by Alec Waugh
He paused interrogatively.
Ahmed nodded. ‘Yes, I was.’
‘Did it mean much to you? Were you enthusiastic about it? Did you care strongly about the things for which the Party stood?’
Ahmed shrugged. All that talk about ‘Imperialism’, ‘colonialism’, ‘exploitation of the poor’. Did he care strongly? No, of course, he didn’t. Talk and Coca-Cola.
‘Now do you think,’ Forrester continued, ‘that is was only on account of the children that your cousin wanted you to move into the country? Don’t you think perhaps …’
He paused, on a note of interrogation. He had got Ahmed talking earlier; there was no reason why Ahmed should not talk again. He sat waiting, his eyes watching the prisoner. ‘Had your cousin any other idea at the back of his mind? Did he think—how shall I put it?—did he fancy that you could be of any help to him at Kassaya?’
‘You’re right he did. That Progressive Party. I don’t know what it’s all about. They talk and talk, they argue and they argue, and they don’t drink. They feel that I would be of help to them … I don’t quite know how. By watching what goes on, by hearing what is said. They seem to think …’ He paused. His head was muddled by the rum that he had drunk, by the beating-up he had received. What was it they had wanted him to do? ‘I think,’ he hesitated, ‘they wanted me to find out which people thought the way that they did. …’
Forrester nodded encouragingly. ‘Yes. I see that. And I suppose that when you had found out your cousin would get in touch with them.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘He would ask them to join the Progressive Party?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘How much were you being paid to do this for him?’
‘Nothing, sir.’
‘Nothing at all?’
‘If I take them to a bar, he will pay me back.’
‘I see. Not very generous, but still …’ Forrester paused. There was again on his face that bland avuncular smile. Nobody could have seemed more well intentioned. ‘Now let me get this straight. You yourself have no strong feelings about politics,’ he said.
‘No, sir, none at all.’
‘You joined the Progressive Party when you were young because your cousin asked you, but you never attended meetings after he had left Karak.’
‘No, sir, never.’
‘And you stopped paying your subscription?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You have no real loyalty to the Party, apart from the fact that your cousin runs it.’
‘No, sir, no.’
‘Now I’m wondering this: has it not occurred to you that I might be interested in the same information, that I might like to know who belongs to the Progressive Party, and who declines to join? I need to know what happens in this island. I want to know what people are thinking in Kassaya. You could be helpful to me. I don’t see why you shouldn’t tell me what you tell your cousin. It would be better, of course, not to let him know. But I don’t see why you should hesitate to do this for me. You wouldn’t be disloyal to your cousin. I don’t see that you would, do you?’
‘No, sir, no.’
‘And there are a number of ways in which I can help you. I wouldn’t expect you to work for me for nothing. I can make you a monthly allowance of twenty dollars. If you produce anything of especial interest, I will give you more. And of course we can ignore this present matter of your arrest. You can go out of this room a free man. I can, you see, do quite a lot to help you.’
Forrester’s smile could not have been more protective. Every wrinkle in his wizened face beamed benevolence. Ahmed had the feeling that all his troubles had been taken off his shoulders. Twenty dollars a month was a great deal of money. And not to go to prison. He had never been to prison. What would Susan say? It would spoil the pride and excitement over his new job. It might even lose him the job. Pearl would not want a gaolbird. Would it be reported in the paper? If it was reported in the Guardian, they’d be sure not to want him. Besides, how long would he get in gaol? It was a serious offence to strike a policeman. He was due to start work the following Monday. If he was not there, the post would be given to somebody else. He probably would get a week in prison. The promise of release was even more persuasive than the offer of twenty dollars a month; and twenty dollars that Susan would not know about was worth a hundred dollars on a payroll. Twenty dollars for himself alone. And there was such a friendly expression on the Colonel’s face. You’d never think of him as a policeman.
Forrester wrote out a formal receipt, counted out forty dollars. ‘Here’s two months’ salary in advance. I’m afraid that we have to have a receipt,’ he said. ‘I’ll arrange to have someone take the information from you. Don’t write anything down. Don’t worry if you don’t hear from me. You’ll get your allowance monthly in advance in future. Mind that you don’t let your cousin know. That’s all that matters. Here, my boy, sign here.’
As soon as the door had closed, Forrester took out his account book and noted down forty dollars against the name Ahmed. He then walked to the filing cabinet, and entered the receipt in Ahmed’s file. It might come in very useful one day. Then he went back to the chess-board. He cogitated; then moved a pawn. Ah, that was it. Black mated in two moves. He need not worry about that chap any more.
6
Three days later, Basil received in a plain envelope a cheque for twenty-five pounds which was wrapped in a blank sheet of paper.
