Fuel for the Flame

by Alec Waugh

  It was the first time that she had spoken of this. Even with Lila on this one issue she had kept herself apart. But with Gerald … she was in the same boat as he. There was nothing she could not say to him.

  ‘After the smash,’ she said, ‘I was unconscious for half a day. They didn’t tell me at first about my stepfather being killed. Was that how it was with you? Did they tell you about your foot at once?’

  ‘It was different with me. They told me I’d have to have an operation to my foot. I asked them how it was when I came round. “Oh, you’re all right,” they said. I didn’t know they had amputated. I could still feel my foot, my toes. You’ve heard of that.’

  ‘Of course. How soon were you told? A week, ten days? They didn’t tell me for a fortnight. I couldn’t believe it when they did. Were you like that?’

  ‘Yes, in a way. “Leave me alone,” I said. I had to think. The whole of my life was changed. Soldiering and cricket had been my life. I’d probably have to give up the army. I’d have to find another career. I didn’t think that would be difficult. Most people who cared about cricket knew about me. Someone would find a niche for me. Cricket— well, that was that. Golf? I couldn’t tell. I might be able to shoot in the mid-eighties, that meant I’d have some fun with it. I’d have to be careful about getting fat, now that I’d stopped violent exercise. I enjoy good food. I’d have to diet. A rowing machine, perhaps. Dancing, you mentioned that. That’s how one meets girls, it’s a kind of courtship. Girls like a man to dance well. She tests him that way. If he dances well with her, he’ll probably be right with her in other ways. That would be shut out for me. There were all those things; then there was one other. The most important. It may sound silly but, well, here it is. I’m ambitious; I always meant that I’d amount to something; I thought I’d make myself a name through cricket. I didn’t only think I’d play for England, I thought I’d captain England. That’s fame, you know. Everyone would know what I looked like, people would stare when I went into restaurants and theatres. When I’d given up the game, I’d still be a part of it, on committees. I loved cricket, the actual playing of it. Heavens, but I felt badly when spring didn’t mean getting my bag unpacked. But I valued even more the things that I was going to get through cricket, the position I was going to fill in the world through cricket. That’s over now. I’m not going to be that kind of person. I spent two days alone, thinking, trying to take account of the person I was going to be from now on.’

  He paused, she waited for him to continue. He did not. To prevent the pause continuing she said, ‘Do you sometimes, now when you are adjusted, wake up having forgotten it? Do you dream of yourself as you were before the accident, walking about as though nothing were wrong with you?’

  He nodded. ‘As a matter of fact I asked a psychiatrist about that. He said it can take as much as a year for a fact to sink into your subconscious.’

  ‘We’re almost upon common ground,’ she said. ‘But there’s one thing you haven’t got and you can thank your stars you haven’t. You’ve no sense of guilt, as I have, feeling that I’ve not only taken a life but ruined a life—my mother’s. How can I make amends? I keep asking myself that, and there’s no answer.’

  ‘You shouldn’t feel that.’

  ‘How can I help it? I was driving the car.’

  ‘It’s not your fault if the other driver’s drunk.’

  ‘But if my reactions had been quicker …’

  ‘How could they have been? He came out of that turning at forty miles an hour. Reading the report of it …’

  ‘You read that? Was it reported in the papers here?’

  ‘We have back files of The Times. I looked it up.’

  ‘Is it part of your duty as an A.D.C. to keep a check on visitors so that you’ll know if they can be invited to the Residence?’

  Her tone was light, but she was nettled. He shook his head. ‘I read it after I met you.’

  ‘After … why?’

  ‘I was interested. I thought you were very nice. It was a terrible thing to have happened to somebody like you. I wanted to know exactly what had happened, so that maybe one day, if we found ourselves talking, I might have a chance of saying something that might help you.’

  She was astounded. That he should have thought that about her. Was it for Barbara’s sake? She supposed it was. He might not be able to do anything for Barbara but he could help her by helping her stepdaughter. Even so it touched her.

  ‘You’ve helped more than you can guess,’ she said. ‘You’ve made it possible for me to talk about it. I never have before.’

