The Mandelbaum Gate (47 page)

Joanna
knew he would say ‘bloodshed’, which he did. The previous night she had shown
her latest puppet acquisition, newly arrived from England; it was a plain
old-fashioned Punch and Judy show, but it was electrically operated. They had
turned out the big lights and sat in the dim room watching Punch batter Judy
and Judy quarrel and squeak, and Punch with his stick batter Judy again. ‘Doesn’t
it take one back to one’s childhood?’ Joanna said. ‘Remember, at the seaside,
the Punch and Judy boxes — don’t you remember, Freddy?’

‘Oh, my
God!’ Freddy called out. ‘Stop it. I can’t stand it. I can’t watch this. Excuse
me … just let me, please … I’m going to bed.’

When he
had gone, Joanna and Matt turned on the big lights for a few minutes and
wondered whether to call the doctor. Then they decided to leave well alone.
They turned off the big lights and watched the show again, with less delight,
but now with the more rational eyes and comments of puppet connoisseurs.

‘I’m
sorry it upset you, Freddy,’ Joanna said when she found him in the garden next
morning.

He
said, ‘You look very sweet and fresh, Joanna.’ She was wearing her red linen
dress, with a white cardigan thrown over her shoulders.

She was
afraid he was going to say more about blood and bloodshed; this was so often
his fear since his lapse of memory — ‘I feel there’s going to be bloodshed. I
wonder if Miss Vaughan…’ Joanna had earlier recalled that once, when he was
in his former good health, Freddy had quietly confided in her his irritation
with his mother who, apparently, continually provoked her old companion, Benny.
Freddy had not been unduly concerned, but he had said, ‘Of course, Benny also
takes an odd turn now and then. Religious melancholia, She writes to me that
she dreams of murder, bloodshed, and so forth. Oh, these old women.’ And she
had debated recently with Matt whether Freddy had not meant that his mother,
not Benny, was given to this melancholy bloodshed notion, and had inherited the
morbidity from her. But Matt had thought this far-fetched. ‘If he can be got to
a psychiatrist, good and well. But I wouldn’t take it upon myself, personally,
to diagnose anything off-hand. It will come to a crisis soon, that’s certain.
Then we’ll see.’

‘He isn’t
really morbid,’ Joanna had said, ‘Not all the time, He’s really adorable, is
Freddy.’

There
was no question of anyone ever disliking Freddy. In most ways he was pleasant
for them to have round the house. And as they had become his closest friends in
this part of the world it was natural that they should have him round the house
when he needed them. Visits from the consulate seemed to upset Freddy, Joanna
wanted Matt to discourage them, but Matt was anxious not to interfere with
these men, who were only trying to get Freddy’s memory back.

But
Joanna’s mental nerves, which she did not admit to possessing, were being
attacked every time Freddy spoke of his premonitions of bloodshed, and he spoke
of them on the average of twice a day.

‘I can’t
help feeling it,’ he said, that morning. ‘It’s as if I’ve already been told. It’s
as if someone had sent me a letter or a message by word of mouth, warning me to
prevent this bloodshed that’s impending. I wish I could place—’

‘Freddy
dear, I’m going for one of my flower-hunts. It’s just the morning for a find.
Matt’s gone riding, so go and make yourself comfortable in the study and we’ll
all have breakfast together. Six-thirty sharp.’

She was away across the
misty lawn, with her black hair shining and her white cardigan flashing above
the skirt of her red dress, Freddy felt untold guilt. There was something
forgotten, many things forgotten, but one thing overlooked, cast aside.
Sometimes he felt he was drawing near to recalling what it was. Hotter and
hotter — as in a game of blind-man’s-buff or … Joe Ramdez had called at the
house last Friday while Matt and Joanna were out. He had specifically wanted to
speak to Freddy about joining his wretched insurance scheme. ‘I’m under medical
attention at the moment,’ Freddy said. ‘I couldn’t think of it.’ They had sat
in Matt’s study. The man Ramdez had been shown in deferentially by the
Cartwrights’ servant, and Freddy did not feel in a position to excuse himself
from the interview. Ramdez had said some disturbing things. ‘Mr Hamilton,’ he
had said, ‘you enjoyed your trip very much, I believe?’

