‘But why can’t he come clean?’ interrupted a bemused John. ‘Admit it and get us to help him out?’
‘You’ve got a lot to learn! Admit to County Hall that he’s a fraud who can’t handle inner-city thugs after all? Admit that they’ve run rings round him? No way! He needs a scapegoat, and that happens to be you. Under his charismatic leadership Kev and co. couldn’t possibly have been buying dope. It could only have been provided by you.’
‘But that’s rubbish! He must know that!’
‘He does, but to admit it to himself would destroy his whole conceptual universe.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Dobbie’s a Marxist. Know what that is? Yes? Good! But he’s a very simplistic Marxist. Kev and co. are the proletariat and that means that they are good and clever. You are the bourgeoisie, which means that you are bad, stupid and a stuck-up little snob. But the trouble is that you aren’t stupid, you’re good, and you’re not a stuck-up little snob either. You don’t fit. You’re not what you should be. Nor is Michael.’ Here he pointed to the gently snoring heap under a sheet. ‘Michael’s pedigree is better even than his: alcoholic, drug-dependent single parent on social security. Can’t hope to beat that. But he’s at a private school, which means that he’s a rich bourgeois! Doesn’t fit!
‘Poor man! He’s like a scientist whose pet theory has been disproved by simple facts. Should be banned. Like you. Can’t admit that Kev’s a crook. Proles aren’t crooks. Only bourgeois exploiters are. You should pity him. He’s in a right fix!’
‘But why doesn’t he clout Kev? Give him a bit of fist and bring him into line?’
‘I’d like to see him try. Kev beat you up, didn’t he?’
‘Not really. I did put up a fight…’ All defensive here! Like Dobbie, there’s some things you can’t admit, even to yourself!
‘Oh come on! Look at yourself in a mirror. You’ve got a lovely black eye coming up. All I can say is that you’re lucky that’s all he did to you.’
‘How do you know all this?’
‘I’ve told you. I’ve got second sight.’
Silence for a while.
Eventually John spoke up. ‘I can’t sleep. I must have a shower. I’m all yukky.’
‘Wash yourself in the fountain down here. Don’t go upstairs, not for a while anyway.’
‘Why so?’
‘There’s things going on.’
‘What things?’
‘You’ll find out soon enough.’
‘Things Going On’
He crept out into the darkness of the courtyard and duly splashed his battered face with the deliciously cool water. Murmuring and Geordie voices floated down from the balcony above along with the familiar pungent smell.
As he slipped quietly back into the room, Steadman raised his head from his pillow. ‘Be sure you write all this down in that diary of yours – chapter and verse, if you don’t mind.’
‘Even the business of Kev and Dobson thumping me? I mean, it’s so embarrassing.’
‘Especially that. It could come in very useful. And I hope you’re taking lots of photographs. They, too, could come in very useful. Now, try to get some sleep. There’s going to be quite a day tomorrow.’
‘Oh?’
‘Just wait and see.’
As John lay down he heard more Geordie voices and the sound of feet scurrying over the courtyard. ‘Things’ were obviously going on.
Crisis
Another hot morning came with waves of mounting heat flooding in through the open door. John woke up brimming with excited anticipation.
Steadman took over. ‘Sort your rucksacks out, lads. Anything you don’t actually need leave on the bed here and I’ll give it to Madame for safe keeping.’
Breakfast in the courtyard followed.
‘When we’ve finished we’ll go to the bus station and look for a bus to Imlil,’ said Steadman.
But hardly had they finished their coffee before loud Geordie voices began to boom out from the balcony above them.
‘Any of you bastards seen me fuckin’ boots?’
‘Who’s got me bloody cagoule?’
‘Yer haven’t seen me sweater, ’ave yers?’
A seething and aggressive Jim came stumbling down the stairs. ‘Have any of you lot got me boots?’
Blank stares. ‘No.’
‘Sure? Mind if I have a look?’
‘Feel free,’ said Steadman. ‘Search our room if you like. We’ll help you.’
