Over to You

by Roald Dahl

  The three of them sat happily in the place without a name drinking beer, because beer was the only thing that they served there. It was a long wooden room with an unpolished wooden sawdust floor and wooden tables and chairs. At the far end there was a raised wooden stage where there was a show going on. The room was full of Egyptians, sitting drinking black coffee with the red tarbooshes on their heads. There were two fat girls on the stage dressed in shiny silver pants and silver brassieres. One was waggling her bottom in time to the music. The other was waggling her bosom in time to the music. The bosom waggler was most skilful. She could waggle one bosom without waggling the other and sometimes she would waggle her bottom as well. The Egyptians were spellbound and kept giving her a big hand. The more they clapped the more she waggled and the more she waggled the faster the music played, and the faster the music played, the faster she waggled, faster and faster and faster, never losing the tempo, never losing the fixed brassy smile that was upon her face, and the Egyptians clapped more and more and louder and louder as the speed increased. Everyone was very happy.

  When it was over William said, ‘Why do they always have those dreary fat women? Why don’t they have beautiful women?’

  The Stag said, ‘The Gyppies like them fat. They like them like that’

  ‘Impossible,’ said Stuffy.

  ‘It’s true,’ Stag said. ‘It’s an old business. It comes from the days when there used to be lots of famines here, and all the poor people were thin and all the rich people and the aristocracy were well fed and fat. If you got someone fat you couldn’t go wrong; she was bound to be high-class.’

  ‘Bullshit,’ said Stuffy.

  William said, ‘Well, we’ll soon find out. I’m going to ask those Gyppies.’ He jerked his thumb towards two middle-aged Egyptians who were sitting at the next table, only about four feet away.

  ‘No,’ said Stag. ‘No, William. We don’t want them over here.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Stuffy.

  ‘Yes,’ said William. ‘We’ve got to find out why the Gyppies like fat woman.’

  He was not drunk. None of them was drunk, but they were happy with a fair amount of beer and whisky, and William was the happiest. His brown schoolboy face was radiant with happiness, his turned-up nose seemed to have turned up a little more, and he was probably relaxing for the first time in many weeks. He got up, took three paces over to the table of the Egyptians and stood in front of them, smiling.

  ‘Gentlemen,’ he said, ‘my friends and I would be honoured if you would join us at our table.’

  The Egyptians had dark greasy skins and podgy faces. They were wearing the red hats and one of them had a gold tooth. At first, when William addressed them, they looked a little alarmed. Then they caught on, looked at each other, grinned and nodded.

  ‘Pleess,’ said one.

  ‘Pleess,’ said the other, and they got up, shook hands with William and followed him over to where the Stag and Stuffy were sitting.

  William said, ‘Meet my friends. This is the Stag. This is Stuffy. I am William.’

  The Stag and Stuffy stood up, they all shook hands, the Egyptians said ‘Pleess’ once more and then everyone sat down.

  The Stag knew that their religion forbade them to drink. ‘Have a coffee,’ he said.

  The one with the gold tooth grinned broadly, raised his palms upward and hunched his shoulders a little. ‘For me,’ he said, ‘I am accustomed. But for my frient,’ and he spread out his hands towards the other, ‘for my frient — I cannot speak.’

  The Stag looked at the friend. ‘Coffee?’ he asked.

  ‘Pleess,’ he answered. ‘I am accustomed.’

  ‘Good,’ said Stag. ‘Two coffees.’

  He called a waiter. ‘Two coffees,’ he said. ‘And, wait a minute. Stuffy, William, more beer?’

  ‘For me,’ Stuffy said, ‘I am accustomed. But for my friend,’ and he turned towards William, ‘for my friend — I cannot speak.’

  William said, ‘Please. I am accustomed.’ None of them smiled.

  The Stag said, ‘Good. Waiter, two coffees and three beers.’ The waiter fetched the order and the Stag paid. The Stag lifted his glass towards the Egyptians and said, ‘Bung ho.’

  ‘Bung ho,’ said Stuffy.

  ‘Bung ho,’ said William.

  The Egyptians seemed to understand and they lifted their coffee cups. ‘Pleess,’ said the one. ‘Thank you,’ said the other. They drank.