Chapter Twelve
On the first day of the cricket match at Kassaya Colonel Forrester fulfilled his promise to the Keables and brought ‘the old Prima Donna’ down to lunch. ‘The old Prima Donna’ was a large handsome woman who had in youth made a tentative appearance on the stage; hence her soubriquet. They arrived soon after ten. On Saturdays it was the Keables’ practice to stage a cocktail party for members of the staff. About a dozen or so, with their wives, would be invited. Every member of the staff would receive at least two invitations in a year. Seniors and juniors were invited to the same parties and there was no protocol. It was one of Charles’s many innovations. The parties began at a quarter to twelve and lasted till half past one.
‘If you intend to justify your visit in terms of work, you’d better do it right away,’ Charles told Forrester. ‘I shan’t feel in the mood for work this afternoon. Is there anything you particularly want to see?’
‘I’d like to see the kind of file you keep of the personnel you employ locally, what references they have, what check is kept on them. I’d like to know how easy it would be for a subversive boy to get a job here.’
‘I’ll take you to the man in charge of that, I expect you know him. Basil Hallett.’
‘Can’t say I do.’
‘His wife’s a great friend of Barbara’s. They were at school together. You must have seen them together.’
‘That plumpish, cute little number with her hair cut like a helmet?’
‘That’s her.’
‘Of course, but I never knew her name. I never remember names. An occupational hazard, dear old boy. I spend all my days with files and photographs and fingerprints. I know who they are on paper, but not in the flesh. Falling apart. I wish they’d let me retire, before I blot my copybook completely. Let’s go and see him. I won’t take long.’
The personnel branch, as in most big businesses, was favoured in Kassaya in terms of location and comfortable premises. It was set above the refinery, on a slight incline. Through his window Basil Hallett could look on to the main drive before the swimming pool. His room was air-conditioned. Forrester shivered when he came into it.
‘How you boys avoid bronchitis, I don’t know. I have the good sense to carry a pullover around.’ He proceeded to put it on. It was a grey and tattered garment. ‘Now please don’t think I’m going to be a nuisance,’ he began. ‘I know that I haven’t any right to ask you questions, but I’ve got your old man’s permission to ask you them. If I ask you anything that you feel is—well, how shall I put it?—out of line
, you tell me so and we’ll refer it back to him, without offence either way. You know how it is in a place like this; we all work together: and the Residency runs the show; and there is a certain amount of trouble in the air right now. Nationalism, Communism—a lot of “Wolf, Wolf” if you ask me. But you know how it is. Questions get shot at me unexpectedly; I like to have the answers at my finger-tips. Let us suppose that his nibs said at one of our conferences, “Whitehall is worried about the arrival of subversive elements.” You know the fancy words they use, why can’t he say “Damned Bolshies”. Anyhow, that’s how he’d start off, then suddenly he’d say, “Forrester, suppose that such a person wanted to join the oil refinery. How difficult would he find it?” I’d like to have my answer ready. How many new men do you take on a year?’
‘About twenty-five.’
‘Two a month. How do you check on them?’
The Colonel’s talk had wandered, as it always did. Everyone said the same thing about him. ‘He keeps on jumping from point to point. He may know where he’s headed, but no one else does.’ This time he had been unexpectedly direct. ‘Each applicant has to have two references,’ Basil said.
‘Do you check those references?’
‘If it seems necessary.’
‘I see.’ The Colonel paused. ‘You get my point, of course?’
‘What point, sir?’
‘A man might bring faked references.’
‘I suppose he could.’
‘When you said, “If it seems necessary” … You won’t think, will you, that I’m being tiresome. But you can guess what it’s like for me, when the old man puts me in the witness-box. “When it seems necessary.” That sounds like the Whitehall answer, “I took the appropriate precautions”—appropriate, such an elastic word. “When it seems necessary.” How often does it seem necessary, and when it does, what do you do precisely?’
All the time that he talked, his face wore a wrinkled, friendly smile. He could not have had a less intimidating manner.
‘As a matter of fact …’ Basil hesitated, ‘I don’t believe that I ever have felt that it was necessary.’
‘I don’t suppose you have; this is a family community, we trust each other. There’s no reason why we shouldn’t. We all have the same essential interests at heart. And I suppose that if you were to feel suspicious, if something made you feel that certain precautions were necessary, you would get in touch with my office. Yes, of course you would. So if his nibs ever asks me, that’s what I shall tell him. Two recommendations with each applicant; by the way, do you keep those references?’
‘I imagine that I do.’
‘I imagine that you do, too, but in case you don’t … could you check up on that point and if you find that you don’t, could you do so in future? I’m sorry to bother you with this. As I said, it’s only the drill of it. And I like to have all my answers at my finger-tips. Now to join the old Prima Donna at the swimming pool.’
2
It was a hot, bright day. An occasional cloud obscured the sun. There were few rainless days in Karak. But Barbara felt no qualms about setting out chairs and tables on the veranda. They were made of wicker work and could not spoil. Her guests could always retreat into the house, if a storm blew up.
