Fuel for the Flame

by Alec Waugh

Shelagh was sitting beside Julia Hallett. They seemed very deep in conversation. Each had a female on the other side of her; as always happened at an oil camp party, the women got in one group, the men in another. Perhaps he’d establish an alibi better by not behaving like a wolf, by joining the other men at the bar. Charles came across, the shaker in his hand. Angus put his hand over his glass. ‘I want to bowl you fellows out this afternoon.’ Barbara was carrying round a dish of cream cheese, flavoured with onions. ‘Time for vitamins,’ she said.

  Julia’s and Shelagh’s heads were close together. ‘All this must seem very tame after the excitement of coming out in London,’ Julia was saying. ‘Meeting all those exciting people, dances, being presented, Henley, Lord’s and Ascot and all that. It’s something I missed. I got married too soon. I’d gone to Switzerland, Barbara to Heidelberg. We planned to come out next spring. We wrote each other every Sunday about our plans. Then I went into Lausanne one day to do some shopping, met Basil and there it was.’

  ‘It sounds much more exciting than coming out.’

  ‘Does it? Perhaps it does, and it was exciting. I had gone into a coffee shop to have an ice. We were terribly chaperoned. Only allowed so much money, having to be in at a certain time, not allowed into Lausanne alone. But I was always up to some kind of mischief with the girl I shared a room with; we used to separate the moment we arrived, so I was sitting all by myself in a café, enjoying an ice cream—you know what those Swiss ice creams are like—when a tallish, dark young man came in. He paused in the doorway, looked slowly round him, then he saw me. If you haven’t had that feeling, I can’t explain it. If you have had you wouldn’t be here, or if you have had it and you’re here, then you’re unlucky because it hasn’t turned out right. When I saw Basil, something said to me, “This is it,” it must have said the same thing to him; he stared at me, stood like a statue, then walked straight across. “I’m Basil Hallett, I’m in Pearl,” he said. “I’ve just finished a contract in Saudi Arabia. I’m going to the Far East in two months’ time. I’ve a good job. I’m a bachelor. I think you’re the most attractive girl I’ve ever seen.”

  ‘Then he started talking, and I started talking. He told me all about himself. I told him all about myself. I believe we knew each other better in that first two hours than we’ve ever known each other since. I’ve so often wished that we could get back to that beginning. We’ve learnt so many superficial things about ourselves, how we react to this and that. He comes into the house after a day’s work, and I can spot the mood he’s in. I know how to adjust myself. I know how to manage him. But the real Basil, I believe I knew him better in that first two hours. We sat in that café and we ate ice cream after ice cream. “It’s seven o’clock,” he said. “Do you have to be anywhere?” “Yes,” I said, “of course, but it doesn’t matter.” “Shall we eat here or shall we go somewhere else?” he said. “It’s nice here, isn’t it?” “Yes,” I agreed, “it’s nice here.” There was nothing on the menu but cafeteria food. “Does an asparagus omelette sound nice?” he said. “Yes,” I said, “that sounds heaven.”

  ’ “There must be some light Swiss wine that goes with it.” I hardly ever drank anything in those days. I didn’t like the wine he ordered, but I didn’t dare to tell him so. But though I didn’t like the taste of it, I liked the feeling that it gave me. I felt so at peace and yet so excited.

  ‘The clock moved on. I scarcely noticed it.

  ‘Earlier, as we had sat over the ice cream, I had thought of my friend Sybyl waiting at the station: peering out of the carriage, wondering whether she should start without me, knowing that there was nothing to be gained by waiting. I thought of her now waiting for me in the room we shared, beginning to get alarmed, afraid that something might have happened. I supposed that I should do something, ring up the school, put people’s minds at rest. Had I been missed at prayers? Perhaps I hadn’t. It was Madame’s day to see her mother. She was staying the night. Sybyl might be able to fix it with her assistant. I wondered, but I didn’t worry. I didn’t care what happened. Being with this stranger whom I seemed to have known all my life was so much more important. Then Basil said, “When’s your last train?” “I don’t know,” I said. “I only know them up to seven.”

