Scruffy - A Diversion (10 page)

This was the dilemma with which the Gunner found himself face to face. On the one hand he could have a go at retrieving this object and get this ugly-looking bespectacled specimen, and his eventual connections with the Navy, off his neck. On the other hand he was in a position to assure himself and all connected with him a long period of armistice as far as Scruffy was concerned. If he could guarantee that for a long period there would be no further trouble from that source, would it not be worth risking whatever difficulties might arise to impale them on the other horn of the dilemma?

The Gunner was intelligent enough to recognize that this problem was too great a one for him to cope with. That was why they had officers in the Army. And so having stalled off Ramirez for the night he took it at once to Captain Bailey.

“You’re sure,” Tim said, captivated by the prospect the Gunner held out to him. Even gaining a few months would be worth it, for by that time Scruffy’s day would have been long forgotten and the authorities might again be in a mood to consider some of his projects.

“I’d bet me ’ead on it, sir,” the Gunner replied. “You should have seen ’im, sir, lovin’ away at it like it was his fancy on a Saturday night. I know the signs, ’e’ll be as good as gold as long as it lasts!” He reflected for a moment and then continued. “On the other ’and, sir, there’s no gainsaying that this Ramirez chap’s a narsty bit o” work, I know the type. He’ll go on and on keeping the place in an uproar, and besides he works in Captain Russell’s department. I’ve checked on that, sir. He really seems to be one of their best men.”

Tim nodded and thought hard. He said, “You’ve done well, Lovejoy.” A solution struck him. “Look here,” he said, “how much do you think one of those things would cost?”

“I wouldn’t know, sir. Matter of fifteen quid maybe.”

“Let me have that list we’re putting through for damages today,” Tim said.

The Gunner handed it to him. A gleam came into his cunning little eyes. “Oh, I say, sir,” he said, “that’s a brain-wave. Tell ’em it’s impossible for us to recover his bleeding ’air-piece and let the Crown pay for a new one.”

“They’ll thank me for it in the long run,” Tim said. “And after all he did pinch it. There’ll be such a yell when they see this list they probably won’t even notice the item for the wig. You find out for me what it will cost for another and we’ll bung it through and hope for the best.”

The Gunner nodded murmuring, “Old Scruff won’t be ’alf pleased. You should see him carrying on with that thing.”

“Well then, that settles it,” Tim said. “Get on with it.” He took a ten-shilling note from his pocket and slid it across the desk to the Gunner. “That’s for using your loaf,” he said. “Have a couple on me and Scruffy. To peace and quiet.”

And so it was done. The toupée it seemed was the work of a gifted wig maker in Algeciras who was not only a speedy worker, but reasonable and the replacement came to no more than £13 18s. 6d. and was delivered within a week. Tim had proved right and so appalled were the Government accountants at the damages they had to O.K. for Scruffy’s rampage that the item of the wig was never even questioned.

Ramirez declared himself as satisfied with the arrangements since no better could be arrived at and Lovejoy had convinced him it was impossible to retrieve the original article. In a sense he had scored off the British. He had got himself noticed and his property replaced. Still the incident left its scar.

6
Lady French Passes the Fish

S
ome ten days later the telephone rang in the Mount. Felicity, who was near by, picked it up, always with hope, yet quite prepared for continuing disappointment. Tim had not called her since their first meeting. Evidently she had failed to make an impression on him.

But this time it was he. “Hello, hello—Miss French? I say, you probably won’t remember me, but this is Captain Bailey. Tim Bailey.”

“You may call me Felicity,” said Felicity firmly. Now that she had him on the other end of the wire there was going to be no further nonsense. “Where have you been the last ten days?”

“Nursing. It didn’t help though, poor old Helen died.”

“Helen?”

“Monty’s wife.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Friends of yours?”

“Two of my apes. Helen got pneumonia and I’ve had to nurse her. Lovejoy and I gave her warm milk, arrowroot and brandy every morning. And just when I thought I had her over it she suddenly turned around and died. But that isn’t actually what I called you about—Miss—I mean Felicity.”

“No,” queried Felicity, “was there something else?” and even as she waited at the instrument she marvelled at the flush mounting to her cheeks and the sudden butterfly flapping about in her stomach to reconfirm her early diagnosis that this odd bod who lived apparently only for his unattractive apes might mean something to her. What strange chemistries decided these affinities?