  ‘Nor’ve I about my problems. We share a secret, don’t we?’

  More of a secret than you can guess, she thought. I know about you and Barbara, and you don’t know I know. One day I’ll tell you that I know. It’ll help you to talk about it, as you’ve helped me by making it possible for me to talk. You’re very dear. It’s cruel luck. First your foot, and then being in love with somebody who’s married. Her heart grew warm, with a protective sisterly emotion. Everything had turned so wrong for him, everything … she paused in her reverie, flabbergasted by the thought that had occurred to her. The need to make amends. Was this her chance?

  She stood up. ‘I’m a guest of the house. I mustn’t desert the party. I’ll never forget this talk.’

  She looked for her father in the buffet-room. He was seated alone. What appeared to be a whisky and soda was at his side, three-quarters full. His hands were in his lap. She wondered if he was dozing. Poor Daddy. He was nearly fifty, and he worked so hard. These late nights were all right for Barbara but they were more than he could take, in any number. She sat beside him, he did not notice her. Yes, he had been dozing. He started when she spoke.

  ‘I’m sorry, I …’

  ‘Yes, darling, I know. Shall we dance, to wake you up? We haven’t danced yet, you know.’

  He danced well, without any intricacy of step, but smoothly in time with the beat.

  ‘I wish we could have something that you could Charleston to. How I’d like to have seen you and Mummy kicking out sideways from your knees.’

  ‘Your mother and I, my dear child, were almost in the nursery when the Charleston was at its height.’

  ‘Oh, what did you dance then?’

  ‘The foxtrots, tangoes, blues, that survived the Charleston.’

  ‘You must have had a good time then. It was a good time to be young, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Any time is a good time to be young.’

  ‘But you were happy together, weren’t you, you and Mummy?’

  ‘Yes, very happy.’

  ‘You never quarrelled, did you?’

  ‘Occasionally, of course. If two people are electric about each other, they quarrel sometimes.’

  ‘But if Mummy hadn’t had to go home because of me …’

  ‘If she had stayed on in Abadan, I’m quite sure we should be together still.’

  My fault again, she thought. Because of me this happened.

  The band struck up ‘God Save the Queen’. Everyone stood to attention. The party dispersed quickly. Shelagh followed the guests into the hall. She stood beside Barbara and her father. There was talk of going on to one of the town’s night clubs. ‘Come along, Barbara, do,’ somebody was asking.

  Barbara looked up inquiringly at Charles. ‘It’s how you feel,’ he said. But the lack of enthusiasm in his voice was her answer.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘No, it really is too late. We have to be up early tomorrow morning.’

  But she would have liked to go, Shelagh thought. It must be depressing for her to have a husband all that older than herself, who wanted never to stay up late. It would be happier for everyone were the cards redealt.

  6

  Lila lay with her hands clasped behind her head, talking to Shelagh, but talking to herself.

  ‘It’s ridiculous. It’s so obvious that you can’t believe it’s true. Being attracted by what one thinks one hates. Why have I been runnin
g down the coloured people all this time? A form of defence: because I knew that what I wanted really was a foreign lover. Why had none of these young men attracted me? Because what I wanted was something primitive and different. Heaven knows how many young men haven’t flirted with me. But I’ve never been really kissed before tonight.’

  There was a keen light in hei eyes; her voice had dropped a tone, had taken on that rich contralto quality. Her cheeks were flushed; she looked infinitely attractive in a fierce pagan way, as she lay back, her dressing-jacket open, her breasts erect and firm. Any man would catch his breath at the sight of her. The long slim body, with its curving hips, would challenge his masculinity. Yet she did not look like a prey; she was more like a panther prepared to leap upon her prey; with one knee drawn high and the sole of her foot upon the sheet, she seemed poised to spring. She was shaken, clearly, in every vein, in every nerve cell; yet there was no tenderness in her voice.

