A Proper Marriage (42 page)

The insignificant, dreary little dorp seemed to him what he was returning to — this would be his life now. There stirred a small thought of Martha; he let it die again, and a
pang of fondness for her went with it. What he felt for Martha was nothing, nothing at all compared with his year among soldiers. Rage filled him. He was filled with a need to tear, to destroy - he stood still, fists clenching and unclenching, his mind teeming images of destruction. Next morning he would be put on the plane home; he would step straight off the plane into domesticity and the office from eight to four.

A sharp pain stabbed in his stomach; he remembered he had an obligation towards himself. He went inside, and spooned out two of the cold wet eggs on to bread, and began to eat the insipid mess with disgust. He saw a pepper pot standing on the tray, and shook pepper violently all over the eggs, with a savage delight in disobeying prohibitions. Feeling slightly sick at last, he went back to the veranda, thinking he might sleep. Then he saw across the square a black-lettered sign on a small store: ‘Joseph’s Bar’.

He walked over and went in.

A fat, pale Greek youth was wiping glasses behind the bar. There was no one else in the place. Douglas asked for ginger beer and sat down. There was a single round table against the wall opposite the bar counter, with half a dozen upright wood chairs around it. In peacetime an occasional merchant or government official passed through; the bar was used by them and the local storekeepers.

Douglas took a mouthful of the prickly tepid ginger beer and let it stand. A loud offhand voice was heard just out of sight. Then Bobby came slowly past the open doorway. Her pale hair was now tidy, and bobbing up at the ends. She did not look in. Douglas called out, ‘Hey there, Bobby.’ She gave a start, but began to smile before she saw him. Douglas grinned proudly at the thought that she must have watched him enter the bar.

She came in and sat down. She was flushed with the heat. She asked for a whisky, and Douglas’s mouth filled unpleasantly as she began sipping it. Then she crossed her legs, blew out smoke, and fixed her pale-grey eyes attentively on him. The top buttons of her tunic were undone. Under it he could see a thin pink strap, rather grubby, loose on her
shoulder. He felt a mixture of tenderness and repulsion at the sight.

‘So you’ve had it - bad luck,’ she remarked in the jocular loud voice which she had decided was suitable to her role as female soldier. But she looked sympathetic.

Douglas began to talk. After a while she asked after Martha. He produced photographs. Caroline stood on two sturdy legs smiling attractively up at her father from the small card square.

‘That’s a fine kid,’ Bobby said sentimentally, and refixed her eyes on his at once. In her attitude was something touchingly devotional. She appeared to be saying that she was completely at his service.

She ordered a second whisky. His ginger beer was still nearly full. He almost succumbed, and then said, ‘I’d better be strong-minded, hey?’

‘That’s the ticket,’ she said. ‘Mucking bad luck.’

It grated on him; he thought of Martha as a contrast. But the thought of Martha was not balm at all. The truth was, he had been relieved to get away from the atmosphere of bottles and napkins, and, more than this, from Martha’s extraordinary tension during those months, when competent gaiety followed irritated exhaustion, and both seemed in some subtle way a criticism of him. But a more recent doubt was working in him. ‘Heard any news from home?’ he asked her casually.

‘Lazy sods, they don’t write. But I got a letter from Bogie – you remember Bogie? She says she’s having a wonderful time with the boys from Home.’

Douglas said with a quick laugh, ‘Yes, they all seem to be giving it stick, all right.’ But his gaze still rested on her face with persistent suspicious inquiry, and she went on:

‘I heard that Bella’s marrying the Air Force, old Sam’s breaking his heart over it.’

‘Pretty bad show, that.’

‘I heard news of Matty, come to think of it. She was at a dance at the air camp.’

‘Oh, yes, she told me about it,’ he said with an effort, frowning.

‘Matty was always one for the boys. Lucky Matty, she hasn’t got a figure like a sack of potatoes,’ she said, and laughed painfully.