  ‘We got a timetable, and we found that the last train went in twenty minutes. “I’m going to see you back,” he said. “Is there an hotel in the place?” “Yes, in the station.” “Fine. Tomorrow morning I’ll come back here and get my things.”

  ‘It seemed the most natural thing in the world that he should decide to come with me. We caught the train by seconds. It was a crowded carriage. I was glad of that. I didn’t want to be alone with him, not yet. I wanted to curl up among my pillows and fall asleep, brooding about him, wondering how we’d be. We couldn’t even sit together. He had to stand.

  ‘It was nearly twelve when we got back. The school was only two minutes from the station. My room was on the first floor. There was a light at the window. I thanked God for Sybyl. It was a low house and there was a sloping roof. If I stood on his shoulders, I could get on the roof, he said. We stood facing each other; it was only three-quarters dark. There was no moon, but there were street lamps. He put his hands on my shoulders; I wondered if he was going to kiss me. I hoped he was, but I was glad he didn’t. I wanted to have everything to look forward to. He gave me a little shake.

  ’ “I’ll go into Lausanne and collect my things as soon as possible. I’ll be back by noon. Come down to the station when you are free. Now up you jump.” He went on his knees, so that I could climb on his shoulders.

  ‘That’s how it started and that’s how it went on; when it was a question of having a London season or coming out with him, it simply was not a question. There wasn’t anything else that I could do.’

  Shelagh had looked across the room at Basil. She could see his charm. He was good-looking and he had dash. The kind of man who could sweep a girl off her feet, because he was capable of being himself swept off his feet. He was adventurous. His face was lit now, and he was talking eagerly. He was the kind of man that a girl could fall for at first sight. It was fun to think of that happening to Julia. It couldn’t have been the same for Barbara: a man old enough to be her father. How different that must have been.

  Which way would it be for her?

  5

  It was half past one. The cocktail shaker had been put away, a servant had begun to clear away the plates and glasses. Basil came across to Julia. He put his hand under her elbow. ‘On our way,’ he said.

  ‘There’s nothing much to eat.’

  ‘There needn’t be. I’ve had a lot of Barbara’s vitamins. In fact I’m not sure that I need lunch. I believe I’m ready for a siesta right away.’

  ‘Not till we’ve had some salad anyhow.’

  The air-conditioning machine purred softly: the room was twilit with a few bars of sunlight striking through the shutters on to walls and ceiling. A large bowl of roses scented the air. Julia stirred within Basil’s arms. ‘Thank God for Saturdays,’ she said. She lifted her hand and drew its palm slowly along his cheek. ‘Do you know what I was telling Shelagh at that party?’

  ‘You tell me what you were telling Shelagh.’

  ‘I told her about how we met, how we stayed on in that coffee shop, talking, talking, how you proposed to me first thing next day.’

  ‘Did you tell her how I did it?’

  They laughed together. He had said, ‘I had to see what you looked like in the light before I asked you to share my life.’

  ‘She thought that cute and modern. She hoped it would happen that way with her.’

  ‘She’ll be taking a big risk if she does. It’s meant your marrying a ne’er-do-well.’

  ‘That’s not how I think of you.’

  ‘Someone who’ll never be a general manager, someone who’ll never …’

  ‘Darling, I don’t care about those things. Successful men are hard and pompous. Things have dried up in them. They don’t enjoy th
emselves. I don’t want that kind of husband. No, I don’t want anything I haven’t got: our life together, just the way it is, that’s all.’

  He moved his head close to hers, rubbing his chin against her cheek. ‘It’s not for my sake, you know, I want those other things.’

  ‘I know it isn’t.’

  ‘If one has a beautiful picture, one wants a beautiful room to hang it in.’

  ‘I know, darling, I know.’

  ‘You know too, don’t you, that I adore you.’

  His arms lay beneath her head and he turned her face towards him. She gave a happy, half-nervous little laugh. ‘I thought we were coming up here for a siesta.’

