Don't Look Now (27 page)

'That lovely herbacous border!' said Miss Dean.

'Yes, and the rock plants too. They make quite a show the whole year through.'

The slow footsteps passed without stopping, neither woman looking to right or left, so intent were they upon the rough path under their feet. For one moment their two figures were sharply outlined against the trees beyond, then they turned the corner as Robin had done, and Babcock, and disappeared.

Colonel Mason let them go without calling them back. Then he turned up the collar of his coat, for it seemed suddenly colder, and began to retrace his steps slowly towards the hotel above. He had nearly made the ascent when he bumped into two other members of the party coming down.

'Hullo,' said Jim Foster, 'you crying off already? I thought you'd be in Jerusalem by now!'

'Turned very cold,' said the Colonel shortly. 'Not much sense in stumping on down to the bottom. You'll find the others scattered about the hillside.'

He climbed on past them towards the hotel with a hasty goodnight.

'Now, if he runs into my wife up there and tells her you and I are together we shall be in trouble,' said Jim Foster. 'Willing to risk it?'

'Risk what?' asked Jill Smith. 'We're not doing anything.'

'Now that, my girl, is what I call a direct invitation. Never mind, Kate can console your husband in the bar. Watch your step, this path is steep. The slippery slope to ruin for the pair of us. Don't leave go of my arm.'

Jill threw off her head-scarf and drew a deep breath, clinging tightly to her companion.

'Look at all the city lights,' she said. 'I bet there's plenty going on up there. Makes me feel envious. We seem to be stuck at the back of beyond up here.'

'Don't worry. You'll see it all tomorrow, led by his reverence.

But I doubt if he'll take you into a discotheque, if that's what you're after.'

'Well, naturally we must see the historical part first--that's why we're here, isn't it? But I want to go to the shopping centre too.'

'Suks, my girl, suks. Lot of little trinket-booths in back alleys with dark-eyed young salesmen trying to pinch your bottom.'

'Oh, you think I'd let them, do you?'

'I don't know. But I wouldn't blame them for trying.'

He glanced back over his shoulder. No sign of Kate. Perhaps she had decided against joining the expedition after all. The last he had seen of her was the back of her figure making for the lift en route for their room. As for Bob Smith, if he couldn't keep an eye on his bride that was his lookout. The clump of trees on the other side of the wall further down the path looked enticing. Just the right spot for a little harmless fun.

'What do you make of marriage, Jill?' he asked.

'It's too early to say,' she answered, instantly on the defensive.

'Of course it is. Silly question. But most honeymoons are a flop. I know mine was. It took Kate and me months to get adjusted. That Bob of yours is a great fellow, but he's still very young. All bridegrooms suffer from nerves, you know, even in these enlightened days. Think they know it all, but they damn well don't, and the poor girls suffer for it in consequence.' She did not answer, and he steered her towards the trees. 'It's not until a man has been married for some time that he knows how to make his wife respond. It's technique, like everything else in life--not a question of letting nature take its course. And all women vary. Their moods, their likes and dislikes. Am I shocking you?'

'Oh no,' she said, 'not at all.'

'Good. I wouldn't want to shock you. You're far too sweet and precious for that. I don't see any sign of the others, do you?'

'No.'

'Let's go and lean against the wall down there, and look at the city lights. Wonderful spot. Wonderful evening. Does Bob ever tell you how lovely you are? Because it's true, you know....'

Kate Foster, who had been upstairs to take her hormone pills, came down to the lounge to look for her husband. When she couldn't find him she went into the bar, and saw Bob Smith all alone, drinking a double whisky.

'Where is everybody?' she asked. 'Our lot, I mean,' for the room was still crowded.

'Gone out, I think,' he answered.

'What about your wife?'

'Oh yes, she went. She followed Lady Althea and Miss Dean. Your husband was with her.'

'I see.'

She did see, too. Only too well. Jim had deliberately given her the slip when she went upstairs.

'Well, it won't do you any good sitting there drinking that poison,' she said. 'I suggest you get your coat and come with me and join the rest of the party. No sense in mooning here on your own.'

Perhaps she was right. Perhaps it was wet and ineffectual to sit drinking all alone when by rights Jill should have been with him. But the way she had smiled at Foster was more than he could stand, and he had thought, by staying here, that it would be a sort of lesson to her. In fact, he had only been punishing himself. Jill probably couldn't care less.