  Is this then love? thought Shelagh. She herself had so often dreamed of love, wondering what it would be like: picturing herself in its soft aftermath, returned after the dance or picnic where she had learnt that she was loved, wanting to be alone, to brood over her happiness, in a mood of tenderness towards her lover, loving the whole world because of him, feeling herself a sleeping princess who had been kissed awake, grateful and adoring, longing to dedicate herself to the prince who with a magic key had opened the door to an enchanted countryside; planning the life that they would share, the life that she would help him build. She had pictured herself looking in the mirror, with a new and happy pride, grateful that she had so much to bring him. Lila was not like that. In Lila’s eyes, in Lila’s voice there was nothing but the excitement of the chase.

  ‘I’ve got to play this carefully,’ she was saying. ‘I have to be discreet desperately discreet. That’s where you can help me. It doesn’t matter, about you: you can explain to Barbara that you want to see more of Angus. She’ll be delighted. She’s anxious to have you married. Do you think it amuses her to have a stepdaughter around the house? I know she’s sweet and friendly. So’s my stepfather. But I know what he thinks inside himself. Do you think he wants to remember all the time, do you think he wants his wife to be remembering all the time that that first marriage of hers was more than a marriage, it was a love affair? I know how my stepfather feels, so I can guess how Barbara feels. She’ll give you all the encouragement you need, and I can tag along as your chaperon. That’ll make it right with my people too.’

  ‘I see.’

  It was not a plan of which she particularly relished the prospect; but she did see Lila’s point of view. Things were different for Lila and she herself was only here for a short time.

  ‘Do you want to marry Angus?’

  Lila shrugged. ‘I may do, later on, but I don’t think I shall. This is something …’ she checked. ‘This isn’t the Victorian age. A woman can experiment, as much as a man. This is something that I’ve got to have; I want to find out the kind of person that I am. I’ve learnt a lot tonight.’

  It was said with a brutality that shocked Shelagh but at the same time attracted her. It was a relief to deal with somebody who knew her mind, who went straight for what she wanted.

  She thinks of nothing but herself, thought Shelagh; never asks herself what’s good for Angus; she sees Angus only as a means of getting something for herself. I couldn’t feel like that. I’d want to do things for him. It would be exciting, yes, to be the object of a direct, primitive necessity; to feel a man coming at you as it were in blinkers, seeing only you, wanting only you. But she remembered the look in Gerald’s eyes when he had looked at Barbara; that all-consuming, all-embracing adoration. That was what she really needed.

  ‘I’ve thought it out,’ Lila was continuing. ‘I can see a plan. The start of one anyhow. My stepfather’s always saying that he must go out to Kassaya. There’s a cricket match there the week after next. The island against the camp. Angus will be playing a two-day match; the Saturday and Sunday. My stepfather won’t stay on for the second day. But you insist that I do. Then I’ll insist that you come back with me. We can make Angus drive us back. We’ll work out the details later. But that’s the start. Now, when you get back start working on your stepmother. I’ll work on mine. Everything’ll go all right; if we keep our heads.’

  Chapter Eleven

  Basil Hallett’s telephone bell rang. ‘I hope you recognize my voice.’ It was unmistakable; the Indian’s. ‘Of course I do.’

  ‘I am coming out to Kassaya on Friday. There is something I want to ask you. I hope it will be possible for you to have your hair cut on Friday at four-thirty at Ah Chong’s.’

  On Friday he was playing golf, in a foursome with Barbara and Julia.

  ‘Another day would suit me better.’

  ‘Friday is the sole day that I can manage. If you cannot be there, I shall be disappointed; I trust you will.’

  The receiver clicked back. Basil sat motionless at his desk. There had been an ominous quality about the Indian’s voice. It was not a threat; it was not an entreaty. It was not a command. But somehow the Indian had managed to convey that it would be wise for him to be there. He felt inquisitive. He had better find out what the fellow wanted.

  Julia was surprised and annoyed when he called off the game.

  ‘You don’t need a haircut. It can run another week.’

  ‘It’s begun to feel uncomfortable round the neck.’

  ‘Then let me shave it for you. It won’t take two minutes.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I want to have my hair cut.’

