But in between these goings away I would accompany him on long walks. Sometimes we’d go to a gymnasium or a swimming bath because he insisted on us keeping fit. As a result of this I became slightly leaner, firmer in the muscles. He also told me to use less stodge, and whenever possible we ate thick steaks and drank red wine. This treatment suited me fine, but I knew it couldn’t all be free, and wanted to know the reason for it, though I realized that nothing would be told me, till William was good and ready, so I didn’t lose face by asking questions which would not be answered. That also was part of the training.
In his looser moments William hinted that I would become wealthy enough if I was taken on, that my standard of life would leap should I succeed in the first three trips. The only difficulty was to get me taken on, but this might not be impossible providing his own recommendations were firmly given. Fortunately, I was tall enough, and had a good face and figure for the work, which, with a bit of coaching and, later, actual training, would be quite acceptable. He himself had been so successful in the first months of initial forays that if he put up a candidate they would most likely listen to him. The fact was, also, that beginners were always in great demand, not because they fell by the wayside (though some did, of course), but because of that perpetual and reliable quality known as beginner’s luck.
After one successful trip a beginner was in most cases no longer used, and he had to be content with the first handsome hand-out, and then retire to the life from which he had come. The man in the iron lung, as he lay and looked at them, was such an expert reader of faces (and handwriting, because on every occasion he would get them to copy five lines and then judge them by it), that he could tell not only whether a man had presence, courage, and nerve for the job but, above all, whether he was lucky. Like Napoleon with his generals he had to know if the candidates for smuggling gold out of the country had a built-in streak of luck that would last them for more than one trip. William, much to his own surprise, had passed this test, and now seemed to be on the permanent staff of the organization, which gave him the confidence to assume that he could get me into it for one trip at least which, if all went well, would net me two or even three hundred pounds on my return.
As soon as these definite terms and possibilities were mentioned I began to feel the stony cravings of ambition harden in my stomach. Some would call it foolish greed and they’d be wrong, because I not only wanted money but also the experience and prestige that would go with it. I saw it as a way of breaking out of a fixed imprisoning period of my life, and though there was some risk (that William played down) I was anxious to get taken on and go through with it. When I was in town, or sitting alone in William’s flat listening to the foreign records he’d brought back from his expeditions, I got the black sweats because I wondered whether I’d have the backbone to succeed in something like this. I put it to William, but he laughed and said he’d gone through exactly the same doubts, and what’s more it was good to have them because you were no good if you didn’t. Those who didn’t feel this never got through the training. They didn’t even begin it because the man in the iron lung had only to see their handwriting to know that they were too brittle to have doubts about themselves, in which case he wouldn’t waste time and effort training them. Of course, William said, he didn’t want to push me too hard in this because, after all, I had to make up my own mind. I might be thrown out on first appearance as being totally unsuitable, but he didn’t think so, and in any case the decision to make this first appearance before the man in the iron lung had to be taken finally by me and me alone.
The cunning bastard knew that by this time I was too intrigued to draw back, but I still had my doubts about how suitable I was because, as I’d always known, there’s a certain idleness in me, an inability to think to the end of everything that starts for no other reason than that I can’t be bothered. I think: what’s the point? and the flashlight of a bright idea soon gets lost in the fog.
I started to grow a moustache, because William said it would improve my appearance, and thus my chances of being accepted. Fortunately, I looked at least twenty-five, which was also good, because no one looking too much like a youth would ever be used. I never of course imagined this might be some kind of game or trick on his part because I had the evidence of his rise to affluence before me, and I thought that if I could get on to the same railroad, then all well and good. He wondered whether I ought to start smoking a pipe, because that always creates a good impression, he said, especially if it’s full but unlit when you’re on the way through and they sense the opportunity to do a small kindness in the midst of their restrictive work by asking few questions so that you can get quickly to the other side and then light up. I gave it a try, but even with the weakest tobacco I almost vomited after every puff. It wasn’t the strength of the weed so much as the way it hit the back of the mouth and ricocheted down the throat as soon as it came in. So he told me to go on smoking Whiffs, but that while filing through the customs, it might be better to smoke nothing at all.
Life was dull during these weeks, but I didn’t mind that, because I found it interesting — as it were. In my idleness I sensed that my appearance was changing to the world, while my attitudes to the world weren’t altering at all. The world saw a different man, while I saw the same world, though at the same time I saw the world seeing a different man. That made me feel good, because I became bigger to myself. Thinking I was short on cash William bought me a best-quality electric shaver for eleven pounds. ‘Pay me from your first lump sum,’ he said, as we came out of the shop.
‘What if I never get it?’ — not so stone-sure as he was.
‘In that case, you’ve got something for nothing. But from now on get used to having it with you, so’s you can shave at least twice a day. Treat it as a natural extension of your graballing hand.’
‘Shall I get a bowler hat as well?’
‘They’d tumble to you in a flash. For a face like yours you’ll need a hat like mine. We’ll go up Regent Street and buy one now. Then you can wear it every time you go out.’
The grooming was on in earnest, because on our way to the hatters I was steered into Simpsons for a haircut. Cunning old William had phoned from the flat and made an appointment, so that we went through the doors dead on time in spite of what seemed like casual and aimless progress there. He told the barber exactly what to do, how my hair should be short on top and someway down the neck at the back, with longish sideburns. I protested, but he told me to shut up, and I was on my way to his throat when the scissors scraped along the inside of my ear and the barber screamed and jumped back, thinking I was about to go berserk. ‘Get on with it then,’ I shouted. ‘Only do it quick or I’ll cut my own throat without waiting for you to do it.’
They were glad to see the back of us, though not of William, because he left a ten-bob note for a tip. ‘You’re more trouble than a bloody baby,’ he said, and, after we’d been to the hat-shop, ‘Now who’s that coming towards yourself in that mirror over there?’
‘Where?’ I said. ‘Where?’ — looking straight into it, at this smart young fellow I didn’t for a moment recognize. I tipped my hat to him, and wondered what the hell would happen next.