Complete Works of Nevil Shute

by Nevil Shute

  He was not. In the corridor, on their way down to the installation in the basement, they met Miss MacMahon. She nodded to the surgeon, glanced at Warren, stopped, and stared hard at him.

  Warren smiled. ‘I’m afraid so,’ he said.

  She said, ‘You are Warren, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I’m Warren.’

  She smiled. ‘Have you come back to pay me your seven pounds?’

  The surgeon smiled. ‘You’ll have to strike that off your books. Mr Warren has already paid that — to me. I dealt with it at the last committee.’

  ‘Oh. Is he the patient who paid a hundred and fifty guineas?’

  The surgeon nodded.

  She thought for a minute, and then turned to Warren. ‘I suppose you put in the wireless, too. Or was that some other tramp?’

  ‘I’m afraid that was me. But it was supposed to be anonymous.’

  ‘That’s all very well,’ said Miss MacMahon. ‘But we’ve got the books to keep straight, Mr Williams and I. Somebody’s got to know who gives anonymous gifts, or you couldn’t cash any cheques. As it is, I don’t know what I shall say to Mr Williams about that seven pounds. You see, it’s entered in the ledger. I suppose I shall have to tell him that I can’t collect it from you, and he’s got to write it off as a bad debt. I’ll probably get the sack over it.’

  ‘I’d better pay up.’

  ‘That wouldn’t be fair. You’d better let me tell Mr Williams. You see, it’s not so easy to hide your light under a bushel.’

  He smiled. ‘I ought to have stayed in London.’

  ‘That wouldn’t have done you any good. I was going to get after you for it next week — you remember you left an address.’ She paused. ‘I suppose I should have found that you were head of the firm, or something.’

  ‘I suppose you would.’

  ‘Why did you say you were out of a job?’

  ‘I didn’t say it first — somebody told me that was what I was — one of the nurses. I thought it was easier to carry on that way.’

  She sighed a little. ‘I suppose it was a natural mistake. We don’t get many of the other sort here these days.’

  He nodded slowly. ‘I suppose things are still very bad. There’s been no improvement?’

  She shook her head.

  The surgeon said, ‘Things are getting terrible, Mr Warren. In the last few months — the place seems to have changed. It’s as if the disease had become chronic.’

  The Almoner broke in, ‘I’ve noticed that, too, Dr Miller. Last spring, things seemed to pick up a bit. People seemed more cheerful, and the out-patients went down quite a lot. I could show you in the records. But this year it’s just flat — the same all the time. The people aren’t so ... so buoyant as they were last year.’

  Warren said nothing.

  They went down to inspect the apparatus, and then walked through the hospital. In practically every bed the patient was wearing headphones; there was a better atmosphere about the place than Warren had remembered. ‘It’s made a difference,’ said the surgeon. ‘There’s no doubt about it. And the beauty of it is, it’s always new. Hardly any of them have it in their homes. So when they come in here, it gives them something fresh to think about.’

  Warren said nothing.

  They went back to the entrance hall; Warren turned to the Almoner. ‘I’m staying here tonight,’ he said, ‘with Dr Miller. There are one or two things I’d like to see this afternoon, before I go back. Would you take me down to the shipyard again?’

  ‘Why — certainly, Mr Warren. I’m free.’

  He smiled. ‘That’s terribly good of you. I’ll call round for you here at about half-past two.’

  He met her at the hospital, and they walked down through the town together. It was a bright, sunny afternoon with a fresh wind; the wind blew through the bare grey streets with all the freshness of the moors behind the town, untainted by the smoke of industry. A few men stood about at street corners and eyed them curiously as they passed; one or two women sat on doorsteps in the sun in sheltered corners. It surprised Warren that in spite of the fine day there were so few people to be seen about, and he said so.

  ‘The wind’s quite sharp,’ said the Almoner, ‘and they’ve got very little resistance to cold. They mostly stay indoors on days like this.’

  Warren’s heart sank. He might perhaps get orders for a ship or two, but could these people ever build them?