“Do you remember that perfectly smashing idea you had that day up there by the apes’ den?”

Felicity did, but she wasn’t going to let on. “Idea—?”

“About naming one of my apelets after Princess Elizabeth. Well, it’s come off. I promised I’d let you know.”

“Oh, Tim, I’m thrilled. Have you heard—?”

“The works,” said Tim. “Letter on Palace stationery. Stories in the Press. I’d like to show it to you if I may. You wouldn’t by any chance be free, say, in half an hour for a bit? I could get off. Of course, I’m sure you’re awfully busy, but—”

Felicity decided to abandon coquetry and feminine wiles. She replied, “I’m not busy. I’m free. Where shall we meet?”

“What about the Moorish Castle?”

“Done,” said Felicity. “Half an hour.”

She replaced the receiver and talked to herself. “
Now I must be calm. I must move slowly. I must put on fresh lipstick
,
run a comb through my hair and I must get in my car and drive slowly and carefully
,
trying not to knock people over. Oh dear
,
what is it about that silly man that has done this to me?”

The ruined tower of the Moorish Castle looks out over the bay and the white houses of Algeciras. From the shore the moulded brown hills of Spain sweep backwards to the north-west. Beyond them a red sun was preparing to set. Gazing down from the stone terrace Tim could see the Casemates with their drill ground, a part of the racecourse and the narrow neck of the border zone between Gibraltar and La Linea.

“Look here,” Tim was saying and handed Felicity the letter on the heavy stationery headed Buckingham Palace, in which the King’s Private Secretary advised Captain T. Bailey, O.I.C. Apes, Gibraltar, that His Majesty would be pleased to have him name one of the apes Elizabeth, that the Princess had been delighted with the photographs and would enjoy having reports on the progress of her namesake.

“But,” Tim continued with growing excitement, “that’s not all. Here’s another from the Press Officer at the Palace saying His Majesty has sanctioned a release of this story to the Press. It’s been given to the wire associations. It’s gone off all over the world. Just think of it, they are reading about our apes in Timbuctoo, in Mandalay, in Moscow, in Angola, in Buenos Aires, Brisbane, and New York. And if it hadn’t been for you—”

“You wrote the letter,” Felicity said.

“It was your idea,” countered Tim, “and that makes you merely marvellous. I don’t suppose you really know what you’ve done for me and for them. It takes the heat right off old Scruff for a bit. Makes everybody ape-conscious—now when I go along and ask—”

“Was the Brigadier pleased?” Felicity asked.

The question sounded innocent, but when Timothy looked at her he caught a glimpse of the mischief behind her eyes and suddenly felt the warmth of her particular kind of enchantment. She was such a solidly good kid. That’s how you would think of her back home. A good kid. Someone you could rely on, who wouldn’t drip and dither if you were in trouble, but would come up with an idea. “Oh, he had me over the coals of course. Wanted to know what I meant by going over his head.”

“I didn’t know he’d got one,” Felicity commented. “What did you say?”

“I threw paragraph eight, Clause A of Standing Part One Orders at him which says, ‘It shall be the duty of the Officer in Charge Apes to provide names for all new-born surviving apes bred and born on the Rock and such names shall be duly registered and inscribed upon the rolls, and thereafter the apes shall be referred to by that name . . .’ ”

“That must have shaken him,” Felicity said. “I suppose he wrote that himself.”

“One of his predecessors,” Tim explained. “But that’s nothing to the next broadside. Listen to this: ‘Should the Officer in Charge Apes wish to confer the name of any living person upon an ape he must first secure permission of said person in writing.’ ”

“Check! Mate in one move,” said Felicity. “What did the Brigadier say to that?”

“Poor old boy, he grew rather plaintive and asked why I didn’t let him know.”

“And—?”

“I had been waiting for that one for days,” Tim said. He drew himself to attention and snapped Felicity an exaggeration of the salute he had thrown at the Brigadier. “Sir! You said I was not to pass any more bumph over your desk.”

“Mate!” cried Felicity. “Oh, Tim, I could love you for that,” and she threw back her head and began to roar with laughter.

