LITMIR.BIZ

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Jameson? I suppose not.’

      In the bedroom he absently opened one cupboard after another, all filled with lush blankets and tinted linen of all kinds, shutting the doors before I could properly savour them. ‘All the usual things for bedrooms – hot bottles, electric bottles and so on. Never use the things myself. Now, tell me, did you ever go shooting down Gwelo way?’ He told a story of how he had shot a lion in the chicken-run, in the good old days. ‘But perhaps things have changed,’ he remarked at last.

      ‘I think they have, rather.’

      ‘Yes, so I hear.’ He threw open another door. ‘The bathroom,’ he announced, before shutting it. I caught a glimpse of a very large room with a black and white tiled floor, and a pale pink bath. ‘A bit cramped,’ he said, ‘but in these days.’

      ‘Well, I think that’s all,’ he said at last. ‘Shall we have a drink on it?’ He produced a bottle of Armagnac; then he looked at Mr Ponsonby, for the first time in minutes, and frowned. ‘There’s a pub round the corner,’ he said putting back the bottle. In the pub he ordered two drinks for me and for him, added a third as a calculated afterthought, and turned his back on Mr Ponsonby. ‘Now,’ he said, his fat red face relaxing. ‘We can talk.’ For the space of several drinks I said yes and no; and in the intervals of his monologue, the Colonel ordered, with brusque dislike, another for Mr Ponsonby, who was reacting to this situation in a way which disconcerted me. I expected him to be angry; but his eyes were focused on some plan. He watched the Colonel’s face for some time while he pretended to be listening to his talk. Then he turned away and got into conversation with a man sitting next to him. I heard phrases like ‘a good investment’ and ‘thirty per cent’ spoken in a discreet, almost winning voice.

      ‘That Bulawayo campaign. The best days of my life. I remember lying on the kopje behind my house and taking pot-shots at the nigs as they came to the river for water. I was a damned good shot, though I say it myself. Of course, I still shoot a bit, grouse chiefly, but it’s not the same. It was a good life, say what you like.’ He shot a pugnacious blue glance at me and demanded: ‘From what I hear they’ll be taking pot-shots at us soon, getting their own back, hey? This idea seemed to cause him a detached and almost kindly amusement, for he guffawed and said: ‘I used to get good fun with those nigs. Damn good fellows some of them. Sportsmen. Good fighters. Ah, well.’ He sighed and put down his glass. ‘Two more of the same.’

      ‘Closing time, sir.’

      ‘Blast. This damned country. Can’t stand it. It’s a nation of old women these days. It’s the Labour Government. Petticoat government, that’s what I call it. That’s why I’m thinking of getting out again. To Kenya, I thought. I’ve got a cousin. I’d go back to Rhodesia, but my wife, blast her, is there with her new husband. Not big enough for both of us. The trouble is, though, once you’ve lived out of England, you can’t really settle in it. Too small. I expect you’ll find that, too. I remember I came back on leave after that Bulawayo campaign and asking myself, How the hell did I stick England all those years. I still ask myself.’

      I heard Mr Ponsonby say: ‘A nice little sideline for a man with a few hundred to spare.’

      The Colonel, peevishly fiddling with his empty glass, listened.

      ‘Needs doing up. But it’s in good repair. All it really needs is some paint and a bar.’

      ‘Your cousin …’

      ‘He’s not my cousin.’

      ‘Of course not. Ah, well, these people have their uses, I suppose! He appears to have irons in the fire.’

      ‘Dozens. He’s a man of enterprise.’

      ‘That’s what this country lacks, these days.’

      ‘He was in the Commandos, too.’

      But the Colonel’s face expressed nothing but distaste. ‘Was he? I like clean fighting myself. Still, I suppose those fellows were necessary.’

      ‘My principal needs a quick decision,’ said Mr Ponsonby. ‘You can give me a ring in the morning.’ He got off his stool and turned to us, not immediately recognizing us, so great was his preoccupation. ‘Well,’ he asked. ‘Everything fixed?’ He spoke as if this little matter could only be kept in the forefront of his attention by the greatest concentration.

      ‘About the rent,’ I asked.

      ‘Well, my dear,’ said the Colonel, ‘I know one can get anything one asks these days, but I don’t like to take advantage. For you I’d make it ten guineas.’

      ‘You could easily get fifteen or twenty,’ I said.

      ‘Yes, I know. Those Yanks’d pay that. But I don’t like ’em.’

      ‘But I haven’t got the money to pay that, anyway.’

      ‘Well, it doesn’t matter, because I don’t really want to let it. It’s an idea that came into my head last week. But I suppose I’ll have to end my days here. In the old country. The trouble is, it isn’t the old country any longer. I used to be proud to call myself English. I’m damned if I am these days.’

      Mr Ponsonby was examining his watch.

      ‘This proposition you were discussing with that fellow,’ said the Colonel.

      ‘A night-club. Perhaps you might be interested?’

      ‘A night-club?’ said the Colonel, livening up. ‘Well, I might be interested to have some details.’

      Mr Ponsonby had by now replaced me beside the Colonel. His manner with him was quite different than with me. He looked, perhaps, like a sergeant-major in mufti, rather bluff and responsible. ‘My principal,’ he said, ‘is very concerned about the hands it might get into. Needs decent people, you know.’

      ‘Ah,’ said the Colonel, a trifle suspiciously.

      ‘Shall I ring you in the morning, sir?’

      ‘Yes, you could do that.’

      We parted, the Colonel wishing me well, but without much confidence, because, as he said, I should have come to England before the First World War, it had never been the same since.

      Walking home, I was offered a share in the night-club. He also said that if I had four hundred he would double it for me in a month. There was a house for sale for one thousand five hundred; and he knew a man he could sell it to for two thousand three hundred. ‘And what would you get out of it?’ I asked.

      ‘Your confidence in me,’ he said. ‘Of course, I’d charge a small commission. There’s nothing in it. I can’t understand it, people slaving away, when it’s so easy to make money. All you have to do, is use your intelligence.’

      ‘All I want at the moment is a flat.’

      ‘You’ll never find another flat like the Colonel’s, at that price.’

      ‘But he didn’t want to let it.’

      ‘That’s not my fault.’ We were now at the house, and he said: ‘I’ll tell you what. I’ll drop around tomorrow and take you to another little place I know about.’

      ‘Goodnight,’ I said.

      ‘I like a person like you, who thinks twice about risking their money. I’ll be in touch,’ he said.

       Chapter Three

      Next day I began to look for a job, and the attitude of the household changed. Rose said: ‘Now you’re going to be a working girl like me. I’m glad.’ But Flo was disappointed in me, even offended. ‘You should have told us, shouldn’t you,’ she said. ‘Told you what?’ ‘Now you’re nice and comfortable up in that little flat that’s so nice.’ ‘Flo, I’m looking for a real flat, I told you.’ ‘Ah, my God!’

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