‘Dear me!’ Inchcape, his manner changing again, now began to ridicule his friend: ‘Aren’t we in danger everywhere these days? Weren’t you in danger in England? Very real danger, I may say. Aren’t they likely to be invaded any day? Here we have only a war of nerves. Personally, I think things will right themselves. The young King and his mother are very popular. They went out yesterday and bought cakes at Capşa’s. Yes, actually went out on foot, just like our own royal family! There can’t be much wrong in a country where that happens.’
Pinkrose looked somewhat appeased. ‘Nevertheless,’ he said, ‘I was misinformed. When you wrote in the spring, you described magnificent food, a feudal atmosphere, an ancient aristocracy, opulent parties, every comfort – a return, in short, to the good old days. And what do I find, after travelling all this way mostly in a bomb-bay? No meat on the menu. And what, may I ask, has happened to the wit and beauty of Bucharest? Your reception seems sadly ill-attended?’
Inchcape opened his mouth to reply, then paused. Harriet observed him with interest, never having seen him at a loss before. He answered at last: ‘The English are out of favour at the moment. I believe there’s a reception at the Athéneé Palace for the German officers. I fear our Rumanian guests have all gone to entertain our enemies.’
‘Ah!’ said Pinkrose. Mollified by the humility of Inchcape’s confession, he said nothing more.
Woolley, who had stood apart from this exchange, sunk into his own disgruntlement, said suddenly: ‘I must be off,’ and slapping down his glass, he went without another word.
Clarence tittered. He had been drinking steadily and the effect of it was now evident. ‘I hear,’ he said, ‘that since his wife’s departure, Woolley’s found a little Rumanian friend.’ Holding out his glass at arm’s length, he shouted: ‘Hey, Pauli, a refill.’ Pauli crossed to him, grinning, English drunkenness being a stock joke in Bucharest.
Pinkrose, who had also been drinking, took Inchcape aside and whispered to him.
‘This way,’ said Inchcape briskly. He led Pinkrose from the room and a moment later, darting back alone, he addressed Guy, Harriet and Clarence with an exploding air of conspiracy: ‘Look here! Things being as they are, we’ll never get the old buffer an audience. The thing is, to prepare him. You’ll have to give a hand. Begin intimating that this is neither the time nor the place for a public lecture in English. Suggest he might be molested. Get him scared so he’ll tell me he doesn’t want to lecture. Understand? But do it tactfully …’ Inchcape came to an abrupt pause as he heard steps returning. Pinkrose entered.
‘Well, now,’ Inchcape said pleasantly, ‘plans for our future delectation. What about this week-end? I’m afraid I’m off to Sinai: I booked my room weeks ago. I have to have a day off before the weather breaks. But I’m sure our young friends here …!’ He smiled invitingly on Guy, Harriet and Clarence. ‘What are you all up to?’
Guy responded as was expected of him. ‘We are going to Predeal,’ he said. ‘Perhaps Professor Pinkrose would care to come with us …’ He glanced at Harriet for her co-operation.
She said firmly: ‘I am quite sure Professor Pinkrose would rather go to Sinai with Professor Inchcape.’
Frowning and stirring his foot on the carpet, Inchcape said: ‘Why not? Why not?’
Clarence, lolling so low in his chair that his buttocks were over the edge, drawled: ‘I’m going away, too.’
Everyone looked at him. ‘Right away,’ he said. ‘You hear that, Inch, you old ostrich? I’m going right away, away from your bloody organisation. Away from what you call your sphere of influence. To warmer, more colourful climes. And you can’t do a thing about it!’
Inchcape paused, realising he was being told something. He said: ‘What did you say?’ Clarence repeated most of what he had said.
Inchcape exploded: ‘You’re leaving us? At a time like this! And without warning!’
Calrence shuffled lower, holding his glass on a level with his nose. ‘Not without warning,’ he said. ‘I told you weeks ago that I was sick of hanging around here doing nothing. I only stayed to please you. You have to have your little court. You must keep up the pretence that you’ve a position and a staff. But I’ve had enough. I’ve wired Cairo. I’m off as soon as I get my orders.’
Inchcape, who had been staring severely at Clarence, now swung round and explained to Pinkrose: ‘Lawson was seconded to us by the British Council. If he is determined to go, we can’t do anything about it. But it’s a serious loss. One cannot get replacement these days.’
Pinkrose nodded his sympathy and also stared severely at Clarence who was saying: ‘I’m no loss. Now if you were to go, Inchi-boy, it would be different. British prestige would never stand the shock.’
Ignoring this, Inchcape went on talking to Pinkrose: ‘My feeling is, that whatever the danger, a man should not desert his post.’
Clarence gave a laugh. ‘You’re in no danger. And your post is just a joke.’
At this, Inchcape swung round in a rage. ‘At least, I’m sticking to it. As for danger, I’d remind you that I attended Calinescu’s funeral.’
‘The whole of Bucharest attended Calinescu’s funeral.’
Pinkrose, upright, alert, his cheeks aglow, glanced keenly from one to other of the contestants. For the first time since his arrival, he looked as though he were enjoying himself.
Guy went over to the pianoforte on which Inchcape’s Chinese chess-set was arranged. Standing there, moving the pieces about, he appeared preoccupied but his face was sad and creased like the face of a Basanji dog, and as Clarence roused himself to press advantage, he said: ‘That’s enough, Clarence.’
‘You’re right, of course.’ Clarence stretched his arm and caught at Guy’s hand. While Pinkrose goggled at this conduct Clarence said: ‘You’re always right. You’re the only one of us who can justify his existence here. The summer school may not be much, but at least it’s a challenge …’
Guy drew his hand away. ‘The summer school was closed down last week.’
Collapsing back into his chair, Clarence sighed deeply. ‘What the hell does it matter, anyway?’ he mumbled.
The door opened and Pauli entered bearing two large dishes, one of rice and the other of some sort of stew. He filled plates and handed them round with lavish smiles. A local wine was served.
As they were eating, David remarked that he, too, would be away next week-end. He was going to the Delta.
‘Ha, the Delta!’ said Clarence with a malign knowingness. ‘He says he’s going to the Delta.’
Pinkrose looked at Clarence in bewilderment. No one spoke until the meal ended and Inchcape rose to indicate the party was over. The gesture was not necessary. His guests were already preparing to go.
21
Harriet next evening was a discomfited hostess. The bones of Pinkrose’s egotism remained visible despite his veil of sociability. She felt he intended they should remain visible. They represented protest. He was a guest, but an unwilling guest. He was making the barest of concessions to good manners.
That had been one of the mornings in which there was nothing in the market. ‘Nothing but cabbage,’ Despina said.
Harriet had gone to Dragomir’s where there was food for those who could pay for it. The favoured customers there were no longer Rumanian males but German females: the wives of the attachés employed in vast numbers at the two big German diplomatic establishments. Strongly built and determined, living on so favourable a rate of exchange that they went shopping with bundles of thousand-lei notes in their hands, these women were formidable rivals whom Harriet would face only when desperate. She obtained two scrawny little chickens. She then tried to find a bottle of sherry, but sherry had disappeared from the shops. She ended up with an imitation madeira.