in
midwinter
, dammit, and of course the obvious danger. But if you do decide to go, there will be one good thing about it.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I am going anyway, to report on it for
The Morning Post.’
‘What! Don’t be ridiculous.’
Calmly, she withdrew a cable from from her handbag and handed it to him. He read aloud:
AGREE YOU ACCOMPANY TIBET MISSION STOP AM ARRANGING WITH C-IN-C YOUR ACCREDITATION STOP STAY OUT OF DANGER STOP REPEAT STAY OUT OF DANGER STOP. REGARDS BAXTER EDITOR STOP
Simon blew out his cheeks. ‘The bloody fool! How can you stay out of danger on an armed invasion! The Tibetans are bound to resist. Of course you cannot go.’
Alice smiled sweetly. ‘And
you
will go, my love …?’
Fonthill squirmed slightly in his chair. ‘I really think I must. This is a direct appeal to me to help. Reading between the lines, I think Curzon would like me, as his representative, to be some sort of smoothing influence between this chap Younghusband and the Brigadier, Macdonald, if things go a bit wrong between them. Bring my … er … experience to bear and so forth …’ he tailed away. ‘But look here, Alice, we have had this debate so many times. You are the best and bravest war correspondent, irrespective of gender, in all of the world, but, my darling, this campaign would be just one too far for you, I fear. Some of these passes are … what? … 14,000 feet up and, as you say, we would have to forge through them in midwinter, and probably in the face of quite fierce opposition. A woman has no place in that sort of territory. You would be, damn it all, you would be, well,’ he coughed, ‘an embarrassment.’
A silence fell on the room broken only by a shrill call in Hindi in the distance.
Alice spoke eventually, in icy tones. ‘An embarrassment, eh? How strange, but I don’t remember you using that word when I materialised out of that bloody desert in the Sudan to rescue you and Jenkins from the Mahdi. If I remember rightly, you were rather glad to see me.’
‘Ah yes, well. Now, don’t be silly, darling, that was different. You know. The temperature here is bound to drop below zero, I would think, and we will be under canvas. You would be … ahem … we would be the oldest people there. Even the senior officers will be younger. Think about it, darling. You were younger in the Sudan …’
Alice slapped the table and sent the tea cups rattling. ‘And so were you, Simon. I am damned if I am going to stay here growing bloody tea while you invade Tibet. I am going with you and that’s the end of it.’
The two sat scowling at each other until, eventually, Simon could no longer stop the smile from creeping across his face. He rose, bent down, kissed her and resumed his seat resignedly. ‘Why do I always lose these damned arguments?’ he asked of the ceiling. ‘I don’t know why I start arguing, I really don’t.’
Alice returned the smile and, leaning across, squeezed his knee. ‘A woman is always right, darling. Always. What about 352’s letter?’
Simon’s reluctant smile was replaced for a moment by a frown. ‘Terrible news about Nandi,’ he said. ‘I was very fond of her. Very fond.’ Then his face brightened. ‘But 352 must come with us. In fact, I wouldn’t dream of going without him. He’ll want to come, of course. Reading between the lines again, I reckon that he may well tire of farming on the veldt – particularly now that Nandi’s gone.’
‘And I have a feeling, my darling,’ Alice’s smile betrayed a little cynicism, ‘that you are just as tired of growing tea in these hills. Am I right?’
Simon shrugged. ‘I have to say, that I am even more certain than ever that I am not really cut out to be a farmer, whether it is pushing up wheat in dear old Norfolk or trying to persuade tea plants to poke their heads above the dust here.’
‘So what will you do?’
‘Jackson up the valley has had his eye on this plantation, ever since we bought it.
midwinter
, dammit, and of course the obvious danger. But if you do decide to go, there will be one good thing about it.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I am going anyway, to report on it for
The Morning Post.’
‘What! Don’t be ridiculous.’
Calmly, she withdrew a cable from from her handbag and handed it to him. He read aloud:
AGREE YOU ACCOMPANY TIBET MISSION STOP AM ARRANGING WITH C-IN-C YOUR ACCREDITATION STOP STAY OUT OF DANGER STOP REPEAT STAY OUT OF DANGER STOP. REGARDS BAXTER EDITOR STOP
Simon blew out his cheeks. ‘The bloody fool! How can you stay out of danger on an armed invasion! The Tibetans are bound to resist. Of course you cannot go.’
Alice smiled sweetly. ‘And
you
will go, my love …?’
Fonthill squirmed slightly in his chair. ‘I really think I must. This is a direct appeal to me to help. Reading between the lines, I think Curzon would like me, as his representative, to be some sort of smoothing influence between this chap Younghusband and the Brigadier, Macdonald, if things go a bit wrong between them. Bring my … er … experience to bear and so forth …’ he tailed away. ‘But look here, Alice, we have had this debate so many times. You are the best and bravest war correspondent, irrespective of gender, in all of the world, but, my darling, this campaign would be just one too far for you, I fear. Some of these passes are … what? … 14,000 feet up and, as you say, we would have to forge through them in midwinter, and probably in the face of quite fierce opposition. A woman has no place in that sort of territory. You would be, damn it all, you would be, well,’ he coughed, ‘an embarrassment.’
A silence fell on the room broken only by a shrill call in Hindi in the distance.
Alice spoke eventually, in icy tones. ‘An embarrassment, eh? How strange, but I don’t remember you using that word when I materialised out of that bloody desert in the Sudan to rescue you and Jenkins from the Mahdi. If I remember rightly, you were rather glad to see me.’
‘Ah yes, well. Now, don’t be silly, darling, that was different. You know. The temperature here is bound to drop below zero, I would think, and we will be under canvas. You would be … ahem … we would be the oldest people there. Even the senior officers will be younger. Think about it, darling. You were younger in the Sudan …’
Alice slapped the table and sent the tea cups rattling. ‘And so were you, Simon. I am damned if I am going to stay here growing bloody tea while you invade Tibet. I am going with you and that’s the end of it.’
The two sat scowling at each other until, eventually, Simon could no longer stop the smile from creeping across his face. He rose, bent down, kissed her and resumed his seat resignedly. ‘Why do I always lose these damned arguments?’ he asked of the ceiling. ‘I don’t know why I start arguing, I really don’t.’
Alice returned the smile and, leaning across, squeezed his knee. ‘A woman is always right, darling. Always. What about 352’s letter?’
Simon’s reluctant smile was replaced for a moment by a frown. ‘Terrible news about Nandi,’ he said. ‘I was very fond of her. Very fond.’ Then his face brightened. ‘But 352 must come with us. In fact, I wouldn’t dream of going without him. He’ll want to come, of course. Reading between the lines again, I reckon that he may well tire of farming on the veldt – particularly now that Nandi’s gone.’
‘And I have a feeling, my darling,’ Alice’s smile betrayed a little cynicism, ‘that you are just as tired of growing tea in these hills. Am I right?’
Simon shrugged. ‘I have to say, that I am even more certain than ever that I am not really cut out to be a farmer, whether it is pushing up wheat in dear old Norfolk or trying to persuade tea plants to poke their heads above the dust here.’
‘So what will you do?’
‘Jackson up the valley has had his eye on this plantation, ever since we bought it.
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