  They passed the old watchman with a word, and went into the Yard. To all appearances it was as it had been before, the buildings and the wharves deserted and a little fresh grass growing on the slips. The wind sighed through the derricks and the gantries overhead. Again Warren got the impression that there was not much wrong with the place; so far as he could see, nothing had been removed before the sale.

  ‘Well, here we are,’ said the girl. ‘What did you want to see?’

  Warren laughed. ‘Just that it was all still here,’ he said. ‘I don’t see much altered since I was here before.’

  She smiled, a little bitterly. ‘You needn’t be afraid of that. You’ll see it just the same if you come here next year, or the year after that. Only some of the derricks may have fallen down by then.’

  He eyed her for a moment. ‘You’ve lived in Sharples all your life, have you?’

  ‘Most of it. I went away to school, of course. And then I went to Durham University. But my home was always here.’ She turned to him. ‘You see, I knew it all as it used to be, when you couldn’t hear yourself speak standing here, because of the riveters. And then, there was a launch every couple of months or so, with the flags and cheering, and champagne, and everything. And we always used to look at the shipping news in The Times, to see where our ships had got to.... It makes one feel bad to see it all just rotting away like this.’

  He asked, ‘What did you read at Durham?’

  ‘Law,’ she said unexpectedly. ‘But I never practised.’

  He rested one foot upon a baulk of timber, and leaned forward on the knee. ‘You ought to get away from here,’ he said. ‘It’s not good for you, or anyone, to spend their life in a dead place like this.’

  She nodded. ‘That’s one way of looking at it, I know.’

  ‘What is the other?’

  She raised her head and looked him in the eyes. ‘I had a fine time here when I was young,’ she said simply. ‘From the earliest I can remember, up to the time when I was twenty-five, when the depression came. All those years — I was terribly happy. I knew everybody here, and they were kind, and decent — and it was all so interesting. It’s different now, of course, but you’ve got to take the rough with the smooth.

  ‘I don’t say that I’m going to stay here all my life,’ she said. ‘But I wouldn’t want to go away from here till things get right again.’

  They moved slowly through the yard, between the heaps of rusty scrap and stinging-nettles, under the towering gantries. A few white-faced children were playing listlessly upon a heap of rotting plate.

  ‘Not a very good place for them to play,’ he said. ‘They’d get a nasty cut if they fell down on that stuff.’

  ‘They do from time to time. Then we get them up as out-patients — after it’s had time to get nicely septic.’

  ‘Can’t the watchman keep them out?’

  She shook her head. ‘There are holes all along the fence where they get in.’ She pointed. ‘There.’

  He nodded. ‘I’ll have that seen to.’

  She turned and stared at him. ‘What do you mean — you’ll have it seen to?’

  ‘I own this yard,’ he said. ‘I bought it three weeks ago.’

  There was a long silence. The gantries overhead rattled and groaned a little; somewhere a sheet of corrugated iron was flapping in the wind.

  ‘That’s a change, anyway,’ she said at last. ‘I sometimes thought that nothing would ever happen here again.’ She stared at him curiously. ‘Who are you, Mr Warren? What do you do?’

  ‘I’m a banker. If you wa
nted to be rude, you might say that we’re an issuing house.’

  She wrinkled her brows. ‘Does that mean that you start companies?’

  He hesitated. ‘Sometimes we do that.’

  ‘Are you going to start one here?’

  He eyed her for a minute. ‘If you were in my shoes, would you go and tell a lot of shareholders that you could make money by building ships here?’

  She hesitated. ‘I — I don’t know.’

  ‘Nor do I,’ he said grimly.

  ‘I see it’s difficult,’ she said. ‘But what are you going to do with it, now that you’ve bought it?’

  He shook his head. ‘I don’t know that I really know myself. I bought it because I was afraid that the National Shipbuilders Security would get hold of it, and close it down for ever. But ...’

  He stared around. ‘I don’t know what to do with it. I’m just hoping something may turn up.’

  ‘It would put fresh life into the town if they knew there was some chance of work again,’ she said. ‘May it be talked about?’

