‘Nobody.’ He looked at her again. ‘They rely on our sense of honour. Oh, we’re supposed to leave them open so the CO can read them if wants to, but it would be thought frightfully bad form if he did.’ Prior had slipped into his mock public school voice, very familiar to Rivers.
Sarah took it at face value. ‘You lot make me sick,’ she said, pushing her own plate away. ‘I suppose nobody else’s got a sense of honour?’
He preferred her like this. On the beach, she was only too clearly beginning to think that something had happened that mattered. He wasn’t going to admit that. A few grains of sand in the pubic hair, a mingling of smells. Nothing that a prolonged soak in the tub wouldn’t wash away. ‘Come on,’ he said, putting down a tip. ‘We’d better be getting back.’
13
Burns paced up and down the waiting room. Rivers had told him he intended to recommend an unconditional discharge, and though he hadn’t actually said the Board would accept the recommendation, this had been very strongly implied. So there was nothing to worry about, though when the orderly came and asked him to step inside, his stomach knotted and his hands started to tremble. The Sam Browne belt, bunching the loose fabric round his waist, made him look rather like a scarecrow tied together with string. He got himself into the room somehow, and managed a salute. He couldn’t see their faces to begin with, since they sat with their backs to the tall windows, but after Bryce had told him to sit down, his eyes started to become accustomed to the light.
There was a great deal of light, it seemed to him, floods of silver-grey light filtered through white curtains that stirred in the breeze, and the insistent buzzing of an insect, trapped. He fastened his eyes on Rivers, who managed to smile at him without moving a muscle of his face.
Major Paget, the third, external member of the Board, was obviously startled by Burns’s appearance, but he asked a few questions for form’s sake. Rivers scarcely listened either to the questions or to the answers. The buzzing continued. He scanned the high windows, trying to locate the insect. The noise was unreasonably disturbing.
Paget said, ‘How often do you vomit now?’
Rivers got up and went across to the window. He found a bumble bee, between the curtain and the window, batting itself against the glass, fetched a file from the desk and, using it as a barrier, guided the insect into the open air. He watched it fly away. Directly below him, Anderson and Sassoon were setting off for their daily round of golf. Their voices drifted up to him. Rivers turned back into the room to find everybody, Burns included, staring at him in some surprise. He smiled faintly and went back to his seat.
‘This is getting to be a habit, isn’t it?’
Prior, hands twined round the iron bars of the bedhead, smiled without opening his eyes. ‘Not one I enjoy.’
He hadn’t regained the weight he’d lost during his last stay in sick bay. The ribs showed clearly through the stretched skin. ‘You were lucky to get back. When did it start?’
‘On the train. It was jam-packed. Everybody smoking.’
‘Lucky the young woman with you kept her head.’
‘Poor Sarah. I don’t think she’s ever had anybody pass out on her before.’
‘You realize you won’t have the sick bay to yourself this time?’ Rivers indicated the other bed. ‘Mr Willard.’
‘The legless wonder. Yes, we’ve met.’
‘Don’t you have any sympathy for anybody else?’
‘Are you suggesting I have any for myself?’ He watched Rivers fold the stethoscope. ‘You know what you were saying about the greater mental complexity of officers? How long do you think it’ll take you to convince that particular specimen of complexity that it hasn’t actually got a broken spine?’
‘How’s your voice, Mr Prior?’
Prior took a moment to register the direct hit. ‘Fine. Problem over, I think. I miss it. I used to enjoy my little Trappist times.’
‘Oh, I can believe that. I’ve often thought how nice it would be to retreat into total silence now and again.’
‘What do you mean “how nice it would be”? You do it all the time.’
‘I’ve arranged for a consultant to come and see you. A Dr Eaglesham. He’ll be in some time this week.’
‘Why?’
‘I need a measurement of your vital capacity.’
‘Demonstrations twice nightly.’
‘The other vital capacity. Try to get some rest now. Sister Duffy tells me you had a bad night.’
Rivers had got to the door before Prior called him back. ‘Why do you need it?’
‘This is the second time this has happened in six weeks. I don’t think we can let you go in front of a Medical Board without drawing their attention to your physical condition.’
‘If you’re thinking of wangling permanent home service, I don’t want it.’
‘I’m not thinking of “wangling” anything.’ Rivers looked down at Prior and his expression softened. ‘Look, if this is what happens when you’re exposed to cigarette smoke on a train, how would you cope with gas?’
‘Well, obviously, I’m affected at lower concentrations than anybody else. But then so what? I can be the battalion canary.’ A pause. ‘I’m not the only one with asthma.’
‘No, I’m sure you’re not. I’m told there are cases of active TB in the trenches. It doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.’
‘I want to go back.’
A long silence.
‘You can’t talk to anybody here,’ Prior said. ‘Everybody’s either lost somebody, or knows somebody who has. They don’t want the truth. It’s like letters of condolence. “Dear Mrs Bloggs, Your son had the side of his head blown off by a shell and took five hours to die. We did manage to give him a decent Christian burial. Unfortunately that particular stretch of ground came under heavy bombardment the day after, so George has been back to see us five or six times since then.” They don’t want that. They want to be told that George — or Johnny — or whatever his name was, died a quick death and was given a decent send off.’ He said deliberately, ‘Yesterday, at the seaside, I felt as if I came from another planet.’
‘You can talk to people here.’
‘It’s the last thing this lot want to talk about. The point is, I’m better.’
‘That’s for the Board to decide.’
‘You mean, you.’
‘No-o. The Board. How are the nights? I mean apart from the asthma?I know last night was bad.’
‘I just refuse to play this game. I haven’t enough breath to answer questions you already know the answers to.’
‘What’s your subjective estimate of your nights?’
‘Better.’
‘Good. That was Sister Duffy’s impression too.’
‘Oh well, then…’ Prior glowered. ‘There’s another reason I want to go back. Rather a nasty, selfish little reason, but since you clearly think I’m a nasty selfish little person that won’t come as a surprise. When all this is over, people who didn’t go to France, or didn’t do well in France — people of my generation, I mean — aren’t going to count for anything. This is the Club to end all Clubs.’
‘And you want to belong.’
‘Yes.’
‘You already do.’
‘I broke down.’
‘And that’s why you want to go back? You’re ambitious, aren’t you?’
Prior didn’t answer.
‘No reason why you shouldn’t be. What do you want to do?’