  ‘All right, all right. But it is a nuisance. I don’t know who else to get.’

  ‘There are seventy male members of the golf club.’

  ‘There may be, but you know how Barbara and I play. We play for the fun of the game, for the people we play it with; it isn’t easy to find someone who’ll fit in with our way of playing. Surely you could have it put off to another day.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I’ve arranged to have it done on Friday.’

  ‘You’re being very tiresome.’

  That evening at the golf club Julia took her revenge. As each new group came on to the veranda, she called its attention to her husband’s hair. She did it in the lightest manner. ‘I want you to arbitrate. This is a family dispute. I won’t tell you which way the odds are lying, but do you or don’t you think that Basil needs a haircut?’

  ‘It’s you who are being tiresome now,’ said Basil.

  ‘Not at all. I want to prove that I’m not making a fuss over nothing. What do you think, Frieda? Does Basil need a haircut?’

  From the way she put the questions, no one would have felt a family quarrel was afoot, though it was well known that the Halletts often did quarrel in public. ‘A very good thing too,’ people would say. ‘They get it off in public, then make it up when they get home. Much better than those couples who are all smiles at parties and then bawl each other out the moment the front door closes.’

  As they walked down the clubhouse steps, Julia slipped her hand under his arm. ‘I wasn’t being tiresome, darling; honestly I wasn’t. Only one person in five thought that you did need a haircut, and I think most of those said that because they thought it was I who wanted you to have it done; they thought it gallant to take a woman’s side. Please, for my sake, change the day.’

  He was sorely tempted. He saw Julia’s point. He did not want to disappoint her. His hair did not actually need cutting: he did not see that it could really matter if he did not make the date, but his curiosity was roused. What did that Indian want? His awareness of being in the wrong made his manner abrupt. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Oh, very well.’ And she let her hand drop against her side.

  2

  He arrived at Ah Chong’s punctually. Nobody was waiting, which was as well; when a local man went to the barber’s on a Friday he had the works. Basil was in the chair within two minutes. While he was being served three other men ca
me in.

  ‘Will you have a shampoo, sir?’

  He shook his head. He was going back home, to take a shower.

  At the exact moment that he rose from his chair the Indian came into the shop. He paused, looked round him. ‘Two waiting already? No, that is too many. I will call another day.’

  He left simultaneously with Basil.

  ‘It is very kind of you to come. There is a little service that you can pay me. A friend of mine is applying for a post in Pearl next Wednesday. Ahmed Abrusak. He has every qualification. He does not know that I am making this request on his behalf. It is very much better that he should not know. Ahmed Abrusak. I know you will not regret it. I sincerely thank you, Mr. Hallett.’

  No one watching the two together would have suspected that they had done more than exchange the civilities of the day. The Indian moved quickly towards his car. Basil hesitated, then went back into the shop. He looked at the cosmetics vitrine. He chose a small green and white striped package.

  It was close on six when he reached his bungalow. He was tempted to drive straight round to the golf course and greet Julia as she came back into the club; that was too obvious, though. The green and white package had a label on it. He wrote, ‘I can’t think why someone so much sweeter than the contents of this package should be involved with such a boor but I suppose there must be contrasts. I love you with all my heart. Join me at the swimming-pool bar and let’s have a Chinese dinner.’ He put the package on her pillow.

  3

  The post of filing clerk for which a replacement was being sought was of minor importance, but it required a certain level of education and intelligence. There were twenty applicants for the post. Basil interviewed them one by one. He had a stenographer at his side. Ahmed Abrusak was the seventh to appear. He was an Indian, tall, plumpish, thick-lipped, very dark. Basil judged him to be about thirty-two. Basil looked at the recommendations he had brought; one was from his schoolmaster in Karak, the second from the President of the Eastern District Football Club. Both testified to his general honesty as a man; the first said that he had passed grade four and was competent to carry out office work in a neat orderly fashion, the second said that as a sportsman he had kept to the rules, played in the spirit of the game; that he was of regular habits and did not break training. Basil noted his heavy jowl and paunch. ‘When did you play football last?’ he asked.