‘Oh, you do fine,’ he responded after a pause. He looked unhappily round. ‘I think I’ll be a devil and have a drink,’ he said. He went over to the fat silent Greek, who polished glasses and watched these evidences of world war with an unquenchable curiosity. He fetched back two whiskies.

‘Here’s to the Army,’ he said with quiet misery. He drained his down, and sat grinning at her. ‘Well, I’m all right, how are you doing, are you all right?’

She drained her third quickly, and responded to the rallying call. ‘Oh, I’m all right, I’m fine, are you all right?’

He took the two glasses to the counter to be refilled. She watched him, smiling maternally. He came back and this time sat in the chair next to her. ‘Let’s give it a bang. Let’s give it stick.’

‘Oh, you’re a crazy kid.’

She began questioning him again about up north, with an eager determination to hear every detail, prompting him when he hesitated on the edge of something he would normally gloss over for a woman. It was as if she were taking part by proxy. She listened, her pale-pink lips slightly open in a wistful greed. At first he was gruffly disapproving, then he let it go and softened to her. Poor old Bobby, she was having a bad time in this dorp, she was a nice kid.

A shadow fell over them. Perry stood at the door, stooping inwards. Behind him the sun was sending up a last wild flare of red into the soft grey sky. The dust expanse had shrunk and dimmed. A group of Africans walking through had a soft and distant look in this thin light, and their voices were high and excited: they were hurrying to get indoors before the night came down.

Perry looked at them. Douglas noted that he was rather yellow, his eyes were inflamed, but he seemed quiet enough. He looked at the whiskies and said, ‘That’s an idea.’ He went to the bar, nodded at the Greek, drained his glass with slow determined thirst, handed the glass back. He leaned on his elbow watching them. He took his second glass and stood
there holding it for a while untasted, while the Greek took an oil lamp off the iron hook suspended from a rafter in the middle of the room, removed the glass funnel, lit the wick, fitted back the funnel, and hung the lamp up again. It swung steadily. A drop of paraffin dropped to the brick floor, then another. The smell of paraffin was strong.

The Greek returned to the other side of the counter. Perry still leaned there considering the seated couple, as if from a long distance. He looked very handsome beside the pale, fat youth with his sad olive-coloured eyes; conventionally handsome - square-jawed, hard-mouthed, strong. He was looking now direct at Bobby, and she shifted uncomfortably under it, fiddling with her bobs of pale hair.

‘Come and sit down, man, damn it,’ said Douglas.

Perry at once came across and sat down, as if he had needed an invitation. He gazed steadily at Bobby until she met his eyes.

‘So you’ll be going on up north?’

‘Yes, next month.’

‘Following the Army?’

‘That’s my job.’

‘Nice work if you can get it.’

She gave a nervous look at Douglas, who laughed and said, ‘Come off it, Perry man.’

Perry laughed, a calculated silent heave from his chest, and fingered his glass while he looked at Bobby. She had wriggled her chair an inch nearer to Douglas, but she was looking, fascinated, over at Perry and she was flushed.

The orderly came in, addressing Perry and Douglas equally. ‘Baas, shall I bring your dinner here?’

‘Get out,’ said Perry.

‘It’s OK, Jim,’ said Douglas quickly.

The man backed and vanished into the now thick dusk.

‘What’ve you got to eat?’ said Perry loudly to the barman.

‘We don’t cook.’

‘So, you don’t?’

‘There’s the mess. Since the war started there’s been only the Army.’

Perry’s jaw was thrust out. Seeing it, Douglas appealed,
‘Couldn’t you do us something? We’re fed to the teeth with army grub.’

The Greek hesitated.

‘I want roast chicken, roast potatoes, vegetables, and some jam tart,’ said Perry. He looked steadily over the bar.

The Greek said, ‘I’ll go and ask my father.’ He hurried out.

‘Ruddy dago,’ said Perry. ‘Bad as kaffirs.’ He lifted his glass. ‘Here’s to Civvy Street.’

