The Charioteer (21 page)

“Not in the least,” said Ralph. Once before Laurie had heard him speak with what might have been called professional finish. It was very much more apparent now. You would have said that he hadn’t a care in the world, and that his next words would probably be, “Take your boat stations in an orderly manner, please. There is plenty of room in the boats for everyone.”

In fact, however, he said, “I think you
had
better get drunk, Bim. Come along and I’ll fix you one of my specials.”

“We’ll
all
get drunk in a minute,” said Bim, looking around with a flashing smile. “But, darlings, if you think I’m going
any
where before I’ve got the true story of this romantic Odyssey, you must be
mad.
” He flicked out a heavy silk handkerchief with a monogram; a gold and platinum identity bracelet caught the light. “It
is
the Odyssey, isn’t it? I went to such a ropy school, my dear,” he confided to Laurie. “Free expression and no classics,
you’d
have
hated
it.
Is
it the Odyssey? The one where this silly boy goes away for about twenty years, and when he appears again he’s so dreadfully gone off that no one knows him except the nurse who … oh, excuse me, perhaps we’d better scrub that bit. And the dog took one look, didn’t he, and died of shock. And all this while, the poor queen has been knitting and knitting away
madly
in the bedroom, dropping stitches left and right, with suitors camping and screaming all over the house.” He smiled at them ingenuously, like a stage undergraduate. “Or is it Shakespeare I’m thinking of all the time?”

Laurie swung himself up on his feet. On the spur of the moment he found a new technique for doing it; it was rather painful, but it looked smooth. With intense pleasure he found himself three inches taller than Bim.

“No,” he said. “It’s the Odyssey all right. It’s the one where the man comes back from the war and finds the flash boys on his pitch, and runs them out.”

“Your sentiments do you credit,” said Bim raising his eyebrows.

Laurie listened to the internal echo of his own words with incredulous horror. Whatever would Ralph …

“Now, you two,” said Sandy suddenly. “Paddy-paws, paddy-paws, claws in.” A kind of pepper-cloud of facetiousness was flung on them from all sides. It brought Laurie very thoroughly down to earth. He could feel himself shaking with mingled anger, strain, and fatigue; and in jumping up he had wrenched his knee. Stirred by Sandy, the group was changing and breaking up around him. He felt a hard grip on his elbow and, turning, found Ralph saying something to him with anxious insistence; but he had missed it, and now Ralph had vanished in the crowd.

Laurie sat down again, feeling deadly tired. This was his first night out of hospital for months. Looking at his watch he saw that it was after ten; even with a pass he would still have been late. He had better ask Alec where the nearest telephone was; but Alec was talking to Sandy in a corner and it looked as though they were having words. The room was full of new faces; there were some furtive slippings-out, and self-conscious reappearances. Longing to be gone, he lit a cigarette and snatched a few minutes’ awkward rest, propped against the wall.

The divan sagged down. He turned to find Alec beside him.

“Laurie, I’m awfully sorry. Do forgive us all. I promised Ralph I’d look after you specially while he was gone.”

“Gone?” said Laurie. He looked around. No, of course, he hadn’t seen Ralph for some minutes now.

“He won’t be long. He’s just taking Bim home.”

Laurie drew in his breath sharply. He reached down to the floor, and felt for his stick.

“I don’t think I’ll wait, thanks very much.”

“When I say home, I only mean to a friend of his who’ll look after him and give him a bed. Ralph’ll probably be back in about fifteen minutes. It’s not far.”

“Thanks,” said Laurie, “but I won’t wait.”

“But what about—”

“It’s all right, I can get a car.”

He could sleep in a shelter somewhere, and get a bus in the morning. He’d have his passes stopped for a month; but, he thought bitterly, there wouldn’t be much hardship in that.

“I do wish you wouldn’t,” said Alec. He sat curled up on the divan looking rather charming and sensitive, and just a little exploiting it. “You see, there’s been a slight misunderstanding between Ralph and me just recently, which it won’t be easy for me to clear up; I don’t want him upset any more if I can help it.”

“It doesn’t matter in any case. It’s been a lovely party; thank you both for asking me.”

He started to get up. Alec reached out a surprisingly firm hand and quietly pulled him back.

“The thing about all that was, Bim had just about got to the end, and Ralph happened to be the only person who could do anything with him.”

