Ruined City (13 page)

He paused. 'On your part, you will consult with your colleagues, and obtain their views. Then, perhaps, we may meet again to take the matter a stage further.'

'With pleasure,' said the colonel, and paused expectantly.

Warren chose his words carefully. 'I am sure that we can bring about this business if we work together, my dear Colonel,' he said smoothly, 'as business associates. We shall do everything within our power to — satisfy — any reasonable request that you may make.'

Their eyes met. 'I will see what I can do,' said the colonel.

Warren turned and motioned to the waiter for his bill; the colonel surreptitiously pocketed a couple of cigars from the box upon the table. They left the dining-room, and parted with mutual expressions of esteem.

Two days later Warren received a letter from Dr Miller in Sharples. His wireless installation in the hospital was complete; would he care to come down to see it, staying a couple of nights with the doctor? He thought it over for a minute, and decided to go down at the weekend.

He arrived in Sharples late on Friday night, had a whisky and soda with the doctor, and went to bed.

Next morning they drove down to the hospital. 'I feel a bit of an impostor,' said Warren uneasily. 'Does anybody know that I gave the damn thing?'

'Not a soul,' said the surgeon cheerfully. 'I gave out that it was an anonymous donor and that's all they know.' He smiled, 'I don't suppose anyone will recognize you.'

'I hope you're right,' said Warren.

He was not. In the corridor, on their way down to the

installation in the basement, they met Miss MacMahon. She nodded to the surgeon, glanced at Warren, stopped, and stared hard at him.

Warren smiled. 'I'm afraid so,' he said.

She said, 'You are Warren, aren't you?'

'Yes, I'm Warren.'

She smiled. 'Have you come back to pay me your seven pounds?'

The surgeon smiled
.
'You'll have to strike that off your books
.
Mr Warren has already paid that — to me. I dealt with it at the last committee.'

'Oh. Is he the patient who paid a hundred and fifty guineas?'

The surgeon nodded.

She thought for a minute, and then turned to Warren.' 'I suppose you put in the wireless, too. Or was that some other tramp?'

'I'm afraid that was me. But it was supposed to be anonymous.'

'That's all very well,' said Miss MacMahon. 'But we've got the books to keep straight, Mr Williams and I. Somebody's got to know who gives anonymous gifts, or you couldn't cash any cheques. As it is, I don't know what I shall say to Mr Williams about dial seven pounds. You see, it's entered in the ledger. I suppose I shall have to tell him that I can't collect it from you, and he's got to write it off as a bad debt. I'll probably get the sack over it.'

'I'd better pay up.'

'That wouldn't be fair. You'd better let me tell Mr Williams. You see, it's not so easy to hide your light under a bushel.'

He smiled. 'I ought to have stayed in London.'

'That wouldn't have done you any good. I was going to get after you for it next week — you remember you left an address.' She paused. 'I suppose I should have found that you were head of the firm, or something.'

'I suppose you would.'

'Why did you say you were out of a job?'

'I didn't say it first — somebody told me that was what I was — one of the nurses. I thought it was easier to carry on that way.'

She sighed a little. 'I suppose it was a natural mistake. We don't get many of the other sort here these days.'

He nodded slowly. 'I suppose things are still very bad. There's been no improvement?'

She shook her head.

The surgeon said, 'Things are getting terrible, Mr Warren. In the last few months — the place seems to have changed. It's as if the disease had become chronic.'

The Almoner broke in, 'I've noticed that, too, Dr Miller. Last spring, things seemed to pick up a bit. People seemed more cheerful, and the outpatients went down quite a lot. I could show you in the records. But this year it's just flat — the same all the time. The people aren't so . . . so buoyant as they were last year.'

Warren said nothing.

They went down to inspect the apparatus, and then walked through the hospital. In practically every bed the patient was wearing headphones; there was a better atmosphere about the place than Warren had remembered. 'It's made a difference,' said the surgeon. 'There's no doubt about it. And the beauty of it is, it's always new. Hardly any of them have it in their homes. So when they come in here, it gives them something fresh to think about.'

Warren said nothing.

They went back to the entrance hall; Warren turned to the Almoner. 'I'm staying here tonight,' he said, 'with Dr Miller. There are one or two things I'd like to see this afternoon, before I go back. Would you take me down to the shipyard again?'

'Why — certainly, Mr Warren. I'm free.'

He smiled. 'That's terribly good of you. I'll call round for you here at about half-past two.'

He met her at the hospital, and they walked down through the town together. It was a bright, sunny afternoon with a fresh wind; the wind blew through the bare grey streets with all the freshness of the moors behind the town, untainted by the smoke of industry. A few men stood about at street corners and eyed them curiously as they passed; one or two women sat on doorsteps in the sun in sheltered corners. It surprised Warren that in spite of the fine day there were so few people to be seen about, and he said so.

The wind's quite sharp,' said the Almoner, 'and they've got very little resistance to cold. They mostly stay indoors on days like this.'

Warren's heart sank. He might perhaps get orders for a ship or two, but could these people ever build them?

They passed the old watchman with a word, and went into the Yard. To all appearances it was as it had been before, the buildings and the wharves deserted and a little fresh grass growing on the slips. The wind sighed through the derricks and the. gantries overhead. i-vgain Warren got the impression that there was not much wrong with the place; so far as he could see, nothing had been removed before the sale.

'Well, here we are,' said the girl. 'What did you want to see?'

Warren laughed
.
'Just that it was all still here,' he said. 'I don't see much altered since I was here before.'