They all drank. Douglas looked over at Bobby with a tinge of grave reproach. The thread of sympathy that had held them was snapped. She could not take her eyes off Perry. Douglas moved his chair back to the wall, and comforted his glass between both hands. He was beginning to feel the alcohol.

Bobby took a moment’s alarm at being left to Perry. She drank hastily, and spilled some. Perry reached out his large paw and brushed drops off her shoulders. She shrank away.

‘Well, and how’s the war been treating you?’ he asked, on a personal, insulting note.

‘Oh, fine, fine. But it’s mucking boring here, though.’

‘Mucking bad luck, muck everything, hey? You should meet the Ities. They’ve got a far wider range. You should hear their language when they get going. Shouldn’t she, Douggie?’

Douglas looked away, dissociating himself.

‘You mucking well should meet the bleeding Ities, then you wouldn’t have to restrict yourself to bleeding mucking.’

She looked at him with a helpless fascination still, and let out her short gruff laugh.

‘Let up, man,’ said Douglas again, disgusted. ‘Stop it.’

Perry took no notice. ‘Still, you’ve not done too badly here, there’s the Major and the doctor and the sergeant.’

She took his direct gaze and said, ‘You don’t do too badly, either. There’s nothing you can tell me about what the boys do away from their wives.’

‘But I’m not married, so that’s all right. Thank God. She’d be lining the beds of the Air Force.’

She forced out another laugh. He leaned forward, gripped
her wrist and said, ‘Remember Christmas night three years ago at the Club - remember?’ ‘And so what?’ she said, laughing.

He released her, frowned and said softly, ‘We had a good time then, didn’t we?’

Those were the days,’ said Douglas, half jocular, half wistful; they instinctively lifted their glasses to the good old days. Then Perry reached out his enormous arm over the bar, tilted the whisky bottle standing on it, caught it as it heeled, and brought it triumphant to the table.

The young Greek entered with a tray. Roast beef sandwiches, mustard pickles, Marie biscuits, Cheddar cheese. He set it before them and retired silently behind the bar.

‘Have some roast chicken,’ said Douglas cheerfully.

They ate. Perry, steadily watching Bobby over his busy knife and fork, began reminiscing about the bang they’d had this night last week. Douglas played along with him. When it came to how Perry and half a dozen Australians had wrecked the brothel, Douglas smiled uneasily, but Bobby was laughing her good-fellow laugh. Perry stopped, and said disgustedly to Douglas, ‘What do you think, she’d have liked to be there.’ He leaned over, pushed his face against hers and said, ‘So you’d have liked to be with us, hey?’

She pulled back her head, and said, ‘Oh, cut it out, Perry, you’re getting me down.’

‘Nice girl,’ he remarked companionably to the roof. ‘Nice girl, this one.’

Douglas leaned over to her, and whispered, ‘If you want to make your escape, then go, Bobby. He’s been kicked out of the Army, that’s all that’s wrong with him.’

She turned a small, rather offended smile. ‘I know, poor kid.’ She at once drew back towards Perry. Her lips were parted. She passed the tip of a pink tongue across them.

Perry was looking at the doctor, who had just come in. The doctor nodded at them all, and stood by the bar.

‘Come and join us, Doc,’ said Douglas.

Thanks, but I’m on duty.’ He asked for a brandy, and stood leaning by the bar, watching Perry. He said nothing, however.

‘How are the boys, Doctor?’ asked Bobby, one professional to another.

‘Bedded them all down for the night. The plane’s leaving at six tomorrow morning.’ He looked steadily at Perry and Douglas.

Perry ostentatiously tilted back his glass, emptied it, filled it again.

‘Six o’clock,’ said the doctor sharply. ‘And anyone who’s not ready can spend another three weeks here. If that tempts you.’

‘We’ll be ready, Doc,’ said Douglas.

The three were set in hostile defiance against him; they were looking at him across a barrier of half-drunkenness.

‘Parsons everywhere,’ said Perry to Bobby intimately. ‘Have you noticed it? Everywhere you go in this world - parsons. Hate their guts. Only to smell a parson half a mile away gives me guts-ache.’