The room was duly ransacked. Rucksacks were opened, the neat pile of excess baggage on the bed demolished, bedclothes removed, dark corners scoured. Nothing was found.
‘Well some bastard’s nicked them!’ snarled Jim. ‘And how the fuck am I meant ter climb a bloody mountain without me boots?’
He stomped angrily back upstairs.
More voices. ‘Anybody seen Kev and Jakie? Worraboot Sandra an’ them lot?
‘Room’s empty!’
‘Looks like they’ve scarpered!’
‘And taken half our kit with them, the bastards!’
‘Berra fetch Brian.’
‘Looks like he’s scarpered an’ all.’
Steadman winked at John. ‘Just as I said: things have been going on in the night.’
‘Come on, Bob!’ exclaimed a frenetic John. ‘Let’s get going. I want to climb Toubkal. Let’s not get tangled up in their mess.’
He shouldered his pack and marched purposely towards the door.
But just then a flustered Morris burst into the courtyard. ‘Bob, we’ve got a crisis on our hands!’
‘I’m afraid that’s your problem, and not mine,’ replied Steadman.
‘What do you mean? You’re part of the expedition, aren’t you?’
‘Not any more, Joe. Brian said so last night.’
‘Oh come on Bob!’ cried John. ‘Let’s get going!’
‘Going?’ asked Morris, ‘Going where?’
‘We’re going to climb Mount Toubkal,’ declared John defiantly. ‘Without you lot or bloody Dobson! So there!’
Morris turned to Steadman with desperation in his voice. ‘But you can’t just walk off like this! Please Bob, we need you!’
John looked on with mounting frustration. He could almost see the thoughts flickering through Steadman’s brain, like the flashing images of a video being fast-forwarded. Christian duty. Forgiveness (or was it merely weakness?). Let them see the error of their ways by leaving them to stew in their own juice. That would be justice all right! But not all of Brian’s lot were bad; there were good people there, too, like Jim and Tracy. They’d been badly let down. They deserved justice. And if he simply abandoned them, think of the repercussions when they got back to Britain! Vicars were in exposed positions: they had to set an example. Only one answer.
‘Don’t worry, Joe. I won’t let you down.’
John stamped his foot in an incipient tantrum. ‘Oh don’t just give in! What about us?’
‘Cool down, John,’ replied Steadman. ‘Don’t worry. You’ll get up Toubkal all right, but we can’t just leave these people in the lurch!’
John wasn’t convinced. He felt his dream dissolving and relapsed into a villainous sulk.
Steadman went into avuncular mode and turned to Morris. ‘All right, Joe, what’s all this about?’
Kevin Bartlett and his crowd have disappeared.’
‘Well?’
‘But this is serious. They seem to have taken half the expedition kit with them.’
‘Any idea where they might have gone?’
‘Jim says they’ll have gone off to Agadir with those hippies that were here.’
‘That figures. They’ll have taken the expedition kit to sell in the souk and buy drugs with the proceeds.’
‘You don’t seem surp
rised.’
‘I can’t say that I am.’
A pregnant silence.
‘But Bob,’ spluttered Morris eventually, ‘What the hell are we going to do?’
‘Better fetch Brian and have a conference.’
‘But he’s gone down to the police station.’
‘In that case, we’ll have to wait till he returns. In the meantime we’d better muster the remaining troops before anything else happens.’
‘Oh shit!’ groaned John. ‘What about our trip to Toubkal? I mean, you promised…’
‘Be patient, young man, be patient!’
Steadman Takes Charge
One by one, four sullen and dishevelled youngsters trickled down the stairs and sat down under the tree in the middle of the courtyard. A calm Michael and a seething John joined them.
Steadman went into crisis management mode: the infantry officer on active service, his alter ego, and so much more fulfilling than his dreary parish duties back in Boldonbridge! He seemed to visibly enlarge.
‘Jim? Tracy? Rob? Maureen? Is this all that’s left of you? So the others have all gone with Kev and co.?’