She smiled, a little bitterly. 'You needn't be afraid of that. You'll see it just the same if you come here next year, or the year after that. Only some of the derricks may have fallen down by then.'

He eyed her for a moment. 'You've lived in Sharples all your life, have you?'

'Most of it. I went away to school, of course. And then I went to Durham University. But my home was always here.' She turned to him. 'You see, I knew it all as it used to be, when you couldn't hear yourself speak standing here, because of the riveters. And then, there was a launch every couple of months or so, with the flags and cheering, and champagne, and everything. And we always used to look at the shipping news in
The Times,
to see where our ships had got to. . . . It makes one feel bad to see it all just rotting away like this.'

He asked, 'What, did you read at Durham?'

'Law,' she said unexpectedly. 'But I never practised.'

He rested one foot upon a baulk of timber, and leaned forward on the knee. 'You ought to get away from here,' he said. 'It's not good for you, or anyone, to spend their life in a dead place like this.'

She nodded. 'That's one way of looking at it, I know.'

'What is the other?'

She raised her head and looked him in the eyes. 'I had a fine time here when I was young,' she said simply. 'From the earliest I can remember, up to the time when I was twenty-five, when the depression came. All those years — I was terribly happy, I knew everybody here, and they were kind, and decent — and it was all so interesting. It's different now, of course, but you've got to take the rough with the smooth.

'I don't say that I'm going to stay here all my life,' she said. 'But I wouldn't want to go away from here till things get right again.'

They moved slowly through the yard, between the heaps of rusty scrap and stinging-nettles, under the towering gantries. A few white-faced children were playing listlessly upon a heap of rotting plate.

'Not a very good place for them to play,' he said. 'They'd get a nasty cut if they fell down on that stuff.'

'They do from time to time. Then we get them up as outpatients — after it's had time to get nicely septic.'

'Can't the watchman keep them out?'

She shook her head. 'There are holes all along the fence where they get in.' She pointed. There.' He nodded. I'll have that seen to.' She turned and stared at him. 'What do you mean — you'll have it seen to?'

'I own this yard,' he said. 'I bought it three weeks ago.' There was a long silence. The gantries overhead raided and groaned a little; somewhere a sheet of corrugated iron was flapping in the wind.

'That's a change, anyway,' she said at last. 'I sometimes thought that nothing would ever happen here again.' She stared at him curiously. 'Who are you, Mr Warren? What do you do?'

'I'm a banker. If you wanted to be rude, you might say that we're an issuing house.'

She wrinkled her brows. 'Does that mean that you start companies?'

He hesitated. 'Sometimes we do that.'

'Are you going to start one here?'

He eyed her for a minute. 'If you were in my shoes, would you go and tell a lot of shareholders that you could make money by building ships here?'

She hesitated. 'I — I don't know.'

'Nor do I,' he said grimly.

'I see it's difficult,' she said. 'But what are you going to do with it, now that you've bought it?'

He shook his head. 'I don't know that I really know myself. I bought it because I was afraid that the National Shipbuilders Security would get hold of it, and close it down for ever. But. . .'

He stared around. 'I don't know what to do with it. I'm just hoping something may turn up.'

'It would put fresh life into the town if they knew there was some chance of work again,' she said. 'May it be talked about?'

He shook his head. 'I'd rather not, if you don't mind. It may be that I shan't be able to do anything at all. In that case I should sell it again — if I could. And that would be a disappointment to them.'

She nodded. 'All right. I won't say anything.'

They turned and walked towards the gate. 'If there is anything that I can do to help this thing,' she said, 'I hope you'll let me know.' She smiled a little ruefully. 'Not that I'd be much help to you in starting companies.'

He said, 'You might let me know from time to time how things go on down here. Old Robbins, at the gate, he ought to be getting his money regularly every week in the same way that he always has. Let me know if there should be any hitch there.'

She nodded.

'There's another thing. You used to know all the heads of the departments in this Yard?'

She nodded. 'Daddy knew everyone, and they all used to come to our house. And we'd go to theirs.'

'Some day,' he said, 'we may want a General Manager. It ought to be someone who knows the place, and the men. And he must be young — not more than forty. And he must be working in shipbuilding now. He'd have to be cheerful and tactful, because he'd have the hell of a job ahead of him if we got this thing started up again. But we'd pay him well.'

She said, 'I'd like to think that over, Mr Warren. I know the sort of man you mean. I'll write to you if I can think of anyone.'

They walked up to the hospital. At the gates she turned tpwards him as they said goodbye.

'Mr Warren,' she said. 'You're serious about this? You're really trying to start something here again — after all these years?'

He met her eyes. 'I'm serious enough,' he said. 'If I could get this yard cracking again I'd be a very happy man. But whether I can do it — that's another matter.'

'It's good to hear that much,' she said quietly. 'The only thing that I can do is wish you all the luck in the world.'

He changed his plans, and went back to London on a sleeper train. Next day was Sunday; he spent it going through the papers relating to the Laevatian Oil Development that Morgan had prepared for him. At the end of five hours' work he had developed and increased his first suspicion that the thing was basically unsound.

It was, however, the one thing he had in sight that held out any prospect of orders for ships.

A month later Warren arrived in Visgrad from Berlin by air, and went to the Hotel des Nations. The hall porter, with encyclopaedic memory, greeted him as an old friend.

He had met the Laevatian Commission in London in conference,not once, but four times. He had stated his terms courteously, but firmly, from the first. Three oil tankers, of ten thousand tons each, were to be built in England by a concern that he would nominate at a later stage. On that basis he would proceed to use his best endeavours to promote their issue on the London market.