Fuel for the Flame

by Alec Waugh

  Charles was moved. Barbara had spoken of Julia being desperate. But she herself seemed on the verge of hysteria. What on earth was biting her? He couldn’t let her go on like this.

  ‘You’re taking this very seriously,’ he said.

  ‘Wouldn’t you take it seriously if you were me, if you saw your best friend on the brink of … I don’t know what? Surely, surely you can make a special case of this.’

  ‘Please, Barbara, please.’ He had never seen her like this before. ‘Listen,’ he said, ‘I cannot promise anything this moment, but I will do my best. By lunch time on Monday I will let you know.’

  On the Monday morning, Charles rang up Forrester.

  ‘You asked me to let you know if anything unexpected happened in connexion with Basil Hallett. Something has. He is desperately anxious to be transferred. He applied a few weeks ago and I refused; I thought I handled him rather tactfully: but he’s applied again; this time in a different way. His wife has worked on my wife and I must say that she has worked her up into a highly emotional state. Barbara isn’t excitable as a rule. Hallett must be in a very peculiar state of mind.’

  ‘I see.’

  There was a pause, then Forrester spoke. ‘I’ll tell you what I’d like you to do if it is possible.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Let him have his transfer but tell him that you want it kept a secret in the camp. You could do that, couldn’t you, explaining that an exception has been made in this case and it would cause jealousy in the camp if it was known?’

  ‘I could do that.’

  ‘Then, having promised that, I’d like you to make as much delay as possible about putting the transfer through. That shouldn’t be difficult, should it?’

  ‘It will be extremely easy.’

  ‘Then everything is fine and I am most, most grateful.’

  Forrester shook his head, ruminatively. Things were coming to a head, fast, very fast, too fast. Someone was going to get hurt. He did not know whom, he did not know when or how. One picture was incomplete and blurred. He got up and walked to his filing cabinet. He took out the file marked ‘Macartney’. He glanced at the papers that Angus had stuffed into his trousers’ pocket the night he had burgled his father’s desk: he studied a list of names; then put a tick against two of them. He rang a bell. ‘I want Colonel Simes and Brigadier Mustapha brought in for questioning. Have warrants made out for their arrest, and search warrants for their houses. Make the arrests tonight.’

  He shook his head slowly; fast, much too fast. But if this was the way the Crown Prince wanted it. …

  Charles Keable returned to lunch in a sunny humour.

  ‘O.K.,’ he said, ‘I’ve fixed it.’

  Barbara ran into his arms, pressing herself against him. ‘Oh, darling, darling, you’ll never know how grateful I am for this!’ He held her tight. Her body was quivering. No, he had never seen her like this before. He was happy that he had been able to make her happy; the knowledge that he possessed the power to make her happy gave him a sense of confidence; but he was puzzled and worried. There was something here he did not understand. Why should Barbara be so worked up about the Halletts?

  ‘I expect you would like to tell Julia about this yourself,’ he said.

  To his surprise, she shook her head.

  ‘No. I’d rather you told Basil yourself: and I’d rather that neither Basil nor Julia learnt that I had made this effort on their behalf. It might make for awkwardness. You know how it is, when someone feels under an obligation to someone else. It’s the quickest way to lose a friend. I’d rather you told Basil that you had reconsidered his application for a transfer and had decided to move him to another camp.’

  ‘That makes everything very simple. I don’t want this transfer to be gossiped about inside the camp. I shan’t have too easy a business fixing it with the Head Office anyhow, and if the camp felt that Basil had had preferential treatment because his wife had been at school with mine it would be bad for morale. So I’d be grateful if you didn’t talk about this in the camp.’

  ‘That’ll be fine by me. How soon will they be going?’

  ‘As soon as we can manage.’

  ‘Good.’ She said it on a note of relief that increased his puzzlement. Why should she be so relieved? Wasn’t Julia her oldest friend? Wouldn’t she miss Julia? And why should she not want to tell Julia herself that her wish was granted? Julia must have begged and beseeched Barbara to intervene. He could picture their talk together; he could hear Barbara saying, ‘I don’t believe there is any chance. Charles was very firm about it. But I will do my best, I promise you.’

  Why, when she had achieved that best, did she not want to report her victory? One liked to be thanked when one had done something for a person. Perhaps they had quarrelled during that final argument, and Barbara was glad to be rid of a friend who had proved exigent. Yet they had seemed friendly enough on the Friday evening. I suppose I shall find out sometime, he thought.

  After lunch he sent for Basil. He was wearing a cardigan and the air-conditioning unit was turned full on. ‘Come in, my boy, sit down.’

  He looked at Basil closely. Why was Forrester interested in his case? As Basil’s chief he had a right to know, but he and Forrester were friends of long standing. You had to trust men whom you’d learnt to trust.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about you,’ he said. ‘Some time ago Harry Pawling told me that you would like a transfer. We had a talk about it, you’ll remember, the night you came to dinner. I felt at the time it was a bad idea, but I’ve changed my mind. I believe that your particular abilities would be of more use to Pearl in a bigger organization than this. You need more scope: here we rely too much on detail and routine. Those are not your strong points. So although your contract has another ten months to run, I am going to recommend to Head Office—I have recently had an opportunity to make such a recommendation—that you be transferred to a large camp, probably on the Persian Gulf.’