‘Oh,
very,’ said Freddy, hoping for enlightenment, ‘And the young lady? She was
satisfactory?’

‘What
young lady?’ Freddy said.

‘Mr
Hamilton!’

‘I
honestly don’t know who or what you are talking about, Mr Ramdez.’

‘The
young lady, Mr Hamilton, from Morocco. Or was it the better qualified lady who
is best liked of all, and yet she is a local product of the town of Jericho
itself? Whichever, Mr Hamilton, is not important. My house is welcome to all.’
He got up and bent over Freddy to whisper, ‘and to many of your colleagues.
They, too, have poor memories on this point, as it should be with any
gentleman. But they sign my proposal form and join my Trust.’

‘I’m
afraid,’ Freddy said, ‘there must be a mistake, Ramdez. I have no recollection
of meeting ladies or of visiting you. I’m sorry, but that’s that.’

‘I
leave you the proposal form,’ Ramdez said. ‘In the view of your present ill
health it may be that the annual premium comes a fraction steeper. But our
doctor, Russeifa, examines clients with leniency always towards the client for
insurance, not the company.’

‘I don’t
want a form, thank you.’

‘So now
I go to see my old friend Mr Hedges at the British Consulate, I am invited to
lunch with him. But I keep discretion of your private affairs, naturally, when
I converse with him.’

Hedges
had been posted elsewhere a few weeks ago. Freddy’s heart smiled again. He had
known it was a bluff, And yet… ‘Say what you like to Hedges,’ he said. ‘Anything
you care.’

It had
been a bluff. And yet there had been moments while Ramdez was talking when
Freddy felt himself coming close to forgotten things. He mentioned the visit to
Matt and Joanna, casually. ‘He was after that ridiculous insurance policy.’
Warmer and warmer… Joanna said, ‘I hope you got rid of him.’

He held
his hand to his head and walked with head bent. He saw the stones beneath his
feet and realized he had been following Joanna from the garden, and was
climbing the hill with Joanna’s red dress visible here and there through the
misty greenery, as she took the winding path upwards. ‘Joanna!’ he called. ‘Joanna!

Come
back, my dear.’ She had turned. ‘Oh, Freddy, do, please —He caught up with her.
‘Joanna,’ he said. ‘You know it’s dangerous up there.’ They were already on
the hill-path that bordered so dangerously on Israeli territory that it was
often said by sensible local people that there would one day be a shooting incident
on that spot. And this was the time of year, in the heat, when border tempers
flared.

She
said, very patiently, ‘I’ve been here before at this hour. One gets marvellous
wild flowers coming from the dew. An hour later, they’re withered. But you see,
Freddy, if I get them by the root and replant them at once in the shade, and
keep them well-watered—’

‘I’m
thinking of the danger,’ Freddy said.

She
said, quickly, ‘There’s going to be no bloodshed. Now do leave me, I like to
have a time to myself before breakfast, you know.’

He
returned down the path while she continued to climb. He had almost reached the
house when he heard a shot resounding on the hillside above him. He turned, and
heard another shot. Then he ran back up the path calling Joanna, and gouging up
the sand and stones with his shoes as he ran. She didn’t reply to his call. He
couldn’t see her, and he was approaching the flat summit of the hill. She was
nowhere. He looked all round. Then he saw by the side of the path a few yards
below, a red movement, a crawling. He had run past her and missed her. ‘Freddy
get down, lie down,’ she screamed at him as he came towards her. ‘There’s
something going on.’ He bent and walked back from the path, and crouched down. ‘Are
you all right?’ he said. ‘Yes, but I damn near got hit. There’s something going
on down there. I saw something.’

‘That
dress of yours is an easy target,’ Freddy said.

‘Shut
up.’

‘Joanna
dear!’

‘We’ll
wait a few more minutes, then if it’s quiet we’ll beat it,’ she said.

‘I saw
your dress. I thought it was blood.’

‘I’ve
got a bloody cut knee. Does that satisfy you, Freddy?’