  He shook his head. ‘I’d rather not, if you don’t mind. It may be that I shan’t be able to do anything at all. In that case I should sell it again — if I could. And that would be a disappointment to them.’

  She nodded. ‘All right. I won’t say anything.’

  They turned and walked towards the gate. ‘If there is anything that I can do to help this thing,’ she said, ‘I hope you’ll let me know.’ She smiled a little ruefully. ‘Not that I’d be much help to you in starting companies.’

  He said, ‘You might let me know from time to time how things go on down here. Old Robbins, at the gate, he ought to be getting his money regularly every week in the same way that he always has. Let me know if there should be any hitch there.’

  She nodded.

  ‘There’s another thing. You used to know all the heads of the departments in this Yard?’

  She nodded. ‘Daddy knew everyone, and they all used to come to our house. And we’d go to theirs.’

  ‘Some day,’ he said, ‘we may want a General Manager. It ought to be someone who knows the place, and the men. And he must be young — not more than forty. And he must be working in shipbuilding now. He’d have to be cheerful and tactful, because he’d have the hell of a job ahead of him if we got this thing started up again. But we’d pay him well.’

  She said, ‘I’d like to think that over, Mr Warren. I know the sort of man you mean. I’ll write to you if I can think of anyone.’

  They walked up to the hospital. At the gates she turned towards him as they said goodbye.

  ‘Mr Warren,’ she said. ‘You’re serious about this? You’re really trying to start something here again — after all these years?’

  He met her eyes. ‘I’m serious enough,’ he said. ‘If I could get this yard cracking again I’d be a very happy man. But whether I can do it — that’s another matter.’

  ‘It’s good to hear that much,’ she said quietly. ‘The only thing that I can do is wish you all the luck in the world.’

  He changed his plans, and went back to London on a sleeper train. Next day was Sunday; he spent it going through the papers relating to the Laevatian Oil Development that Morgan had prepared for him. At the end of five hours’ work he had developed and increased his first suspicion that the thing was basically unsound.

  It was, however, the one thing he had in sight that held out any prospect of orders for ships.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  A MONTH LATER Warren arrived in Visgrad from Berlin by air, and went to the Hotel des Nations. The hall porter, with encyclopaedic memory, greeted him as an old friend.

  He had met the Laevatian Commission in London in conference, not once, but four times. He had stated his terms courteously, but firmly, from the first. Three oil tankers, of ten thousand tons each, were to be built in England by a concern that he would nominate at a later stage. On that basis he would proceed to use his best endeavours to promote their issue on the London market.

  They were grieved, and went away. They came back in a few days, and went away again; Warren sat quiet, and watched them go from house to house with their proposal. In that time of depression he had little fear that anyone would entertain it for a moment, without some powerful outside motive.

  After the third meeting he lunched again with Colonel Mavrogadato. ‘I think it is very difficult, this business,’ said the colonel. ‘It is M. Theopoulos. They are all afraid of what M. Theopoulos may say. M. Theopoulos will say that the ships must be built in Germany.’

  He paused. ‘M. Theopoulos has had great kindness from many German firms, on many occasions,’ he said confidentially. ‘He was a poor man, as I am myself, when first he came to office. Now he is very wealthy, but — you understand — he does not make a display of his wealth. It is natural that he would not wish to disappoint his friends in Germany.’

  Warren nodded slowly. He knew the Balkans. ‘M. Theopoulos will not be disappointed with our business,’ he said. ‘You understand — one would not wish to talk of money with a man so highly placed. Has he no friend on the Commission with whom we could discuss the matter, and who could put it to him in the proper light?’

  There was generally an agent in the background somewhere, to negotiate the bribe.

  The colonel slammed his hands down on the table. ‘It is three times — no, four times — unfortunate,’ he exclaimed. ‘M. Hassanein, it was arranged, should be of the Commission. He is married to the divorced wife of the brother of the wife to Mr Theopoulos. But he fell ill, and was unable to accompany the Commission.’

  ‘That is indeed unfortunate,’ said Warren gravely.