Laurie thought of a good answer to this; but something gave him pause, and he didn’t say it.

“It’s a shame you couldn’t have met Bim a few months ago; well, even a few weeks. He was light relief, you know. Pure Restoration comedy. I don’t know how long it is since he averaged more than two or three hours’ sleep out of the twenty-four, he’s stopped talking about it; they’re not supposed to let on how far under strength they are. As a matter of fact, I think Bim’s one of two or three people who are still alive of the original squadron a few months back. I’ve no idea how long a break they’ve given him now, but I do know it takes a lot of sedative to cancel out a week’s benzedrine, especially if you’ve forgotten how to give it the chance. He can’t go on much longer. It’s too bad you had to meet him just tonight.”

“I shouldn’t have taken any notice.”

“Oh, my dear, it was just what he was after. If you hadn’t played I think he’d have collapsed like a house of cards, and I’d have hated that. He’s had a bit of a thing about Ralph for quite a while, but Ralph’s always managed to laugh it off successfully, up till tonight.”

“Oh,” said Laurie. “I see.”

“I was sure you would. Just a minute.” He got up and took a plate of sandwiches from Sandy, who looked rather sulky about it. “Do have something to eat; I’m going to. Sandy’ll cope with the rabble. How long have you been discharged from hospital, by the way? There was such a babel going on when Sandy told me.”

“It’ll be another week or two, I expect.”

“Oh,
God.
No wonder Ralph … I thought you were looking tired. What will they do to you when you get back?”

“Oh, nothing much. First offense. I feel fine. I think, you know, that probably I ought to be going. If you’d just tell Ralph that I’m sorry I couldn’t wait.”

“If it’s a matter of time, it’ll be quicker to wait for him. He can’t be long.” He bit into a sandwich, opened it to look inside, and stuck it together again. “I wonder what I put in that one, it’s rather good. In case I didn’t make this clear, there isn’t the slightest reason why Ralph should take any responsibility for Bim, except that he’s a person whom responsibility always seems to stick to.”

“I suppose he always was.”

“It was rather bad luck, his getting beached. Especially as it was a matter of inches, literally. He lost just half a finger too many. Two and a half instead of two. With two he’d probably have got back on the active list again.” He opened another sandwich. “A good deal seems to have happened to Ralph at Dunkirk, one way and another.”

Just then Sandy came up and said tartly, “Alec, if you could possibly tear yourself away for a moment, Peter and Theo want to say goodbye.”

Alec said, with pointed friendliness, “Just a moment, Laurie; I’ll be right back.” He went and saw off the people who were leaving; immediately after, Laurie saw him get Sandy in a corner and give him what looked like a quiet but concentrated dressing-down. When Sandy began to argue, he silenced him with a look and turned away.

“I’ve brought you a drink,” said Alec, returning. “Don’t take any notice of Sandy; he gets little turns, but they don’t mean a thing.”

Laurie took the unknown mixture and tasted it. It was smooth on the palate and, he guessed, concealed a ferocious kick; but it made him feel, for the moment, better. Alec said, “It’s what Ralph calls his special.”

“You were going to tell me something. I can’t remember what it was now. About Ralph at Dunkirk, or something.”

“Oh, yes. Well, on second thoughts, I can’t remember what it was either.”

“Just as you like.”

“Don’t be like that about it. It’s just—oh, well, nothing, except that Ralph’s got a funny idea about me this evening and it seems rather a moment not to add to it. You see, to give you a slightly more intelligible angle on all this, perhaps I ought to explain that Ralph and I at one time saw a good deal more of each other than we do now.”

“Yes, he told me.”

Alec looked at him without annoyance and said, “Yes, of course. So you’ll see how it is that I might know one or two things about Ralph which at the time he told them to me might seem in some degree to be my concern, and which afterwards one would regard as, well, privileged.”

“Yes,” said Laurie hazily. “Yes, quite.” He could feel the potion dissolving his fatigue into a loose-limbed relaxation. He thought that Alec had a pleasant, restful voice.

“So just now my name’s mud, which isn’t enjoyable, especially as I can do damn-all about it; but I mind more about Ralph, really. Not that I’m anything much now, of course; it’s just that so many of Ralph’s things have gone, if you understand me.”

“What did you put in this drink?”

