I indicated that I wrote for the papers, not mentioning books because, if not specifically in your line, authorship is an embarrassing subject for all concerned. Besides, it never sounds like a serious occupation. Up to that moment, no one had pressed inquiries further than that, satisfied that journalism was a known form of keeping body and soul together, even if an esoteric one.
‘I thought you might do something of the sort,’ said Bithel, speaking with respect. ‘I was trained for professional life too — intended for an auctioneer, like my pa. Never cared for the work somehow. Didn’t even finish my training, as a matter of fact. Always been more or less interested in the theatre. Had walk-on parts once or twice but I’m no actor. I’m quite aware of that. I like doing odd jobs in any case. Can’t bear being tied down. Worked for a time in our local cinema, for instance. Didn’t have to do much except turn up in the evening wearing a dinner jacket.’
‘Does that sort of thing bring in enough?’
‘Not much cash in it, of course. You’ll never make a fortune that way, but I rub along all right with the few pennies I have already. Helps not being married. I expect you’re married?’
‘I am, as a matter of fact.’
He made marriage sound as if it required some excuse.
‘I thought you would be,’ he said. ‘As I mentioned, I’m not. Never found the right girl somehow.’
Bithel looked infinitely uncomfortable when he admitted that. There was a pause in our conversation. I could not think of anything to suggest. Girls certainly did not appear much in his line, though you never could tell. I asked how he came to be in the Territorial Army Reserve, which seemed to require explanation.
‘Joined the Terriers years ago,’ he said. ‘Seemed the thing to do. Never thought I’d wear uniform again when I gave them up. Rather glad to get back now and have some regular money rolling in. I’ve been out of a job, as a matter of fact, and what I’ve got doesn’t support me. We draw Field Allowance here, so I heard last night. I expect you know that already. Makes a nice addition to the pay. Funds were running rather low, to tell the truth. Always such a lot to spend money on. Reading, for instance. I expect you’re an omnivorous reader, if you’re a journalist. What digests do you take?’
At first I thought he referred to some sort of medical treatment, harking back to the conversation of the chaplains the night before, then realized the question had something to do with reading. I had to admit I did not take any digests. Bithel seemed disappointed at this answer.
‘I don’t really buy a lot of digests myself,’ he admitted. ‘Perhaps not as many as I should. They have interesting articles in them sometimes. About sex, for instance. Sex psychology, I mean. Do you know about that?’
‘I’ve heard of it.’
‘I don’t mean the cheap stuff just to catch the eye, girls and legs, all that. There are abnormal sides you’d never guess. It’s wiser to know about such things, don’t you think?’
‘Certainly.’
Bithel moved nearer as we walked, lowering his voice again. There was a faint suggestion of scented soap at this close, too close, range.
‘Did they say anything about me before I arrived?’ he asked in a troubled tone.
‘Who?’
‘Anybody in the Battalion?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Any details about my family?’
‘Somebody said you were a brother of the VC.’
‘They did?’
‘Yes.’
‘What did you say when they told you that?’
‘I thought you must be too young to be his brother — more likely his nephew.’
‘Quite right. I’m not Bithel VC’s brother.’
‘You are his nephew?’
‘I never said so, did I? But don’t let’s talk any more about that. There was something else I wanted to ask you. Did they say anything about games?’
‘What sort of games?’
‘Did they say I played any special game?’
‘There was some talk of your having played rugger for Wales.’
Bithel groaned.
‘There was talk of that?’ he asked, as if to make sure he had heard right.
‘Yes.’
‘I knew there’d been a misunderstanding,’ he said.
‘What about?’
‘Why, about my playing football — about rugger. You know what it is when you’ve had a few drinks. Very easy to give a wrong impression. I must have done that when I phoned that officer dealing with TA Reservists. Talked too much about local matters, sport, other people of the name of Bithel and so on.’
‘So the VC is no relation, and you didn’t play rugger for Wales?’
‘I wouldn’t go so far as to say he was no relation. Never know who you may be related to in this part of the world. He’s not a brother or uncle anyway. I must have managed to mislead that fellow completely if he got that idea into his head. He didn’t sound very bright on the phone. I thought so at the time. One of these old dug-outs, I suppose. Colonel Blimp type. But it isn’t Bithel VC who worries me so much. It’s this rugger misunderstanding.’
‘How did it arise?’
‘God knows. Something misheard on the phone too, I should think. I believe there was a merchant called Bithel in the Welsh Fifteen one year. Perhaps there was a Bithel who played cricket for Glamorgan and I’ve muddled it. One or the other, I’m sure. It was a few years back anyway. I must have mentioned it for some reason.’
‘It doesn’t really matter, does it?’
‘It would if we had to play rugger.’
‘That isn’t very likely.’
‘The fact is I’ve never played rugger in my life,’ said Bithel. ‘Never had the chance. Not particularly keen to either. Do you think we shall have to play?’
‘Not much time with all the training, I should imagine.’
‘I hope not,’ he said, rather desperately. ‘There’s a rumour we’re going to move almost at once in any case.’
‘Any idea where?’
‘People seem to think Northern Ireland. I say, this parade ground is a long way off, isn’t it. Hope we shan’t be inspected too closely, I’m not all that well shaved. I cut myself this morning. Hand shaky, for some reason’
‘That dance was a splendid affair.’
‘What dance?’
‘The dance you did round the dummy in your bed last night.’
‘Ah,’ said Bithel laughing, ‘I’ve heard that one before — having somebody on by pretending he made a fool of himself the night before. I know when I’m having my leg pulled. As a matter of fact I was rather relieved when everyone went off quietly to bed last night. I thought there might be some ragging, and I was feeling tired after the journey. They used to rag a lot when I was in Territorial camp years ago. I never liked it. Not cut out for that sort of thing. But to get back to razors — what shaving soap do you use? I’m trying a new kind. Saw it advertized in Health and Strength. Thought I’d experiment. I like a change of soaps from time to time. It freshens you up.’
By that time we had reached the parade ground. Kedward was already there. He took me off to the platoon I was to command. Bithel disappeared in another direction. Kedward explained certain matters, then we marched up and down side by side until officers were ordered to fall in. The service was held in one of the parish churches of the town. Later, from the pulpit, Popkiss, transformed now from the pale, embarrassed cleric of the saloon bar, orated with the ease and energy shared by officers and men throughout the Battalion. His text was from Ezekiel. Popkiss read the passage at length:
‘The hand of the Lord was upon me, and carried me out in the spirit of the Lord, and set me down in the midst of the valley which was full of bones, and caused me to pass them round about: and, behold, there were very many in the open valley: and, lo, they were very dry. And he said unto me, Son of man, can these bones live? And I answered, O Lord God thou knowest. Again he said unto me, Prophesy upon these bones, and say unto them, O ye dry bones, hear the word of the Lord. Thus saith the Lord God unto these bones; Behold, I will cause breath to enter into you, and ye shall live. And I will lay sinews upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath into you, and ye shall live; and ye shall know that I am the Lord. So I prophesied as I was commanded; and as I prophesied there was a noise, and behold a shaking, and the bones came together, bone to bone. And when I beheld, lo, the sinews and the flesh came upon them, and the skin covered them above; and there was no breath in them. Then he said unto me, Prophesy unto the wind, prophesy, son of man, and say to the wind, Thus saith the Lord God; Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain that they may live. So I prophesied as he commanded me, and the breath came unto them and they lived, and stood up upon their feet, an exceeding great army …’