‘Yes, it seems that they have,’ sighed Morris.
Full of confidence, Steadman forged ahead: ‘Now listen to me, all of you! We’ve got a big problem on our hands. First point: we’re all in this together, so I don’t want any more of this nonsense about these two lads, Michael and John, not being part of this expedition. If you think that just because they are at a private school they are upper-class snobs, let me tell you that this one’ – pointing to Michael – ‘has been sent there because he is a ward of court and that one’ – pointing to a squirming John – ‘is there because he has been abandoned by his parents. They’re just as deprived as any of you lot. So no more of this upper-class snob stuff. Got it?’
‘It weren’t us what didn’t want them, like,’ said Tracy. ‘It were Kev an’ them lot! Aye, an’ Brian an’ all!’
‘Good. Well you know the position.’
Murmurs of assent.
‘Next point. To put you in the picture. Your mates have absconded. Frankly, I’ve been expecting this to happen. I may be a silly old vicar, but I wasn’t born yesterday. I’ve seen what’s been going on. They’ve made a bee line for the local hippies – of which there are many round here – and they’ve been shooting dope with them. Now, apparently, they have bunked off with them. They’ll probably be heading for Agadir – that’s a seaside resort where the druggies hang out, in case you didn’t know it already – and they seem to have taken most of your kit with them. That’ll be to sell in the souk to pay for their pleasures- which can get pretty pricey, I can tell you!’
‘But just in case any of you have similar ideas, let me tell you that many of the hippies round here are police plants. They’ll sell you the stuff and then get a big reward for shopping you. It’s a nice little earner if you know the ropes. And I happen to know that there’s at least one plant among the lot that were here.’
‘So when Kev and his merry men are caught – and they soon will be! – they’ll be right in it, right up to their necks and beyond. Penalties for possessing narcotics are savage here. They’ll land in prison and, believe me, the screws round here aren’t exactly lily-white softies either. Don’t think that just because they’re British they can’t be touched. They regard all foreign tourists as rich and pampered; yes, even people like you! And they’ll just love to put the boot in!’
Stunned silence.
Steadman continued, ‘So, if any of you have been in any way involved in the drug dealing, now’s the time to make a clean breast of it. Before any of you, also, land in trouble. I am waiting.’
Silence. Then agitated whispers. Finally Rob, a big thickset youth with a downy chin and mousy hair, spoke up. ‘I knew it were gannin’ on me, like,’ he said.
‘But why didn’t you tell somebody?’
‘How could I? I mean Kev woulda done us ower like. I mean, jus’ look at John here.’
All eyes turned on John and his luridly polychromatic black eye.
‘Yer was lucky ter gerroff that lightly, Jonny lad,’ observed Jim. ‘Knowin’ what Kev can do like.’
John blushed bright red at the public revelation of his reprehensible weakness.
‘We couldn’t of said nowt to Brian, neither,’ declared Tracy defensively. ‘I mean, he just wouldn’t listen him.’
‘All right,’ said Steadman. ‘Point taken, but we’re going to have to wait here till this business is sorted out.’
‘But what about our expedition?’ exclaimed Jim. ‘I mean, that’s what we came for, weren’t it?’
‘Oh, that still goes on. Don’t worry. In the meantime I suggest that you get your kit together and see how much you still have. But wait a minute, here comes the Great Man himself.’
All eyes turned on Dobson as he entered the courtyard. He looked somehow shrunken, not thunderous, nor even baleful. Just diminished, emptied. Despite himself John felt his hatred start to trickle away. The voice of Gentle Jesus, Meek and Mild, or simply congenital weakness?
‘Well Brian!’ boomed Steadman. ‘What’s the sitrep?’
‘Sitrep?’ Michael whispered into John’s ear. ‘That’s an army word, ain’t it? He just loves playin’ soldiers, don’t he? Mebbe that’s why you an’ him gets on so well. Yer both liddell kids like.’
‘They’re all down in the police station,’ replied Dobson in a soft and slurred voice.