  ‘I’m very grateful, sir.’

  Charles, as he spoke, watched the young man’s expression change from a timid, hangdog furtiveness to radiant relief. Relief just as Barbara had shown. There was the same ring in Basil’s voice that there had been in Barbara’s. ‘How soon shall I be leaving?’ The same first question too. What was at the back of all of this? He gave Basil the same answer that he had given Barbara. ‘As soon as we can manage.’ He attached the same cautionary rider.

  ‘I’m anxious that the news of this shouldn’t get round the camp till the actual flying date is fixed. Questions would be asked. I want to avoid that. Can I rely on you?’

  ‘You can certainly do that.’ There was jubilation in Basil’s voice. You’d imagine that he’d seen a fifty to one outsider come in first.

  Back in his office, Basil’s jubilation left him. He felt limp, exhausted, humble. He had won his battle, but it was a battle that should never have been joined. He had been weak, silly, improvident. It was only by the employment of base methods that he had been saved from the consequences of his folly. Never again, he vowed, never, never again. When he got back that afternoon to Iris and Julia at their tea, he was momentarily overwhelmed by an appreciation of the danger he had escaped.

  It might so easily have been the other way about; Harry Pawling might be coming back to find Julia taking tea in his drawing-room, because Blanche had been forced to offer sanctuary to Julia, because he instead of Rex was in disgrace. He stood beside Julia, put his arm round her shoulder, pressed her close against him. She looked up at him quickly, surprised and touched; he was not usually demonstrative in public.

  ‘I was thinking how very lucky I am,’ he said.

  Next morning the familiar envelope brought a chess problem. He chuckled. There wouldn’t be many more of these. He was glad that Keable had insisted upon secrecy. It was as well not have Ahmed reporting to his cousin that his boss was leaving. The Indian would almost certainly have applied the screw. As it was, a chess problem would one day receive no a
nswer and later, when it was too late, the news would reach the chess club that the bird had flown.

  He set out the chessmen. It carried a routine inquiry about Ahmed’s reaction to his cousin’s arrest. He could answer that honestly; he could for that matter answer honestly all the questions that would be set him before he left. Nothing mattered now. He was on his way. And as for this Communist menace, what was it but a scarecrow? It would be years before anything happened here. Cheerfully he worked out his answer.

  4

  On the following day Blanche went into town; it was surprising how little a time was needed for her packing. She did not see Harry again. He lunched at the swimming club; by the time he returned after work her trunks were packed, waiting to be called for the next day. On her arrival in town she learnt the astonishing good news that a sailing had been fixed for her in three days’ time. It was incredible how quickly it all had happened.

  On the day before she sailed, she paid her last visit to the hospital. Angus listened sympathetically to her recital of her break with Harry. ‘It’s the last thing I expected,’ was his comment.

  ‘It’s the last thing I expected.’

  They discussed her plans. Of where she would decide to live, of whether she would look for work and for what kind of work. They looked at it from every angle; he could not have been more sympathetic, but nothing that he said suggested that the change in her position would have anv effect on the situation between themselves: nothing indeed was said to suggest that there was any such situation. She chuckled inwardly; he would find out for himself, all in good time.

  He was hoping to leave the hospital within a month.

  ‘And how soon after that will you be coming home?’

  ‘As soon as I can manage. I can make all the preliminary arrangements here.’

  ‘I shall be settled into a flat by then.’

  And settled into a flat, she would know how to make herself indispensable to him. She would never mention the word marriage. She would always, in her planning, talk of a future that would not include him. In a year’s time he would be back in Karak, and she in London still; but she would be very surprised if, when the year was up, he did not find it very difficult to say good-bye to her.

  5

  On Monday morning Gerald returned to duty. The first person whom he met was Lila.

  ‘Your holiday has done you good. I’ve never seen you look so well,’ she said.

  ‘If I’m looking the way I feel, I must look wonderful.’

  He said it meaningly. She raised her eyebrows. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘I’ve been promised a job in Pearl and I’ve got engaged.’

  ‘Who to?’

  ‘Shelagh, of course.’

  ‘I don’t know where the of course comes in, but I think that’s wonderful.’

  ‘It’s wonderful for me.’

  ‘It’s not too bad for Shelagh either, but I am surprised. You never showed the slightest interest in each other.’

  ‘I concealed it rather cleverly. I didn’t think I stood a chance. I thought she was crazy about Angus.’

  ‘Oh, that.’

  ‘She told me it was a joke, something that you and she cooked up.’

  ‘So that’s what she told you, did she?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That’s very like her, but it’s not true at all. She was covering up for me and Angus, to fool my stepfather. It was nice of her not to tell you. You’ve picked yourself a very loyal wife, young man.’

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  An envelope addressed by the familiar typewriter lay on Basil Hallett’s desk. He smiled at the sight of it. Not so much longer now, he told himself. He pushed it to one side. Ten days ago he would have torn it open eagerly, impatient for an opportunity to set out the chessmen, unable to settle down to work till he had deciphered the message. Not any longer, though. The message could wait his convenience. In a very short time now, he would be beyond its writer’s reach. It was close on eleven o’clock before he set out his men.