“Oh. Oh, yes, of course. Don’t mind me, just drop off when you feel like it.”

“No, stay here and talk. I like it. Only Sandy doesn’t like it. You know about that?”

“Yes, I know about that. It’s not good for him to be let get away with it. He’ll be all right. What makes me cross about people like Ralph is the way everyone uses them. Their life gets like one of those ham spy films where they brief the agent and say, ‘But remember, one slip and you’re on your own.’ Take school. I went to a conventional public school and by firmly eluding all responsibility, I managed to get along nicely. Really, it makes me feel quite indignant when I think what must have been put on Ralph; and then, when the crack-up happened, no one was even sorry for him. Except you, of course.”

“
Sorry
for him?” Laurie opened his eyes wide; for a moment he struggled awake; he stared at Alec. “I wasn’t sorry for him.”

Alec looked at him. “I see,” he said slowly. “Oh, God, yes, now I see everything.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” He listened to the drag of his own voice and thought, No doubt about that. Drunk. Stinking.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Alec. “Let it go. No one but a lunatic would shove his oar in here, anyway.”

“I think we’re both a little bit tight. I am.”

“Oh, well, then we know where we are, don’t we?
In vino veritas:
alarmingly true, usually, don’t you find? It’s nice to know you make such a candid and sympathetic drunk; it’s reassuring, as far as it goes. Were you very surprised to find that Ralph remembered you after all?”

“He’s got a very good memory. Knew everyone’s name, all the little twirps, first day of term, everyone.”

“Listen, Laurie. Are you listening?”

“Sorry, Alec. You shouldn’t have put all that in this drink.”

“Oh, well. Can you see Sandy anywhere about?”

“No. Not here. Shall we look?”

“No, he’s just being naughty. We must leave him a bit longer or he’ll get spoilt. Everyone seems quite happy.” The few guests who were left seemed, indeed, to be sufficiently entertaining one another. “Do you think it funny that a person who’s been attracted by Ralph should also be attracted by Sandy? Or do you think I’m just not particular, as they say?”

“No, I think you’re nice. Funny, but really very nice.”

“Too kind, as Florence Nightingale said to Edward the Seventh. Much too kind, I’m afraid. T. E. Lawrence has a rather sad passage about ‘complex men who know how sacrifice uplifts the redeemer and casts down the bought.’ He doesn’t use the word ‘complex’ flatteringly, and neither do I. Ralph’s tragedy is that he’s retained through everything a curious innocence about it. I suppose when at last he loses that, the tragedy will be complete.”

“Where is he?”

“Oh, hello. I thought you passed out minutes ago. Ralph won’t be long.”

“Is he all right? You said he’s in a spot. You said then—tell me again. Can I do something? Where is he?”

“Not now. Take it easy. He’ll be on his way back by this time.”

“No, tell me, please, if I can do something. I want to know.”

“Not for the moment. It’s a pity, as things are, he takes such a functional view of his own existence. He isn’t even scrapping himself tragically; just by fits and starts of irritation, like throwing out junk you don’t see a use for. I don’t suppose, really, there was ever a time when I could have done much about it. Complex man with his mean little instinct of self-preservation. He could get plenty of full-time passengers, God knows, but he despises them. No, I see now the only kind of person who’d offer him some hope of happiness would be someone up to his own strength with the continual patience to go on concealing it. Or, of course, the modesty not to know it, which would mean an innocence comparable in its way with his own.”

Laurie, who disliked to feel himself slipping, had been determined to follow every word of this. He opened his heavy eyes.

“Like Bunny?” he said.

“What?”

“This friend of his. Bunny, isn’t it, he said?”

“Oh, dear God. Make yourself comfortable, my dear. Lie down properly and put your feet up; that’s the way. I’m not going to bother you any more.”

“I’m not so sleepy. When Ralph comes back, if he’s in a fix you’ve got to wake me. No good keep talking about he’s in trouble, and not do anything. Ralph was very good to me.”

“Was he? Laurie.
Laurie.
Just a minute. It doesn’t matter about the rest if you just listen to this. Do you hear?”

“Yes?” Laurie half sat up, rubbing an arm smarting from Alec’s wiry strength. “Yes, I can hear. What is it?”

“Stick around Ralph for a bit. Will you? You, not anyone else. That’s all. Just stick around.”