  The Stag put down his glass and said, ‘It is an honour to be in your country.’

  ‘You like?’

  ‘Yes,’ said the Stag. ‘Very fine.’

  The music had started again and the two fat women in silver tights were doing an encore. The encore was a knockout. It was surely the most remarkable exhibition of muscle control that has ever been witnessed; for although the bottom-waggler was still just waggling her bottom, the bosom-waggler was standing like an oak tree in the centre of the stage with her arms above her head. Her left bosom she was rotating in a clockwise direction and her right bosom in an anticlockwise direction. At the same time she was waggling her bottom and it was all in time to the music. Gradually the music increased its speed, and as it got faster, the rotating and the waggling got faster and some of the Egyptians were so spellbound by the contra-rotating bosoms of the woman that they were unconsciously following the movements of the bosoms with their hands, holding their hands up in front of them and describing circles in the air. Everyone stamped their feet and screamed with delight and the two women on the stage continued to smile their fixed brassy smiles.

  Then it was over. The applause gradually died down.

  ‘Remarkable,’ said the Stag.

  ‘You like?’

  ‘Please, it was remarkable.’

  ‘Those girls,’ said the one with the gold tooth, ‘very special.’

  William couldn’t wait any longer. He leaned across the table and said, ‘Might I ask you a question?’

  ‘Pleess,’ said Golden Tooth. ‘Pleess.’

  ‘Well,’ said William, ‘How do you like your women? Like this — slim?’ and he demonstrated with his hands. ‘Or like this — fat?’

  The gold tooth shone brightly behind a big grin. ‘For me, I like like this, fat,’ and a pair of podgy hands drew a big circle in the air.

  ‘And your friend?’ said William.

  ‘For my frient,’ he answered, ‘I cannot speak.’

  ‘Pleess,’ said the friend. ‘Like this.’ He grinned and drew a fat girl in the air with his hands.

  Stuffy said, ‘Why do you like them fat?’

  Golden Tooth thought for a moment, then he said, ‘You like them slim, eh?’

  ‘Please,’ said Stuffy. ‘I like them slim.’

  ‘Why you like them slim? You tell me.’

  Stuffy rubbed the back of his neck with the palm of his hand. ‘William,’ he said, ‘why do we like them slim?’

  ‘For me,’ said William, ‘I am accustomed.’

  ‘So am I,’ Stuffy said. ‘But why?’

  William considered. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I don’t know why we like them slim.’

  ‘Ha,’ said Golden Tooth, ‘You don’t know.’ He leaned over the table towards William and said triumphantly, ‘And me, I do not know either.’

  But that wasn’t good enough for William. ‘The Stag,’ he said, ‘says that all rich people in Egypt used to be fat and all poor people were thin.’

  ‘No,’ said Golden Tooth, ‘No no no. Look those girls up there. Very fat; very poor. Look queen of Egypt, Queen Farida. Very thin; very rich. Quite wrong.’

  ‘Yes, but what about years ago?’ said William.

  ‘What is this, years ago?’

  William said, ‘Oh all right. Let’s leave it.’

  The Egyptians drank their coffee and made noises like the last bit of water running out of the bathtub. When they had finished, they got up to go.

  ‘Going?’ said the Stag.

  ‘Pleess,’ said Golden Toot
h.

  William said, ‘Thank you.’ Stuffy said, ‘Pleess.’ the other Egyptian said, ‘Pleess’ and the Stag said, ‘Thank you.’ They all shook hands and the Egyptians departed.

  ‘Ropey types,’ said William.

  ‘Very,’ said Stuffy. ‘Very ropey types.’

  The three of them sat on drinking happily until midnight, when the waiter came up and told them that the place was closing and that there were no more drinks. They were still not really drunk because they had been taking it slowly, but they were feeling healthy.

  ‘He says we’ve got to go.’

  ‘All right. Where shall we go? Where shall we go, Stag?’

  ‘I don’t know. Where do you want to go?’

  ‘Let’s go to another place like this,’ said William. ‘This is a fine place.’

  There was a pause. Stuffy was stroking the back of his neck with his hand. ‘Stag,’ he said slowly, ‘I know where I want to go. I want to go to Madame Rosette’s and I want to rescue all the girls there.’