  The message read: ‘Anxious personal meeting your next visit Kuala Prang.’ Again Basil chuckled. His next visit to Kuala Prang should be his last.

  He did not make any special effort to see Harry Pawling. Tomorrow would do as well as today. The day after, even, when it came to that. There was no hurry. He would wait till Harry sent for him. It was not till the next morning that he did—on a simple routine matter. The interview did not take five minutes, but as Harry set out the problem, Basil could not help feeling that two weeks ago it would not have been a problem, or rather that it would have been a problem that Harry would have settled for himself. Harry’s face was drawn, yet at the same time it had a bloated look. He had not been to the club during the last week. He had only stayed on the veranda of the clubhouse for a bare half-hour after his evening round of golf, then went home. It must be very lonely for him there. He was a man who needed company, particularly at a time like this, and at this very time he was deprived of it because he was afraid of the turning heads, the suddenly stilled conversations when he came into the room. Night after night he must be turning on the radio, with a bottle at his side. Did he get any proper food: or did he send his boy off early, saying he’d fix something for himself and then not fixing it? Poor devil. He must ask Julia to have him round one night for dinner.

  ‘Will that be all?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, that’ll be all.’

  Basil stood up. ‘Do you think there’ll be anything to take me into Kuala Prang during the next ten days?’ he asked.

  ‘Would you like there to be?’

  ‘There are a few things that need settling before I leave.’

  ‘Of course, of course. Well, let me see, there was that wages conference on Tuesday. I’d meant to go, but you could go instead.’

  ‘That’s very generous of you.’

  ‘Not at all. As a matter of fact, I’d as soon stay here.’

  ‘In that case then …’ he hesitated. ‘I suppose you’ve no idea when my transfer will come through.’

  ‘I’ve not the slightest.’

  ‘It might be tomorrow, it might be next week.’

  ‘It might be two months’ time.’

  ‘Of course.’

  But of course it couldn’t. How could it be, in view of the pressure Barbara had exerted. Harry did not know that. He thought of the transfer as a routine procedure. He could not picture Barbara in the background, egging her husband on. Two months indeed; two weeks at the outside.

  With a light heart, back in his office he made out the coded message ‘Tuesday’.

  At lunch he brought up the question of inviting Harry round to dinner. Julia welcomed the idea. ‘And we’ll ask Charles and Barbara.’

  ‘No, not them.’

  ‘Why ever not. I think it would be a very good idea.’

  ‘I know it would be a very bad one.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘A hunch I have.’

  ‘But that’s ridiculous. You can’t believe that Barbara and Charles are stodgy as to be shocked at Harry’s getting into that silly muddle.’

  ‘Of course I don’t.’

  ‘Then why not, in heaven’s name? We owe them a great deal of hospitality. I’ve been waiting for a good opportunity to have them over. I think this is it.’

  ‘I know it isn’t.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘One has to trust one’s hunches. The idea of having Harry here is to give the poor devil a good time! Let him relax, have a drink too many if he wants; get all his troubles off his chest. He couldn’t do that with the old man here.’

  ‘Couldn’t he, well …’ she hesitated. Perhaps Basil was right at that; but she was irritated at having her plans interfered with. ‘Then whom would you suggest that we ask to meet the Keables?’

  ‘Need we ask anyone?’

  ‘It’s a little drab isn’t it, just the four of us?’

  ‘I didn’t mean that. I meant need we ask them at all?’

/>   ‘I particularly want to ask them here.’

  ‘It’s the first I’ve heard of it.’

  ‘There always has to be a first time to everything, hasn’t there?’

  ‘You only thought of inviting Charles and Barbara because I thought of having Harry here.’

  ‘That isn’t true.’

  It was true, and because it was, she contradicted him with a greater vigour; what right had he to tell her what she had thought and when and how?

  ‘I’ve been wanting to ask them here for a long time,’ she insisted, ‘and as our time’s so short, we ought to do something right away.’

  ‘And that is precisely why I say we need do nothing.’

  ‘Need you only ask people to your house because you need to, because they can be of use to you?’

  ‘You said you wanted to ask them because we owed them hospitality. Cutlet for cutlet. That’s the same thing, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s not at all.’

  Their voices were raised and they were quarrelling. For a couple of minutes they raged back and forth, and then, as invariably happened in their quarrels, they fell silent simultaneously; then started to make drawing-room conversation, each fuming against the other beneath the surface, waiting to resume their quarrel on a different basis or to break down in a sudden burst of self-recrimination.

  This time no reconciliation came.

  As Basil got up to leave, Julia said, ‘I’ll ring Barbara up this afternoon to fix a day that would suit them both.’

  He stared down at her savagely. She was wearing long tight-fitting pants. He would have given anything to catch her under the arms, jerk her to her feet, bend her across his knees, and spank her, hard, till his hand hurt, then spin her round and kiss her. There was no time for that, but she could not be left with the last word.