It set Tim off too and the next moment they found that they had laughed themselves into one another’s arms, for the joke was so good and the merriment so infectious that they found it easier, in fact almost necessary, to cleave to one another for support. Thus they clung to one another for an instant in a kind of personal ecstasy of enjoyment of the joke and the plot they had hatched out together before separating in quite the most natural manner, except that Tim found that he was tingling strangely.

And far, far below a bugle call arose faintly through the heavy summer air from the Casemates, and then there was a thud as an Artillery piece was fired. It was the sunset gun.

Felicity looked out over the Spanish hills. She no longer laughed. A small frown appeared on her brow. “Do you think there is going to be a war, Tim?” she asked.

The young officer was silent for some time while he reflected upon what he knew was concealed there before he replied, “I hope not,” and with a little thrill that rippled over her heart Felicity understood the connection between that reply and his next query which he made after regarding her curiously. “How long do you expect to be here, Felicity?”

“As long as Mother and Dad are,” Felicity replied, and for a moment she reflected moodily. “I’m supposed to find a husband. Mother’s worried about my becoming a spinster. Are you terrified?” It was a comic question but this time there was a gravity behind her eyes.

“Abou Ben Bailey’s name will not be heading Mum’s list,” Tim replied.

“Why did you ask if I would be staying long?”

“Because if there is a war I hope you will leave the Rock very quickly.”

“Why?”

“Your father knows, the Brigadier knows, everybody really knows excepting the natives.” He pointed out towards the rolling brown hills of Spain. “So friendly and innocent looking,” he said, “and loaded. Back in those folds. German 32-centimetre guns. Zeroed in on us.”

Felicity looked at him questioningly, “And ours?”

“Pointing the wrong way most of them,” Timothy replied. “Up into the sky or out to sea. And wrong trajectory for firing inland. Typical, isn’t it?” He pointed once more to the hills. “All high-trajectory guns. It’s going to be a mess. They’ll have to get the women and children out. The Spaniards have never given up wanting this back, you know.” He fell silent for a moment and Felicity didn’t speak either, then Tim added, “My apes won’t like it at all.”

“No?”

“They hate noises of any kind. Must hurt their ears or something. Whenever we have a shoot on, Lovejoy goes up and tells them. They seem to understand him and buzz off to the other side of the Rock where they have a jolly good fight with the Middle Hill pack and come back when it’s over.”

The sun bowed out below the rim of the hills. Wisps of mist collected on the surface of the sea. Tim said, “Well,” and then, “It was good of you to come here and let me chatter at you. I suppose we’d better be getting on back.”

“Yes,” Felicity replied, “I think so. Will it be another ten days before I shall be hearing from you?”

“No,” said Tim, “it won’t. May I call you tomorrow?”

“Yes, please.”

They walked over to where their respective cars were parked and stood there silently for a moment. Then quietly and simultaneously as though the idea had generated in both at the same moment; they leaned close and kissed one another gently. Then not even touching hands or murmuring good-bye, they got into their cars and drove off.

Lady French was dressing when Felicity went clattering by the open door of her bedroom. “Felicity dear,” she called, “is that you?”

“Yes, Mummy.”

“I was beginning to worry you’d be late, and you know how nervous your father gets if he’s kept waiting. We’ve been asked back to dine at the Brigadier’s tonight. And darling, don’t use water on your hair this time—after half an hour it begins to look like a fright wig. I’ve bought you some brilliantine—it’s up in your room—I think you ought to wear your—”

What Felicity ought to wear was smothered owing to the fact that she had come into the room, gone over to her mother as she sat at her dressing-table, put her arms about her neck and her mouth close to her ear, hugged her and whispered, “Oh Mummy, Mummy, Mummy. He kissed me!”

All the alarm bells went off inside Lady French. “Felicity! Who kissed you?”

Felicity raised her lovely head, her eyes gazed inward at the delectable thing that had happened, and she whispered, “Captain Bailey!”

“Felicity! You’re not really serious about this?”

“I don’t know, Mummy!”

“You realize, of course, what a blow this would be to your father. His family have always been Navy since before Nelson’s time.”

Felicity reflected and said, “But he’s such a nice boy, even if he seems to dote on monkeys. He’s sorry for them.”