  ‘Who’s Madame Rosette?’ William said.

  ‘She’s a great woman,’ said the Stag.

  ‘She’s a filthy old Syrian Jewess,’ said Stuffy.

  ‘She’s a lousy old bitch,’ said the Stag.

  ‘All right,’ said William. ‘Let’s go. But who is she?’

  They told him who she was. They told him about their telephone calls and about Colonel Higgins, and William said, ‘Come on, let’s go. Let’s go and rescue all the girls.’

  They got up and left. When they went outside, they remembered that they were in a rather remote part of the town.

  ‘We’ll have to walk a bit,’ said Stag. ‘No gharries here.’

  It was a dark starry night with no moon. The street was narrow and blacked-out. It smelled strongly with the smell of Cairo. It was quiet as they walked along, and now and again they passed a man or sometimes two men standing back in the shadow of a house, leaning against the wall of the house, smoking.

  ‘I say,’ said William, ‘ropey, what?’

  ‘Very,’ said Stuffy. ‘Very bad types.’

  They walked on, the three of them walking abreast; square short ginger-haired Stag, tall dark Stuffy, and tall young William who went barehead because he had lost his cap. They headed roughly towards the centre of the town where they knew that they would find a gharry to take them on to Rosette.

  Stuffy said, ‘Oh, won’t the girls be pleased when we rescue them?’

  ‘Jesus,’ said the Stag, ‘it ought to be a party.’

  ‘Does she actually keep them locked up?’ William said.

  ‘Well, no,’ said Stag. ‘Not exactly. But if we rescue them now, they won’t have to work any more tonight anyway. You see, the girls she has at her place are nothing but ordinary shop girls who still work during the day in the shops. They have all of them made some mistake or other which Rosette either engineered or found out about, and now she has put the screws on them; she makes them come along in the evening. But they hate her and they do not depend on her for a living. They would kick her in the teeth if they got the chance.’

  Stuffy said, ‘We’ll give them the chance.’

  They crossed over a street. William said, ‘How many girls will there be there, Stag?’

  ‘I don’t know. I suppose there might be thirty.’

  ‘Good God,’ said William. ‘This will be a party. Does she really treat them very badly?’

  The Stag said, ‘Thirty-three squadron told me that she pays them nothing, about twenty akkers a night. She charges the customers a hundred or two hundred akkers each. Every girl earns for Rosette between five hundred and a thousand akkers every night.’

  ‘Good God,’ said William. ‘A thousand piastres a night and thirty girls. She must be a millionaire.’

  ‘She is. Someone calculated that not even counting her outside business, she makes the equivalent of about fifteen hundred pounds a week. That’s, let me see, that’s between five and six thousand pounds a month. Sixty thousand pounds a year.’

  Stuffy came out of his dream. ‘Jesus,’ he said, ‘Jesus Christ. The filthy old Syrian Jewess.’

  ‘The lousy old bitch,’ said William.

  They were coming into a more civilized section of the town, but still there were no gharries.

  The Stag said, ‘Did you hear about Mary’s House?’

  ‘What’s Mary’s House?’ said William.

  ‘It’s a place in Alexandria. Mary is the Rosette of Alex.’

  ‘Lousy old bitch,’ said William.

  ‘No,’ Stag said. ‘They say she’s a good woman. But anyway, Mary’s House was hit by a bomb last week. The navy was in port at the time and the place was full of sailors, nautic types.’

  ‘Killed?’

  ‘Lots of them killed. And d’you know what happened? They posted them as killed in action.’

  ‘The Admiral is a gentleman,’ said Stuffy.

  ‘Magnificent,’ said William.

  Then they saw a gharry and hailed it.

  Stuffy said, ‘We don’t know the address.’

  ‘He’ll know it,’ said Stag. ‘Madame Rosette,’ he said to the driver.

  The driver grinned and nodded. Then William said, ‘I’m going to drive. Give me the reins, driver, and sit up here beside me and tell me where to go.’

  The driver protested vigorously, but when William gave him ten piastres, he gave him the reins. William sat high up on the driver’s seat with the driver beside him. The Stag and Stuffy got in the back of the carriage.

