don’t you?’

  Castlebar said, ‘Yes’, and went upstairs, as no doubt prearranged, and Angela took Harriet to the secluded spot behind the plumbago plants.

  ‘Now, Harriet, when you say you’re near penury, you’re playing a little game wi
th yourself, aren’t you? I’m sure if you write to your husband, he’ll send you what you need?’

  ‘I can’t write to him, that’s the trouble. I can’t ask him for anything.’

  ‘Well, you can rely on me. I’ll do all I can to help — but I must know the truth. What are you doing here? You’re obviously not on holiday. Have you left Guy?’

  ‘I think you could ask, rather, has he left me. Things happened that made me feel I’d be better elsewhere. I decided to go to England but, instead, I came here.’

  ‘What happened? What sort of things?’

  ‘Small things that seemed important at the time. You remember that brooch you gave me: the rose-diamond heart? Guy took it from me and gave it to Edwina.’

  ‘To Edwina?’ Angela gave a shocked laugh but added: ‘If he did, surely it didn’t mean anything?’

  ‘It meant something to me.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Oh, Harriet, I’m truly sorry. I wish I’d never bought the wretched thing.’

  ‘I loved it. But if it hadn’t been that, it would have been something else. I was ill and depressed. Guy’s devotion to the outside world was more than I could stand. I felt I was tied up to him yet I was always alone. I sometimes think I would have done better to go on the evacuation ship. In England I could have earned a living. I would have had a life of my own.’

  ‘But how did you get here from Suez? Not by train, I’m sure.’

  ‘I was given a lift in a lorry. I came on an impulse, without stopping to ask myself how I was going to live when I got here. I had fifty pounds with me but it didn’t last long. I’m in a silly predicament which I’ve brought on myself and I don’t know what to do next.’

  ‘Well, I won’t abandon you, now that I’ve found you. As for money, you needn’t worry about that. We’re moving around and if you’d like to come with us, then come with us.’

  ‘I’d like nothing better but I’d feel like an intruder. You and Bill are soon going to get tired of having me trailing after you.’

  ‘No, you wouldn’t be an intruder. We see quite enough of each other, and when we surface, we’re glad to have someone else to talk to.’