Her Saturday parties followed a fixed routine: beer and gin and tonics were available for those who wanted a long drink, but daiquiris, made out of the local rum, were the staple stimulant. About half-way through the party Charles would produce his speciality, a rum cocktail coloured with liqueur. The resultant colour would be repulsive. The rim of the glass would be coated with sugar. ‘You must now try a blue kiss,’ he would say, or a green, pink, yellow or orange one. Newcomers were nervous of trying them but in spite of their appearance they had a pleasant flavour with the sharpness of the daiquiri softened by the sweetness of the cordial. Charles knew that in a community, where you were meeting the same people every day, you had to introduce innovations to make a party go. On Saturday afternoons one of the stock questions at the swimming pool was, ‘What coloured kiss did you get today?’
Charles also produced conjuring tricks and trick toys from the U.S.A. He had a bar fitted in the corner of the veranda and after the party had been going for twenty minutes and talk had begun to louden, he would produce a trick for each guest as he came up to have his glass replenished. ‘Stay here a minute and see if you can solve this problem,’ He would then produce a small ivory box, shaped like a coffin. It would contain a metal mummy. He would take out the mummy, replace it, shut the lid. ‘That’s easy, isn’t it?’ he would say. He would reopen the coffin, take out the mummy, hand it to his guest. ‘Now you put it back.’ The guest would do so, but the lid would immediately jump off.
When several guests had made the attempt and failed, he would explain that there was a magnet in the bottom of the coffin that jerked the body up when its catch had been released. He had laid in a sufficient store of these toys to have a new gadget every Saturday.
‘I do my best to make each party an occasion,’ he told Shelagh.
The fact that the Studholmes were present made the present party a special one, but Charles was concerned that there should be no atmosphere of protocol. Only one point had been stressed, that all guests must arrive before the chief was expected. The cricket match was not due to start till half past three. It was considered too hot to begin earlier. Because of the light, stumps had to be drawn at six o’clock. Normally an innings lasted for the full two and a half hours of play. The island eleven was flying out from Kuala Prang, with the exception of Angus, who had motored from his estate in the cool of the morning, so that he could rest before the game.
‘You’ll ask him to the party, won’t you?’ Shelagh had asked Barbara the night before.
Barbara had smiled. On the evening after the dance, on her return to the camp, Shelagh had asked her stepmother a number of questions about Angus. She was inquisitive about him on Lila’s account, and they were the kinds of questions that a girl would ask about a man in whom she was about to become interested herself. Was he supposed to be in love with anyone? What reputation did he have, in that way? Was he keeping a Karaki girl?
‘What do you think of him yourself?’ Barbara asked. ‘Do you find him attractive?’
‘Yes, in a way.’
‘I see.’
Shelagh blushed. It was a sense of guilt that gave that blush its depth, but it was the kind of blush that would have been expected of a girl trapped into a confession. Barbara read it that way. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I’ll keep your secret.’
3
Angus had not known that Lila was coming to watch the game. Her presence was a shock to him. He had not seen her since the dance. He had rather dreaded their next meeting, wondering how she would receive him. He felt nervous and on his guard. His experience with young women of the West was negligible.
She greeted him in the frankest way. ‘I have come out here for one reason, to see you play cricket. I hope you won’t let me down.’
She looked him very straight in the eyes. Did she pause or had he only fancied that she paused before those last two words ‘play cricket’? Her directness excited him, but it left him tongue-tied.
‘I’ve told my mother that you and Shelagh are attracted by each other,’ she went on. ‘Shelagh has given her stepmother the same impression. It’s always well to have an alibi, so you’d better behave as though there were some grounds for it.’
4
The presence of Lila had been a surprise to Angus but that of Blanche Pawling was not. She had lunched with him during the week, and put him on his guard. ‘You’ve got to behave,’ she had warned him.
‘It’ll be very tantalizing.’
‘I’m glad to hear that.’
‘Won’t there be one little chance?’
‘Not one.’
‘Not even …?’
‘No, not even. That’s what living in an oil camp is like. Everyone knows what you are doing. No privacy. That�
�s why people go off their heads. It would be a terrible place to fall in love; seeing the person every day and not being able to do a thing about it. We’re lucky, very very lucky.’
He had nodded in agreement. He too had thought that he was very lucky. Wasn’t she exactly what every young man wanted, an ardent mistress who made no demands on him?
He walked over to her from Lila.
‘Am I supposed to know you well?’ he asked.
‘Well enough to sit beside me for five minutes.’
Her nearness and her scent made him feel restless. Blanche was sitting in a corner; he could see her husband standing at the bar. Pawling’s face was flushed; he was talking loudly, boastfully. Had he the least conception of what his wife was like? These husbands, who laid down the law about politics and business while all the time their wives … Beyond Blanche’s shoulder he could see Lila with a group of young men round her. Her back was turned to him. She was wearing a loose-fitting cotton frock, held lightly at the waist; the wind blowing from the veranda made it cling against her hips, rendering apparent the firmness and suppleness of the low slow curve from neck to ankle. He drew a long breath into his lungs. He had never before had such a sense of power; of control over his destiny. He rose. ‘I mustn’t outstay my five minutes.’ He looked round the room, searching for Shelagh. He must maintain his alibi.