  6

  On the veranda of the Keables’ house, Colonel Forrester woke slowly. He felt fresh and buoyant. When he was young, and had taken a siesta, he had felt livery for a couple of hours afterwards, with a tongue like a chicken run; but when he had gone to bed at night with his head singing and the room going round, he had woken up clear-headed. The process was now reversed. He woke fresh after a siesta and felt like hell next day if he had a drink after dinner.

  He showered and went over to the desk on which he had left his briefcase. He had borrowed from Keable a list of the camp personnel. He copied out from it a dozen names at random. He was anxious to know who had recommended Ahmed Abrusak, but he did not want anyone to know that he was specially interested in Ahmed. He would include his name in a list long enough to avoid suspicion. On Monday he would send it in to Keable.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The oil camp won the toss and went in to bat. Shelagh sat between Lila and Gerald Fyreman. She looked at him thoughtfully. Was this a penance for him, or did he enjoy the game enough to be able to watch it without envy? It was the first time that she had seen him since the dance. She picked up the thread of their dropped conversation.

  ‘If you decide to give up the army, have you any idea what you’d like to do?’ she asked.

  ‘I’ve thought of trying to get into Pearl or one of the oil companies. It’s the nearest approach to military life.’

  ‘Do you think you’d like it?’

  ‘You’re the best judge of that. I’ve only seen it from the outside. You’ve seen it from inside. How does it strike you?’

  She hesitated. She had listened to so many pros and cons since her arrival. She could have written a long essay on the advantages and disadvantages of the life. But that was not the question she had been asked. How would it strike Gerald? How would he like it here?

  ‘You might find it confining, seeing the same people all the time.’

  ‘That might be rather pleasant, mightn’t it?’

  Was he thinking of Barbara when he said that? Was he picturing a life in which his every day would be lightened by a glimpse of her? It was touching to be so much in love. She prayed there would be some reward for it. Why shouldn’t there?

  Lila leant across. ‘Is there any reason, Gerald, why I should come back tonight? I’d rather like to see the whole of this match; there’ll be a dance at the club that should be gay. There isn’t anything, is there, that I have to do tomorrow?’

  ‘Not as far as I know.’

  ‘You could put me up, Shelagh, couldn’t you?’

  ‘Naturally. We’d love to.’

  ‘That’s settled then. I’ll talk to my mother later.’

  Lila sat back in her chair. Angus was bowling now. He had a short, springing run, like a creature of the jungle. It was compact and rhythmic; eight long strides, then the left leg went up and his whole body swung through on to it. He seemed to sling the ball rather than bowl it. He went right back on to his right leg. His right hand seemed to be a bare foot above the ground. He was an exciting animal.

  He bowled five overs, then was rested. You could not bowl fast for long in that heavy heat. He had taken three wickets, all of them clean bowled, during that brief spell. As he pulled on his short-sleeved sweater, she rose and walked over to her mother.

  ‘I’d like to stay over till tomorrow, and then bring back Shelagh with me. There’s nothing against that, is there? Angus could drive us in,’ she added.

  Her mother shook her head. ‘Nothing at all. It sounds an ingenious idea.’ She underlined the word ‘ingenious’, and a smile flickered on her lips.

  Lila returned to her seat. ‘That’s fine by my mother. She had quite a good idea, Shelagh, that you should come back with me. There’s a lunch party on the Monday that might amuse you. She suggested that we should get Angus to drive us. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

  She underlined the ‘that’, giving it a special meaning. Shelagh flushed. She did not want Gerald to think she was in love with Angus.

  2

  The cricket match ended early the next day at half past five. By six o’clock Shelagh and Lila were ready to start. There were no cocktail party groups. Everyone wanted to wake fresh next morning, for the start of a week’s work. Barbara offered to make up some sandwiches, but Lila shook her head.

  ‘We’ll get food somewhere on the way.’

  Shelagh stood aside from the door, so that Lila could get in first.

  ‘No, no,’ said Lila. ‘After you.’

  Her hand was firm upon Shelagh’s elbow. Another alibi, I suppose, thought Shelagh. As soon as we’re out of camp she’ll be changing seats.

  She did not, though. She sat in her corner of the seat, leaning away, in silence. Perhaps it was not an alibi after all. Perhaps it was a calculated move in her campaign. She was biding her time.

