‘Don’t you?’
‘I don’t. I think his answer exposes both Hemingway and his limitations. He simply didn’t know what Fitzgerald meant.’
‘Indeed!’ Ben Phipps smiled indulgently: ‘And what did he mean?’
‘He meant that the rich have an attitude of mind which only money can buy.’
‘I can’t say I’ve noticed it.’
‘You should have noticed it. You hung around Cookson long enough.’
‘Cookson amused me.’
‘And you amused Cookson. I’m told you were the Phaleron court jester.’
‘I certainly laughed at him and his money.’
‘That was one way of defending yourself.’
‘Defending myself?’
‘Surely you know laughter is a defence? We laugh at the things we fear most.’
‘She’s joking,’ Guy said, but Ben Phipps knew she was not joking. He lost his indulgent air. His expression hardened and she saw him control, but only just control, the impulse to insult her.
He disliked her as much as she disliked him, so why should she waste her life here, acting as audience to a man she despised? As for Guy, sitting there uneasily smiling, he seemed at that moment merely a gaoler who hemmed her in with people who did not interest her and talk that bored her. She had found no release in marriage. It had forced her further back into the prison of herself. Acutely conscious now of the passing of time, she felt she was not living but was being fobbed off with an imitation of life.
As the evening went on, Phipps returned, inevitably, to the sources of the world’s mishap and Harriet, listening, reached a point of conscious revolt. At the mention of the mysterious Zoippus Bank, she broke in on him: ‘There is no Zoippus Bank. There never was and never will be a Zoippus Bank. I’m quite sure no Jew ever financed Hitler. I know the Vatican was never involved with Krupps and Wall Street and Bethlehem Steel …’
‘You know fuck all,’ said Ben Phipps.
Harriet met the hatred of his small eyes, and said with hatred: ‘You ugly little man!’
His mouth fell open. She could see that she had hurt him.
Guy was hurt, too. In shocked remonstrance he said: ‘Darling!’
She jumped up, near tears, and hurried through the crowded restaurant. Guy caught her as she was leaving the front hall. He said: ‘Come back.’
‘No.’ She turned on him, raging: ‘Why do you drag me round to listen to Ben Phipps. You know I can’t bear him.’
‘But he’s my friend.’
‘Charles Warden was my friend.’
‘That was different …’
‘I don’t think so. You want Phipps’s company; I prefer Charles.’
‘But you don’t need Charles. You have me.’
Harriet did not reply to that.
Pained and puzzled, Guy reasoned with her: ‘Why do you dislike Ben? He’s much more amusing than the people you do like. I find Alan Frewen a dull dog; and as for Charles Warden! He’s a pleasant enough fellow, but he takes himself too seriously. He’s quite immature.’ Guy looked to her for agreement and when she did not agree, said: ‘But he’s good-looking. I suppose that means something to you?’
‘He is good-looking, it’s true; but that has nothing to do with it. In fact, when I first saw him, I thought he had a vain, unpleasant face.’
‘You don’t think so now?’
‘No.’
Guy lowered his head, frowning to hide his distress, and asked: ‘Do you want to leave me?’
‘Good heavens, no; there’s no suggestion of such a thing.’
Guy’s head dropped lower. Miserably embarrassed, he said: ‘I suppose you want to have an affair with him?’
‘Really!’ Harriet was appalled at such a question. An unanswerable question at that! ‘It’s out of the question. As though one could, anyway – life being what it is! The impermanence of things; and the fact one has no time, no opportunity! But there never was any question … It was simply that I was lonely.’
‘You’re not lonely now. You’re always out with Ben and me.’
‘Ben bores me.’
‘Darling, you know I don’t want to deprive you of anything.’
‘What is there to deprive me of? Charles isn’t here for long. It’s just that I would like to see him.’
‘Very well. But come back to the table. Be nice to Ben. He knows he’s ugly. No need to rub it in. Tell him you’re sorry, there’s a good girl?’
‘I am sorry. I didn’t want to hurt him.’
‘Come along, then.’ Guy took her hand and led her back into the restaurant.
22
The raids were more frequent now: a sign, Ben Phipps said, of impending events. Some mornings it was scarcely possible to get into Athens between the alerts. On one of these mornings, walking from the metro station at Monastiraki, Harriet came upon two British tanks. They had stopped just inside Hermes Street and the men were standing together in the road.
There had been snow during the night. The pavements were wet; the light, coming from the dark, wet sky had the blue fluorescence of snow-light, yet a tree overhanging a garden wall was in full blossom.
Harriet was not the only one who stopped to look at the tanks. Some of the people seemed mystified by their sand-coloured camouflage and the insignia of camels and palms. To Harriet they were familiar, but in a recondite, disturbing way as though they belonged to some life she had lived long ago. The young Englishmen also came out of the past. They all looked alike: not tall, as she remembered the English, but strongly built, with sun-reddened faces and hair bleached blond. When they became aware of her, they stopped talking. They looked at her, rapt, and she looked back, each remembering the world from which they had come, too shy to speak.
She made off suddenly. In the office the atmosphere was emotional and even Miss Gladys was moved to speech. To Harriet and to anyone who entered, she said: ‘Our lads are arriving. Our lads are arriving. Isn’t it great! I was in the know, of course. Oh yes, I’ve known all along. Lord Pinkrose let something drop, but not accidentally. Oh, no, not accidentally! He often says something to show that he trusts me.’
Ben Phipps, when he came in, did not wait to hear the whole of this speech but hurried through to the News Room, leaving all the doors open so, noisy and voluble, he could be heard shouting: ‘We’ve had it now. We’ve issued a direct challenge to the Boche.’
He had just come from the Piraeus where he said troops were disembarking and supplies were being off-loaded on to the very steps of the German consulate.
‘Does the Legation know this?’ Alan asked.
‘I telephoned them, but what can they do? The Greeks aren’t at war with the Germans; at least, not yet. And there the stuff is, for all to see. The Italians are bombing it and the German Military Attaché is making notes. When I arrived, he was counting the guns. He gave me a nod and said: “Wie gewöhnlich – zu wenig und zu spät!”’
‘Is this true?’ Alan asked.
‘It would be damned funny if it were.’
‘I mean, is it true the Germans are watching the disembarkation?’
‘It certainly is. Go and see for yourself.’
Alan put his hand to the telephone, paused and took it away again.
‘Nothing to be done,’ Phipps said. ‘The usual army cock-up. But what does it matter? We don’t stand a chance.’
‘I’m not so sure,’ Alan said. ‘It’s amazing what we can do in a tight corner. But whatever happens, it’s better to suffer with the Greeks than leave them to struggle on alone.’
In the exhilaration of expectation and preparation for action that might, after all, succeed, Harriet felt justified in contacting Charles. She wrote: ‘I want to see you. Meet me at one o’clock,’ and gave the note to a military messenger in the hall.