‘Ticki, I can’t bear it any longer here.’
‘I’ll have to figure it out, darling.’
‘Ethel Maybury’s in South Africa, and the Collinses. We’ve got friends in South Africa.’
‘Prices are high.’
‘You could drop some of your silly old life insurances, Ticki. And, Ticki, you could economize here without me. You could have your meals at the mess and do without the cook.’
‘He doesn’t cost much.’
‘Every little helps, Ticki.’
‘I’d miss you,’ he said.
‘No, Ticki, you wouldn’t,’ she said, and surprised him by the range of her sad spasmodic understanding. ‘After all,’ she said, ‘there’s nobody to save for.’
He said gently, ‘I’ll try and work something out You know if it’s possible I’d do anything for you -anything.’
‘This isn’t just two in the morning comfort, Ticki, is it? You will do something?’
‘Yes, dear. I’ll manage somehow.’ He was surprised how quickly she went to sleep: she was like a tired carrier who has slipped his load. She was asleep before he had finished his sentence, clutching one of his fingers like a child, breathing as easily. The load lay beside him now, and he prepared to lift it.
Chapter Two
AT eight in the morning on his way to the jetty Scobie called at the bank. The manager’s office was shaded and cooclass="underline" a glass of iced water stood on top of a safe. ‘Good morning, Robinson.’
Robinson was tall and hollow-chested and bitter because he hadn’t been posted to Nigeria. He said, ‘When will this filthy weather break? The rains are late.’
‘They’ve started in the Protectorate.’
‘In Nigeria,’ Robinson said, ‘one always knew where one was. What can I do for you, Scobie?’
‘Do you mind if I sit down?’
‘Of course. I never sit down before ten myself. Standing up keeps the digestion in order.’ He rambled restlessly across his office on legs like stilts: he took a sip of the iced water with distaste as though it were medicine. On his desk Scobie saw a book called Diseases of the Urinary Tract open at a coloured illustration. ‘What can I do for you?’ Robinson repeated.
‘Give me two hundred and fifty pounds,’ Scobie said with a nervous attempt at jocularity.
‘You people always think a bank’s made of money,’ Robinson mechanically jested. ‘How much do you really want?’
‘Three fifty.’
‘What’s your balance at the moment?’
‘I think about thirty pounds. It’s the end of the month.’
‘We’d better check up on that.’ He called a clerk and while they waited Robinson paced the little room - six paces to the wall and round again. ‘There and back a hundred and seventy-six times,’ he said, ‘makes a mile. I try and put in three miles before lunch. It keeps one healthy. In Nigeria I used to walk a mile and a half to breakfast at the club, and then a mile and a half back to the office. Nowhere fit to walk here,’ he said, pivoting on the carpet A clerk, laid a slip of paper on the desk. Robinson held it close to his eyes, as though he wanted to smell it. ‘Twenty-eight pounds fifteen and sevenpence,’ he said.
‘I want to send my wife to South Africa.’
‘Oh yes. Yes.’
‘I daresay,’ Scobie said, ‘I might do it on a bit less. I shan’t be able to allow her very much on my salary though.’
‘I really don’t see how...’
‘I thought perhaps I could get an overdraft,’ he said vaguely. ‘Lots of people have them, don’t they? Do you know I believe I only had one once - for a few weeks - for about fifteen pounds. I didn’t like it. It scared me. I always felt I owed the bank manager the money.’
‘The trouble is, Scobie,’ Robinson said, ‘we’ve had orders to be very strict about overdrafts. It’s the war, you know, There’s one valuable security nobody can offer now, his life.’
‘Yes, I see that of course. But my life’s pretty good and I’m not stirring from here. No submarines for me. And the job’s secure, Robinson,’ he went on with the same ineffectual at’ tempt at flippancy.
‘The Commissioner’s retiring, isn’t he?’ Robinson said, reaching the safe at the end of the room and turning.
‘Yes, but I’m not’
‘I’m glad to hear that Scobie. There’ve been rumours .. .’
‘I suppose I’ll have to retire one day, but that’s a long way off. I’d much rather die in my boots. There’s always my life insurance policy, Robinson. What about that for security?’
‘You know you dropped one insurance three years ago.’
‘That was the year Louise went home for an operation.’
‘I don’t think the paid-up value of the other two amounts to much, Scobie.’
‘Still they protect you in case of death, don’t they?’
‘If you go on paying the premiums. We haven’t any guarantee, you know.’
‘Of course not,’ Scobie said, ‘I see that.’
‘I’m very sorry, Scobie. This isn’t personal. It’s the policy of the bank. If you’d wanted fifty pounds, I’d have lent it you myself.’
‘Forget it, Robinson,’ Scobie said. ‘It’s not important.’ He gave his embarrassed laugh. ‘The boys at the Secretariat would say I can always pick it up in bribes. How’s Molly?’ ‘She’s very well, thank you. Wish I were the same.’ ‘You read too many of those medical books, Robinson.’ ‘A man’s got to know what’s wrong with him. Going to be at the club tonight?’
‘I don’t think so. Louise is tired. You know how it is before the rains. Sorry to have kept you, Robinson. I must be getting along to the wharf.’
He walked rapidly down-hill from the bank with his head bent He felt as though he had been detected in a mean action - he had asked for money and had been refused. Louise had deserved better of him. It seemed to him that he must have failed in some way in manhood.
Druce had come out himself to the Esperança with his squad of F.S.P. men. At the gangway a steward awaited them with an invitation to join the captain for drinks in his cabin. The officer in charge of the naval guard was already there before them. This was a regular part of the fortnightly routine - the establishment of friendly relations. By accepting his hospitality they tried to ease down for the neutral the bitter pill of search; below the bridge the search party would proceed smoothly without them. While the first-class passengers had their passports examined, their cabins would be ransacked by a squad of the F.S.P. Already others were going through the hold - the dreary hopeless business of sifting rice. What had Yusef said, ‘Have you ever found one little diamond? Do you think you ever will?’ In a few minutes when relations had become sufficiently smooth after the drinks Scobie would have the unpleasant task of searching the captain’s own cabin. The stiff disjointed conversation was carried on mainly by the naval lieutenant.
The captain wiped his fat yellow face and said, ‘Of course for the English I feel in the heart an enormous admiration.’
‘We don’t like doing it, you know,’ the lieutenant said. ‘Hard luck being a neutral.’
‘My heart,’ the Portuguese captain said, ‘is full of admiration for your great struggle. There is no room for resentment. Some of my people feel resentment. Me none.’ The face streamed with sweat, and the eyeballs were contused. The man kept on speaking of his heart, but it seemed to Scobie that a long deep surgical operation would have been required to find it.
‘Very good of you,’ the lieutenant said. ‘Appreciate your attitude.’
‘Another glass of port, gentlemen?’
‘Don’t mind if I do. Nothing like this on shore you know. You, Scobie?’
‘No, thanks.’
‘I hope you won’t find it necessary to keep us here tonight, major?’