'All right,' he said, sliding off the stool, 'we'll go after them. They can't have gone far.'

They set off together down the path that led to the valley, a strangely ill-assorted couple, Bob Smith long and lanky, a mop of dark hair nearly touching his shoulders, hands thrust deep in the pockets of his coat, and Kate Foster in her mink jacket, gold earrings dangling beneath blue-rinsed hair.

'If you ask me,' she said, as she stumped down the path in her unsuitable shoes, 'this whole outing to Jerusalem has been a mistake. Nobody is really interested in the place. Except perhaps Miss Dean. But you know what Lady Althea is, she had everything arranged with the vicar, and has to play lady of the manor whether she's in England, on board ship or in the Middle East. As for Babcock, he's worse than useless. We'd have been better without him. And as for you two ... Well, it's hardly the best start for married life to let your wife do just as she pleases all the time. You want to show a little authority.'

'Jill's very young,' he said, 'barely twenty.'

'Oh, youth ... Don't talk to me about youth. You all have it too good these days. In our country, anyway. Very different for some of the youngsters in this part of the world--I'm thinking of the Arab countries in particular--where husbands keep a tight watch on their brides to make sure they don't get into trouble.'

I don't know why I'm saying all this, she thought, it won't sink in. They none of them think of anyone but themselves. If only I didn't feel things so acutely, it does no good, I make myself ill with worry about everything--the state of the world, the future, Jim ... Where on earth has he got to with that girl? My heart keeps missing a beat. I wonder if those pills suit me ...?

'Don't walk so fast,' she said. 'I can't keep up with you.'

'I'm sorry, Mrs Foster. I thought I saw two figures in the distance over by those trees.'

And if it is them, he wondered, what of it? I mean, what can I do? I can't make a scene just because Jill chose to wander out of the hotel with another member of the party. I shall have to hang about and say nothing, and then wait until we're back at the hotel and give her hell. If only this bloody woman would stop talking for one moment....

The two figures turned out to be Lady Althea and Miss Dean. 'Have you seen Jim?' Kate Foster called.

'No,' replied Lady Althea. 'I was just wondering what's happened to Phil. I wish our menfolk wouldn't tear off in this way. It's so inconsiderate. I do think Babcock at least should have waited for us.'

'So different from dear Father,' murmured Miss Dean. 'He would have had it all so well organised, and known just what to show us. As it is, we don't know whether the Garden of Gethsemane is further on along this path or all around us as we stand here.'

The trees beyond the wall were so very dark, and the path seemed to get stonier and stonier. If Father had been with them she could have leant on his arm. Lady Althea was being very kind, but it wasn't the same.

'I'll go on,' said Bob. 'You three stay here.'

He strode ahead of them down the path. If the rest of the party were all together, they couldn't be far away. The Colonel would be in charge, he would keep an eye on Jill.

There was a break in the trees about a hundred yards ahead, and open ground, with clumps of small olives and rough unbroken soil, nothing looking like a garden, what a bloody silly expedition anyway, and all to do over again tomorrow. Then he saw a figure, only one, though, humped against a piece of rock. It was Babcock. For one embarrassed moment Bob thought he was praying, and then he saw that he was bent over a notebook, scribbling with the aid of a torch. He lifted his head at the sound of Bob's footsteps and waved the torch.

'Where are the others?' called Bob.

'The Colonel's up behind you on the road,' returned Babcock, 'and the boy's down there. where he can get a better view of Gethsemane. But the garden itself is shut. It doesn't really matter, though. You can get the atmosphere from here.' He smiled in a rather shamefaced fashion as Bob approached him. 'If I don't write down what I see, I shan't remember it. Robin lent me his torch. I want to lecture about this when I get home. Well, not a straight lecture. Just my impressions to the lads.'

Have you seen Jill?' asked Bob.

Babcock stared. Jill ... Oh yes, his young wife.

'No,' he said. 'Isn't she with you?'

'You can see she isn't with me,' Bob almost shouted in exasperation. 'And there are only Mrs Foster and Lady Althea and Miss Dean up the road.'

'Oh,' said Babcock. 'Well, I'm afraid I can't help you. The Colonel is around somewhere. I came on alone with the boy.'