  ‘Take off,’ said Stuffy. William took off. The horses began to gallop.

  ‘No good,’ shrieked the driver. ‘No good. Stop.’

  ‘Which way Rosette?’ shouted William.

  ‘Stop,’ shrieked the driver.

  William was happy. ‘Rosette,’ he shouted. ‘Which way?’

  The driver made a decision. He decided that the only way to stop this madman was to get him to his destination. ‘This way,’ he shrieked. ‘Left.’ William pulled hard on the left rein and the horses swerved around the corner. The gharry took it on one wheel.

  ‘Too much bank,’ shouted Stuffy from the back seat.

  ‘Which way now?’ shouted William.

  ‘Left,’ shrieked the driver. They took the next street to the left, then they took one to the right, two more to the left, then one to the right again and suddenly the driver yelled, ‘Here pleess, here Rosette. Stop.’

  William pulled hard on the reins and gradually the horses raised their heads with the pulling and slowed down to a trot.

  ‘Where?’ said William.

  ‘Here,’ said the driver. ‘Pleess.’ He pointed to a house twenty yards ahead. William brought the horses to a stop right in front of it.

  ‘Nice work, William,’ said Stuffy.

  ‘Jesus,’ said the Stag. ‘That was quick.’

  ‘Marvellous,’ said William. ‘Wasn’t it?’ He was very happy.

  The driver was sweating through his shirt and he was too frightened to be angry.

  William said, ‘How much?’

  ‘Pleess, twenty piastres.’

  William gave him forty and said, ‘Thank you very much. Fine horses.’ The little man took the money, jumped up on to the gharry, and drove off. He was in a hurry to get away.

  They were in another of those narrow, dark streets, but the houses, what they could see of them, looked huge and prosperous. The one which the driver had said was Rosette’s was wide and thick and three storeys high, built of grey concrete, and it had a large thick front door which stood wide open. As they went in, the Stag said, ‘Now leave this to me. I’ve got a plan.’

  Inside there was a cold grey dusty stone hall, lit by a bare electric light bulb in the ceiling, and there was a man standing in the hall. He was a mountain of a man, a huge Egyptian with a flat face and two cauliflower ears. In his wrestling days he had probably been billed as Abdul the Killer or The Poisonous Pasha, but now he wore a dirty white cotton suit.
/>   The Stag said, ‘Good evening. Is Madame Rosette here?’

  Abdul looked hard at the three pilots, hesitated, then said, ‘Madame Rosette top floor.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Stag. ‘Thank you very much.’ Stuffy noticed that the Stag was being polite. There was always trouble for somebody when he was like that. Back in the squadron, when he was leading a flight, when they sighted the enemy and when there was going to be a battle, the Stag never gave an order without saying ‘Please’ and he never received a message without saying ‘Thank you’. He was saying ‘Thank you’ now to Abdul.

  They went up the bare stone steps which had iron railings. They went past the first landing and the second landing, and the place was as bare as a cave. At the top of the third flight of steps, there was no landing; it was walled off, and the stairs ran up to a door. The Stag pressed the bell. They waited a while, then a little panel in the door slid back and a pair of small black eyes peeked through. A woman’s voice said, ‘What you boys want?’ Both the Stag and Stuffy recognized the voice from the telephone. The Stag said, ‘We would like to see Madame Rosette.’ He pronounced the Madame in the French way because he was being polite.

  ‘You officers? Only officers here,’ said the voice. She had a voice like a broken board.

  ‘Yes,’ said Stag. ‘We are officers.’

  ‘You don’t look like officers. What kind of officers?’

  ‘R.A.F.’

  There was a pause. The Stag knew that she was considering. She had probably had trouble with pilots before, and he hoped only that she would not see William and the light that was dancing in his eyes; for William was still feeling the way he had felt when he drove the gharry. Suddenly the panel closed and the door opened.

  ‘All right, come in,’ she said. She was too greedy, this woman, even to pick her customers carefully.

  They went in and there she was. Short, fat, greasy, with wisps of untidy black hair straggling over her forehead; a large, mud-coloured face, a large wide nose and a small fish mouth, with just the trace of a black moustache above the mouth. She had on a loose black satin dress.