Major Hound?’
‘I understand he was reported missing.’
‘Not a prisoner?’
‘Forgive me Mr – Captain Crouchback. I am not in Records.’
‘And the sapper who got the boat going. I was awfully ill – so was he – delirious.’
‘You were delirious too.’
‘Yes. Did you rescue the sapper too?’
‘I understand he was reported lost at sea.’
‘Look,’ said Guy, ‘are you doing anything for dinner?’
It was as though Banquo had turned host.
‘No,’ said Ludovic. ‘No,’ and without apology or a word of farewell to Guy or Spruce or Frankie, he made precipitately for the stairs, the front door and the sheltering blackout.
‘What on earth happened to him?’ asked Spruce. ‘He can’t have been drunk. What did you say to him?’
‘Nothing. I asked him about old times.’
‘You knew him well?’
‘Not exactly. We always thought him odd.’
‘He has talent,’ said Spruce. ‘Perhaps a hint of genius. It’s most annoying his disappearing like that. Well, the party’s over. Will you girls shoo the guests away and then clear up? I have to go.’
Guy spent the remaining hours of his fortieth birthday at Bellamy’s playing ‘slosh’. When he returned to his room at the Transit Camp his thoughts were less on the past than on the future.
Unheard in Bellamy’s the sirens sounded an alert at eleven o’clock and an ‘all clear’ before midnight.
Unheard too in Westminster Abbey where the Sword of Stalingrad stood unattended. The doors were locked, the lights all extinguished. Next day the queue would form again in the street and the act of homage would be renewed.
Ludovic was not successful in the
Time and Tide
literary competition. His sonnet was not even commended. He studied the winning entry:
… Here lies the sword. Ah, but the work is rare,
Precious the symbol. Who has understood
How close the evil or how dread the good
Who scorns the vestures that the angels wear?
He could make no sense of it. Was the second ‘who’ a relative pronoun with ‘good’ as its antecedent? He compared his own lucid sonnet:
Stele of my past on which engravéd are
The pleadings of that long divorce of steel,
In which was stolen that directive star,
By which I sailed, expunged be. No spar,
No mast, no halyard, bowsprit, boom or keel
Survives my wreck …
Perhaps, he reflected, the lines were not strictly appropriate to the occasion. He had failed to reflect the popular mood. It was too personal for
Time and Tide
. He would send it to
Survival
.
BOOK TWO
Fin de Ligne
1
VIRGINIA Troy had not been in his house ten days before Ian Kilbannock began to ask: ‘When is she going?’
‘I don’t mind having her,’ said Kerstie. ‘She’s not costing us much.’
‘But she isn’t contributing anything.’
‘I couldn’t ask Virginia to do that. She was awfully decent to us when she was rich.’
‘That’s a long time ago. I’ve had Trimmer shipped to America. I just don’t understand why she has to stay here. The other girls used to pay their share.’
‘I might suggest it to her.’
‘As soon as you can.’
But when Virginia returned that evening she brought news which put other thoughts out of Kerstie’s head.
‘I’ve just been to my lawyers,’ she said. ‘They’ve got the copy of all Mr Troy’s divorce evidence. Who do you think collected it?’
‘Who?’
‘Three guesses.’
‘I can’t think of anyone.’
‘That disgusting Loot.’
‘It’s not possible.’
‘Apparently he’s a member of the firm who works for Mr Troy. He still does odd jobs for them in his spare time.’
‘After we’ve all been so kind to him! Are you going to give him away?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘People ought to be warned.’
‘It’s all our own fault for taking him up. He always gave me the creeps.’
‘A thing like this,’ said Kerstie, ‘destroys one’s faith in human nature.’
‘Oh, the Loot isn’t human.’
‘No, I suppose not really.’
‘He made a
‘I understand he was reported missing.’
‘Not a prisoner?’
‘Forgive me Mr – Captain Crouchback. I am not in Records.’
‘And the sapper who got the boat going. I was awfully ill – so was he – delirious.’
‘You were delirious too.’
‘Yes. Did you rescue the sapper too?’
‘I understand he was reported lost at sea.’
‘Look,’ said Guy, ‘are you doing anything for dinner?’
It was as though Banquo had turned host.
‘No,’ said Ludovic. ‘No,’ and without apology or a word of farewell to Guy or Spruce or Frankie, he made precipitately for the stairs, the front door and the sheltering blackout.
‘What on earth happened to him?’ asked Spruce. ‘He can’t have been drunk. What did you say to him?’
‘Nothing. I asked him about old times.’
‘You knew him well?’
‘Not exactly. We always thought him odd.’
‘He has talent,’ said Spruce. ‘Perhaps a hint of genius. It’s most annoying his disappearing like that. Well, the party’s over. Will you girls shoo the guests away and then clear up? I have to go.’
Guy spent the remaining hours of his fortieth birthday at Bellamy’s playing ‘slosh’. When he returned to his room at the Transit Camp his thoughts were less on the past than on the future.
Unheard in Bellamy’s the sirens sounded an alert at eleven o’clock and an ‘all clear’ before midnight.
Unheard too in Westminster Abbey where the Sword of Stalingrad stood unattended. The doors were locked, the lights all extinguished. Next day the queue would form again in the street and the act of homage would be renewed.
Ludovic was not successful in the
Time and Tide
literary competition. His sonnet was not even commended. He studied the winning entry:
… Here lies the sword. Ah, but the work is rare,
Precious the symbol. Who has understood
How close the evil or how dread the good
Who scorns the vestures that the angels wear?
He could make no sense of it. Was the second ‘who’ a relative pronoun with ‘good’ as its antecedent? He compared his own lucid sonnet:
Stele of my past on which engravéd are
The pleadings of that long divorce of steel,
In which was stolen that directive star,
By which I sailed, expunged be. No spar,
No mast, no halyard, bowsprit, boom or keel
Survives my wreck …
Perhaps, he reflected, the lines were not strictly appropriate to the occasion. He had failed to reflect the popular mood. It was too personal for
Time and Tide
. He would send it to
Survival
.
BOOK TWO
Fin de Ligne
1
VIRGINIA Troy had not been in his house ten days before Ian Kilbannock began to ask: ‘When is she going?’
‘I don’t mind having her,’ said Kerstie. ‘She’s not costing us much.’
‘But she isn’t contributing anything.’
‘I couldn’t ask Virginia to do that. She was awfully decent to us when she was rich.’
‘That’s a long time ago. I’ve had Trimmer shipped to America. I just don’t understand why she has to stay here. The other girls used to pay their share.’
‘I might suggest it to her.’
‘As soon as you can.’
But when Virginia returned that evening she brought news which put other thoughts out of Kerstie’s head.
‘I’ve just been to my lawyers,’ she said. ‘They’ve got the copy of all Mr Troy’s divorce evidence. Who do you think collected it?’
‘Who?’
‘Three guesses.’
‘I can’t think of anyone.’
‘That disgusting Loot.’
‘It’s not possible.’
‘Apparently he’s a member of the firm who works for Mr Troy. He still does odd jobs for them in his spare time.’
‘After we’ve all been so kind to him! Are you going to give him away?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘People ought to be warned.’
‘It’s all our own fault for taking him up. He always gave me the creeps.’
‘A thing like this,’ said Kerstie, ‘destroys one’s faith in human nature.’
‘Oh, the Loot isn’t human.’
‘No, I suppose not really.’
‘He made a
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