  Three days later he met the Commission again.

  ‘It appears to me,’ he said, ‘that a matter of such importance to your country can hardly be negotiated except in Visgrad, where it will be possible for you to consult with your Government at every stage. If the proposals of my group are such as to justify your further consideration, I would suggest that you invite me to wait upon you in Visgrad, to take the matter farther.’

  They glanced at each other.

  Mr Potiscu, the chairman, said, ‘That we had intended to suggest. It will, perhaps, be better that you should meet with M. Theopoulos, and with M. Deleben, the Prime Minister. In that event, the Commission would return to Visgrad, via Paris, on Friday of the week after next.’

  ‘I would not ask the Commission to wait so long on my account,’ said Warren, a little tactlessly. ‘I am completely at your disposal.’

  Mr Potiscu looked a little pained. ‘There is a race of horses,’ he explained. ‘Your Grand National ...’

  Warren smiled. ‘I should have thought of that,’ he said. ‘It would give me infinite pleasure if the Commission would regard themselves as my guests for that day.’

  He was forced to submit to the delay. He was able, however, to ensure that they did not tarry in Paris on the way home by presenting them with through tickets to Visgrad at fifty per cent discount, sending each member home happy with a few pounds extra gleaned from the expense account.

  A few days later he followed them to Visgrad.

  He knew the city well. It lay in a bowl of the hills, snow-capped to the south; the river ran beside it. It sprawled in Eastern fashion, indeterminately; a litter of mud houses set upon bare earth, whitewashed and dazzling in the sun, flat-roofed. Olives clothed the surrounding hills with a grey sheen; in the city itself palm trees and oleanders lined the principal roads.

  All this could be seen before you landed at the aerodrome. You stepped from the machine, and the interminable formalities of entrance to Laevatia began. Dirty, unshaven soldiery in buttonless uniforms laid loaded rifles on the table with alarming insouciance, while they pawed your passport in a pretence at reading. Illiterate clerks asked interminable questions about the religion and habits of your grandparents; it was better to provide an answer, right or wrong. Fingerprints were taken, for the greater security of Laevatia against its e
nemies. And finally, a grudging permit was given to depart on the dusty seven mile drive into the city.

  The road wound from the aerodrome through olive woods, and an occasional village. Ox-carts impeded the way, yoked picturesquely to low, high-wheeled carts, in the villages the veiled women and the mosques added to the Eastern atmosphere; usually a very new church stood unused on the outskirts. In the country districts Laevatia was principally Mohammedan.

  On the morning following his arrival, Warren visited the British Embassy. He left cards on the Minister and had a short talk with the Counsellor. Then he found himself in the office of the Commercial Secretary, a high, sunny room, with a window wide open on a garden full of lilac in bloom. Mr Pennington received him cordially, and gave him a cigarette.

  ‘We’ve heard a lot about you, Mr Warren,’ he said. ‘From the Foreign Office, of course — but also here. Yes. When the Commission came back last week and old Potiscu reported, they had something like a free fight in the Cabinet over your visit. The Prime Minister was non-committal; he really prefers to do business with us. But Theopoulos went straight up in the air, of course. He made a speech in the Assembly about you — I’ll let you have a copy, translated, this afternoon. The gist of it was that your proposals were an insult to a friendly nation — meaning Germany, of course.’

  He paused. ‘Two representatives of the Hamburger Metallgesellschaft’ arrived here the day before yesterday — Herren Braum and Linersoppe. They’re staying at your hotel.’

  Warren asked, ‘What sort of a following has Theopoulos in the Assembly?’

  ‘Not so strong — perhaps twenty per cent. But if things got too difficult it might create a split: in that case Theopoulos would leave the present Government — the People’s Party — and go to the Social Reform Party. They’ll very likely be the next Government.’

  ‘When will that be?’

  Mr Pennington shrugged his shoulders. ‘We haven’t had a change of Government for some time. Perhaps next month — perhaps not for three years.’ He considered for a moment. ‘Of course, your business might cause enough stir to change the Government, in itself.’