  It was a calm lovely night. There was a moon, half-full, to light them into town. The air was warm, but the speed of the car’s passage cooled their cheeks. There was little traffic. Their headlights pierced the dusk, revealing in sudden detached pictures the cabins along the road, the rows of palms, the plumed and towering bamboos.

  Angus drove in silence. He was nervous, taut, on edge. Lila had engineered this. He had no doubt of that, but why and for what purpose? Until the evening of the dance, she had been offhand. She had nearly cut her dance with him. That walk in the garden had been … well, what had it been? The impulse of the moment. He had danced in a special way to assert himself, because she had annoyed him. Her response had flattered him, but beyond that … He had scarcely thought about her afterwards and then, at the cocktail party yesterday, had come that sudden glint of a conspiracy. What had she in mind? Not marriage, surely? She aimed at bigger game. She had access to that bigger game; wealth and titles and the entrance to a larger way of life. She would not want to shut herself away in a remote island such as this. … But if it wasn’t marriage that she wanted … surely it couldn’t be that … a girl of under twenty and of that world. … It couldn’t be, and yet … the thought that it could be made him tense and silent.

  There was a small township a mile or two before they reached the Macartney estate. It was shortly after seven. ‘We could have some food here,’ said Angus. ‘There’s a good Chinese joint.’

  ‘No, let’s go on. Let’s get the drive done, then we can relax,’ said Lila.

  Five minutes later she said, ‘You’ve got some food, I suppose, in that flat of yours?’

  ‘A little.’

  ‘Then let’s eat there. I’ll fix something.’

  They reached Kuala Prang soon after eight. ‘We shan’t be expected home for a while yet. They won’t have guessed the match would end so soon,’ said Lila.

  She made an appraisal of the flat. It had two main rooms, and a guestroom on the far side of the bathroom.

  ‘Mix us a drink,’ she said, ‘while we fix our faces.’

  ‘How hungry are you?’ she asked Shelagh, as soon as they were alone.

  ‘Not desperately.’

  ‘You could hold out for a couple of hours if you had to?’

  ‘Easily.’

  ‘Then when you’re half-way through your drink, say you’re not feeling well and go into the far bedroom.’

  They returned to the sitting-room. Angus had an electric
mixer and had prepared a frothing daiquiri. He had brought in a cheese and a plate of crackers.

  ‘This is good,’ she said. ‘What have you got in your Frigidaire?’

  ‘Eggs, ham, cold chicken.’

  ‘Then I’ll fix an omelette. But let’s enjoy this cocktail first. Isn’t this much more fun than a restaurant? I like it here. It’s personal; and all those books. Nothing furnishes a room as books do. I must see what you’ve got and borrow some. I like those spears. And then those cricket groups. It’s such a contrast, that’s what makes it you.’

  She was as garrulous now as she had been silent in the car. Shelagh watched her, puzzled, fascinated. She could hardly believe that this was real, that Lila was on the brink of one of the most decisive experiences in a woman’s life; the experience of which schoolgirls talked with such avid, furtive curiosity; was Lila really going to cross that threshold, within the next hour, so casually?

  Shelagh stood up.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m feeling odd. I’m not adjusted to the climate yet. Do you mind if I lie down a little? It’s nothing. It’ll pass. I’ve been like this before.’

  She put the back of her hand against her forehead. She acted the part, yet she was in the part. She did feel dizzy. The whole world had come to seem unreal.

  Lila hurried forward, acting her part in turn. Her arm went round Shelagh’s waist. ‘Angus, have you some aspirin?’ she asked. She led Shelagh through the bathroom to the spare bedroom.

  The moment they were alone the tone of her voice changed. ‘That’s wonderful, thank you. Are you certain that you’re not hungry? Sure, really sure?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I’m sure.’

  Angus waited in the sitting-room. His mouth was parched. He could hear cars honking in the street below, but from the room beyond he could hear nothing. He was tired, after two days’ cricket, and the long motor drive, but his brain was racing. He had never felt more awake, alive. The door handle turned. Lila stood in the doorway. There was a smile of triumph on her lips.