A smiling waiter bowed beside the table. ‘Sair?’
Lindsay stared at the proffered menu, realising for the first time that he had been drinking heavily since noon. Since he had seen Goss. But the drink did not seem to have had any real effect, other than to make the thought of food impossible.
‘Perhaps the commander would wish to order later?’
He looked up at the second figure who had appeared. Either the newcomer was cat-footed or Lindsay was more drunk than he imagined. It seemed impossible he could have missed seeing such a man.. He was gross, his huge body impeccably covered in a cream linen suit, his girth encircled by a crimson sash to match a small fez which appeared minute on his round head. A chair groaned loudly as the man sank into it.
‘A drink first, maybe?’ He snapped his fingers. ‘I have some gin.’
Lindsay eyed him dully. He wanted to leave right now. He did not wish to talk. There was nothing to say.
The man announced calmly, ‘I am the owner.’ He waved a plump hand, several rings glinting in the coloured lanterns overhead. ‘And bid you welcome.’.
The waiter was pouring out two glasses of neat gin. On the bottle he saw the words. Duty Free. H.M.Ships only.
‘Thanks.’ He took a glass, wonderingwhat it would do to his stomach.
The owner sipped at the gin and smiled. ‘My religion regards gin as an evil However.’ He took another sip. ‘One must adapt to the country’s ways, eh?’ He watched Lindsay unblinkingly. He had very dark, liquid eyes, like those of a younger man encased in a grotesque mask.
He continued in the same gentle tone, ‘I am Turkish. Once, although some may find it difficult to accept, I was in the Grand Cavalry. A Captain of Horse.’ He chuckled, the sound rising from a great depth. ‘Now it would take more than one beast to carry me, you are thinking?’
Lindsay smiled. ‘I am sorry.. I am bad company.’
‘Only loneliness is bad, Commander.’ He signalled to the waiter.‘I fought your people on the Dardanelles in that other war. I learned to respect their courage, even though their leadership was less inspiring. So when I had to flee my own country! decided to come here. Halfway between two ways of life. East and West. I will be happy to end my life here.’
Lindsay felt the gin scraping.his throat like fire. ‘I really
must go.’ He tried to smile. ‘As I said, I am bad company.’ The man shook his head. ‘Not yet. It is not time.’ ‘Time?’
The man smiled gently. ‘Do not play with fate, Commander. You will have one more glass, and then, perhaps, it will be time.’
Lindsay stared at him. He must have misheard or had finally taken leave of his senses. He looked quickly around the room but it was quite empty. The two planters had vanished..
The man said quietly, ‘It is all right, Commander. They were there. They have gone up’ to their rooms for an arrangement with some women.’ He wrinkled his nose disdainfully. ‘They drink a lot first and then their women begin to appear beautiful again!’ It seemed to amuse him greatly.
Lindsay sighed and raised the glass to his lips. What would they be doing aboard the ship? Some might be celebrating their forthcoming promotions and appointments. Others would be ashore, making the most of the last few days in Ceylon. Back in England it would be cold and grey. Air-raids and ration queues. Tired faces and pathetic bravery. The memories of Ceylon would become precious to many of Benbecula’s company in the months or years ahead.
The massive Turk snapped his fingers and as if by magic the gin bottle disappeared.
‘I must go to the temple and make amends, Commander.’ He stood up and took a deep breath. ‘I have enjoyed our little talk.’ He held out one fat hand. ‘Maybe you will come again. But I think not.’
Lindsay groped for his cap, thinking he should offer to pay for the drinks but knowing also that the man would resent it.
He heard him add quietly, ‘Now, you may leave. Somehow, I feel that your hurt will be easier to carry.’
Lindsay thanked him and walked out into the purple gloom, his mind still dazed by the unexpected encounter. Perhaps the man was crazy. Why the hotel was so deserted.
He lurched against a shuttered shop front and gasped. But the gin was real enough.
At the end of the street he saw bright lights and the hurrying criss-cross of crowds. Perhaps he might find a taxi. He could not face fighting his way back to the base through those same cheerful throngs of people.
But there was no taxi available, so with tired determination he increased his pace, shutting his ears to the din of voices and music, car horns and rickshaw wheels, while he tried to concentrate on the gross Turk who had once been a Captain of Horse at the Dardanelles.
‘Hey, mate, got a light?’
He stopped to face two Australian soldiers who were clinging to each other for support. He took out his matches and waited while one of them made several attempts to light their cigarettes. Their voices reminded him of Stannard.
The first soldier squinted at Lindsay’s shoulder straps. Tommy sailor, eh?’ He grinned. ‘But never mind, mate. You got me an’ my cobber out of Singapore.’ He laughed as if it were one huge joke. ‘Leastways, somebody did!’ They staggered away, their bush hats strangely alien against the coloured lanterns and bazaars.
He took out his pipe and then realised the soldiers had left without returning the matches. He was still patting his pockets when a taxi scraped against one of the nearby stalls and sent a mountain of fruit cascading under the wheels. A crowd gathered in seconds, prepared to be freely amused by the fierce exchange between driver and merchant. He tried to free himself from the growing crush but it was impossible. Above those around him he saw two impassive faced policemen forcing their way through the crowd towards the taxi which was now completely hemmed in by spectators.
He saw a dark doorway and’decided to make for it. The police would take several minutes to clear the crowd. He might even find some matches. Two white figures were already in the doorway, probably with the same idea as himself. An eddy of figures pressed against him and he felt himself being pushed slowly towards another shopfront. He gave up. It was hopeless, and he’was feeling worse. Sick.
Yet even through the excited babble of shouts and jeers he seemed to hear a voice. It was like part of a dream. A nerve laid bare in his memory.
‘Commander! Commander Lindsay!’
All at once he was fighting his way back through the crowd, pushing with all his strength even though he knew it was just one more crack in his reserve.
A policeman grabbed at his arm, yelling at him, but he knocked him aside, his ears deaf to the roar of voices, his eyes blind to everything but the doorway and the two figures in white.
Against the darkness they seemed to hover like ghosts, and in those last desperate moments he imagined he had at last gone mad.
Gasping with exertion and almost sobbing he burst from the crowd and threw himself into the opening. Then he stood quite still. Afraid to blink or breathe, even though it was just one more dream.
She said, ‘I knew it was you!’
Very slowly he reached out and put his hands on her shoulders. Eve.‘He felt her shiver under his grip. ‘Eve. I thought…..’
She was still staring up at him, her face almost hidden in shadow. The other Wren had moved away and stood uncertainly by the shopfront. Then he pulled her to him. Holding her tightly as he murmured, ‘Oh Eve. All this time.’
She said quietly, ‘You’re not well.’ To the other girl, ‘Tell that policeman to get us a taxi.’ Then she pressed her face into his chest and whispered, ‘It’s a miracle. We were trying to get back to the base. Then this crowd, and I saw you. I had no idea you were here.’ She trembled. ‘I still can’t believe it.’ Then she looked up at him again, her eyes very large in her face. ‘You didn’t get my letter then?’