Bob could feel the anger mounting within him. 'Look here,' he said, 'I don't mean to be rude, but just who is in charge of this outfit'?'

The Rev. Babcock flushed. There was no call for Bob Smith to get so excited.

'There's no question of anybody being in charge,' he said. 'The Colonel and Robin and I left the hotel on our own. If the rest of you chose to follow on and got lost, I'm afraid it's your own affair.'

He was used to rough talk from the lads, but this was different. Anyone would think he was a paid courier.

'I'm sorry,' said Bob. 'The fact is ...' The fact was he had never felt more helpless, more alone. Weren't parsons supposed to help one in trouble? 'The fact is, I'm worried stiff. Everything's gone wrong. I had one hell of a row with Jill before dinner, and I can't think straight.'

Babcock put down his notebook and extinguished his torch. No more impressions of Gethsemane tonight. Well, it couldn't be helped.

'I'm sorry to hear that,' he said, 'but it happens all the time, you know. Young married couples have arguments, and they feel it's the end of the world. You'll both look at it differently in the morning.'

'No,' said Bob, 'that's just it. I don't think we shall. I keep wondering if we haven't made a terrible mistake in getting married.'

His companion was silent. The poor chap was overtired, probably. He had let things get on top of him. It was difficult to give advice when one didn't know either of them. If things hadn't been going too well, the vicar of Little Bletford should have spotted it and had a word with them both. He probably would have, if he had been here, and not on the boat in Haifa.

'Well,' he said, 'marriage is give and take, you know. It's not just ... how shall I put it? It's not just a physical relationship.' 'It's the physical side of it that's gone wrong,' said Bob Smith. 'I see.'

Babcock wondered if he should advise the lad to see a doctor when he got home. There was nothing much that could be done about it here tonight.

'Look,' he said, 'don't worry too much. Take it easy. Be as gentle as you can with your wife, and perhaps ...'

But he couldn't continue, for at that moment a small figure darted up from the trees below. It was Robin.

'The actual Garden of Gethsemane looks very small,' he called. 'I feel sure Jesus and the disciples wouldn't have sat down there. They would more likely have climbed up here, amongst all the olive trees that were growing in those days. What puzzles me, Mr Babcock, is why the disciples kept falling asleep, if it was as cold as it is tonight. Do you suppose the climate has changed in two thousand years? Or could the disciples have had too much wine at supper?'

Babcock handed Robin back his torch and pushed him gently along the homeward path. 'We don't know, Robin, but we have to remember they had all had a long and very exhausting day.'

That's not the right answer, he thought, but it's the best I can do. And I haven't helped Bob Smith either. Nor was I particularly sympathetic to the Colonel. The trouble is, I don't know any of these people. Their own vicar would have known how to deal with them. Even if he had given them quite the wrong answers they would have been satisfied.

'There they are,' said Robin, 'standing in a huddle up the road and stamping their feet. That's the most sensible way to try and keep awake.'

It was Lady Althea who was stamping her feet. She had wisely changed into sensible shoes before setting forth. Kate Foster was not so well shod, but she scored over Lady Althea by being well wrapped-up in her mink jacket. Miss Dean was a little apart from them both. She had found a break in the wall, and was sitting on a pile of crumbling stones. She had become rather weary of listening to her two companions, who could discuss nothing except the whereabouts of their respective husbands.

I'm glad I never married, she thought. There always seems to be such endless argument going on between husband and wife. I dare say some marriages are ideal, but very few. It was very sad for dear Father losing his wife all those years ago, but he has never tried to replace her. She smiled tenderly, thinking of the manly smell in the vicar's study. He smoked a pipe, and whenever Miss Dean called, which she generally did twice a week to bring flowers to brighten up his bachelor solitude, or with a special cake she had baked, or a jar of homemade jam or marmalade, she would give a quick look through the open door of the study to see if his housekeeper had tidied it properly, brought some sort of order to the chaos of books and papers. Men were such boys, they needed looking after. That was why Mary and Martha invited Our Lord so often to Bethany. They probably fed Him well after those long walks across the hills, mended His clothes--darned His socks, she was about to say, but of course men didn't wear socks in those days, only sandals. What a blessed honour it must have been to soak the travel-stained garments in the wash-tub....