He
raised himself sufficiently to see part of the valley below. Then he moved
closer to the path.

‘Take
care,’ Joanna said. ‘I saw some men moving down there just as the first shot
whizzed up at me.’

‘I can
see three of the border guard down there. They’re looking at a plough or a
cart or something,’ Freddy said.

‘Are
they Jordanian or Israelis?’

‘I’ve
no idea. Does it matter?’

‘Not in
the least. Anyway, they were firing up at me, and I was looking down the
valley. I heard a sort of noise and then I saw two men coming out of the mist,
then it looked as if one of them was dragging the other. Why did they fire at
me?’

‘I
suppose they heard a suspicious noise, saw your dress and fired.’

‘The
second bullet went right over my head, quite close. I felt it.’

The two men, one dragging
the other, were not two men, but Abdul and Barbara. They had reached the bottom
of their hill and were about to cross the field that led straight to the hill
they were to climb, into Israel, when Abdul saw distant shadows moving among
some trees bordering the farthest side of the field. He stopped immediately.
The stopping of the wheel-creaks must itself have sent suspicion to the alert
ears of the guard. Abdul un-harnessed himself from the cart and said to
Barbara, ‘Climb out.’ She did so immediately. He took her hand and said, ‘Run.’
She ran, but not fast enough for him. Presently, he was half-dragging her. A
shot was fired, resounding on another side of the hill to their left. Another
shot, far away from them, followed it. Abdul stopped. They had got half-way up
the hill they had descended.

He
pushed Barbara off the path, and told her to lie flat. Nothing else occurred,
but below them they could hear voices. ‘My sandals,’ Abdul said. They’ve got
my stock of sandals.’

‘My
legs have got scraped,’ Barbara said, still in a daze. ‘They feel awful.’ She
had felt no fear. There had been no time to feel anything.

She
limped with him back to the house near the Potter’s Field, passing on their way
the monk at his door, feeding his chickens as if no shots had been fired.

When they had cleaned up
Barbara’s legs, which were less damaged than were the shredded toes of her
shoes where they had been scraped from the dragging, and when Abdul had thrown
cold well-water over his head, and they were able to sit down and speak in
small gusts to each other or to themselves, it was plain that Abdul’s pride, as
well as his sandals, was lost.

Barbara
said, ‘I’m going to the British Consulate to give myself up. After all, what
crime have I committed? I’m entitled to protection.’

Abdul
said only, ‘Quiet! I make a plan in my head.’

‘No,’
she said. ‘The sensible thing for me to do is to go to the Consulate. I’ve had
the pilgrimage, and that’s what I came for, after all.’

‘Yes,
you had the pilgrimage, Miss. And what about me? What of us?’

‘Must
you go back? Can’t you stay here?’

‘Yes,
and be a Palestine refugee in a camp, thank you so much, Miss. They look for me
here, besides. I am known, and hated also. When the Arab hates he hates well.
They say I’m an Israeli spy, as they say of you, Miss.’

‘Oh,
Abdul, don’t call me Miss.’

He
said, ‘Look, Barbara, if you want to go to the British Consulate, O.K. But
they ask you to talk, where have you been, and with whom.’

‘I need
not answer. They’ll probably ask me the same in Israel.’

‘In
Israel they don’t need answers from you to satisfy the police. In Jordan your
embassy needs these answers, or they will be unwilling to help you. The Jordanians
make difficulties unless they know where exactly you have been, and who it was
with. They will never believe a pilgrimage, a fever. Who goes on a pilgrimage
like this? You went like a spy, and they’ll arrest Suzi and take my father’s
house at Jericho, and his wives, if you tell the facts. And if you don’t tell
the facts there is trouble for you from your own government. Who believes all
this hiding for a pilgrimage?’

She
said, ‘Yes, I understand. You make trouble for me, I make trouble—’

‘Who
believes?’

‘I
understand. Abdul, let’s eat something.’

‘You
have seen the mice?’

‘What
mice?’

‘When
we came in there was mice on the table eating this bread. You didn’t see, but I
did.’ They had left their bread and cheese from the night before exposed on the
table.