‘Cor,’ hissed Michael, ‘He’s right pissed, him.’
‘Anything else?’ asked Steadman.
‘That’s all I know, Bob. You’ll have to come down and talk the lingo. I don’t know the half of what’s going on.’
‘Right we are. I’ll come down now!’ Steadman seemed to glow, to radiate even. He was obviously wallowing in his rival’s humiliation and relishing another chance to parade his linguistic and anthropological skills.
‘Listen, chaps,’ he added jauntily, ‘I’ll have to go down to the police station with Brian. I’ve no idea how long I’m going to be so you’ll just have to be patient. Joe, can you see that nobody leaves the place? And, maybe, you can get Madame to rustle up a bit more breakfast for everybody?’
As he prepared to leave with Dobson, John rushed up to him. ‘Please, Bob.’
Irritated glance. ‘John, this is urgent. Can’t it wait?’
‘But I’ve no money. Kev nicked it all, and all my traveller’s cheques too.’
Steadman produced his wallet. ‘All right, here’s eighty quid. Change it at the bank later on. But please don’t wander off, now!’
‘But what about Toubkal?’
‘That’s going to happen, do try to be patient!’
Not easy for a hyped-up John Denby.
Frenetic Boredom, and Alliances
A long, boring wait followed. After a while Jim approached John and Michael. ‘Looks like we’d berra be proper mates now.’
They duly shook hands. One issue had been solved. A desultory game of cards followed with Rob and the two girls.
‘I knew this would fuckin’ happen!’ sighed Tracy. ‘But you just couldn’t tell Brian bloody anything!’
‘Now we’re all in the shit!’ added Jim from the sidelines. ‘I came here to climb mountains, not to be a bloody prisoner in this place!’
The sun got higher. The temperature rose as waves of soporific heat reverberated off the tiled floor of the courtyard. The game of cards died and they retreated to the shade of their bedrooms.
Seeing Steadman’s Guide to Morocco and his map of the Toubkal area lying on the bed beside his rucksack, John picked them up. There it all was: bus from Marrakesh to a place called Imlil high in mountains; trail from Imlil to a mountain hut called the Neltner Hut; trail from the Neltner Hut to the summit of Jebel Toubkal. All so straightforward. But beyond h
is grasp!
To calm himself he tried to read one of his books, but was too worked up to focus on the page. For dreary hour after dreary hour he just lay there, fuming.
Hopes Dashed
Round about two o’clock Steadman and Dobson returned. Deliverance at last! John’s spirits soared. Shouldering his pack, he rushed out to meet them.
‘Bob! Let’s get started now!’
‘Wait a moment!’ snapped Steadman testily. ‘There’s one or two things that need to be sorted out before we can think of climbing mountains.’
The lad’s self-absorbed tunnel vision was beginning to grate on him. He was not quite the paragon of selfless virtue that he’d allowed himself to think he was.
‘Brian,’ he added, ‘ can you gather everybody together?’
They duly assembled under the limited shade of the palm tree. Steadman opened the proceedings. ‘Well, chaps, here’s the sitrep. It’s not good news, I’m afraid.’
Expectant silence. Dobson looked even emptier than before.
Steadman continued, ‘Just as I predicted, Kev and his crew were getting drugs off those hippies.’
‘What about all our kit?’
‘What about me boots?’
‘All gone, I’m afraid. They sold it all to some crook in the souk, who paid good money for it. Things like boots and rucksacks are very valuable here, you know. With the proceeds they splashed out on drugs, and not just hash, either, but the hard stuff as well. But what they didn’t realise was that one of their hippie friends was a police plant, just like I said! Well, he shopped them and got a big reward for it. So, if any of you have similar ideas, be warned! The police picked them up at the bus station as they were waiting for the bus to Agadir. The upshot is that they are now in the nick.’
‘Will they be sent home?’
‘Probably not. They’ll be charged under Moroccan law.’
Far, Far the Mountain Peak Page 20
