As Berry and I Were Saying (16 page)

“We did as he said.

“The officer was ready and waiting.

“‘Sirs,’ he said, ‘the grey car outside is my car. Drive down the Street and turn. As you come back, you will see the grey car moving. Follow me.’

“He led us towards the Bridge. Then he entered the grounds of a handsome private house. He stopped by the door and alighted. ‘We must see the Head of the
Sûreté
. The ladies will stay in the car.’ One minute later, we were ushered into a salon upon the first floor. A keen-faced, grey-haired man looked up from his desk. ‘Sir,’ said the other, ‘these are the English gentlemen of whom the Commandant spoke.’ The other rose and bowed. ‘Are your passports in order?’ he said. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘And the ladies?’ ‘Are still in the car.’ ‘You will permit me to see them. I will come down.’ We left the room and the house. He stepped to the car and bowed to Daphne and Jill, who inclined their heads. Then he turned to me. ‘This officer will lead you to the Bridge. As you approach, you will pass him and go on alone. But he will stay behind, until you are gone. I am going now to ring up the Bridge myself.’ We thanked him as best we could. Then we re-entered the car, followed the grey car out and drove to the Bridge. As we approached it, the grey car let us go by and pulled in to the side of the way.

“We stopped just short of the pole, and Boy and I got out. Cook’s man was there and was grinning all over his face.

“‘Have you got the agent?’ says Boy. ‘To pass the car through Spain?’

“‘Your passports first,’ said the other. ‘There is the office there.’

“‘I asked for the agent,’ said Boy.

“‘When your passports are stamped,’ said the other – and very near laughed in his face.

“Together we turned to the office. A dreadful-looking fellow was standing in the doorway, smiling like hell. As we came up, ‘Ah,’ says he. ‘The Commandants Pleydell, I think. May I see the passports you bear?’ And he stretched out his hand.

“‘I think,’ I said, ‘you have had a telephone message – about our party, I mean.’

“The man shook his head, smiling.

“‘No,’ he said. ‘And now your passports, please.’

“And, as he spoke, I heard the telephone-bell…

“He turned and entered his office. This was small, and I could see and hear him from where I stood.

“‘But, yes. They have just arrived, sir. I am about to… But, sir… Very good, sir… And the car, also?…Very good, sir… Yes, it is understood… At once, sir… Certainly.’

“When he came back to the doorway, his smile was gone. And his manner was wholly changed. The man was scared.

“‘If Monsieur will give me the passports, I am to stamp them at once.’

“He was as good as his word. As he gave me the passports back, he looked very hard at Cook’s man on the opposite side of the way. We walked to where the latter was standing, looking as glum as hell. ‘Where’s the agent?’ said Boy. ‘Have – have your passports been stamped?’ he faltered. ‘Of course,’ snaps Boy. ‘Where’s the agent you said would be here?’

“The man was sunk. He had instructed no agent, because he knew that we should not be allowed to proceed. And now we were being allowed, and our passports were stamped. ‘I will find the agent,’ he said. ‘While I am gone, this officer will clear your car.’

“Looking something dazed, the Customs stamped some papers and handed them back. Then I went off to collect our trunks from the station…

“The agent, who had not been warned, had made no arrangements with Spain and naturally declined to issue a guarantee. But, after what had happened, we wouldn’t have slept in France for fifty cars. So our trunks were piled on hand-carts, which porters pushed over the Bridge, and we drove slowly behind them into Spain. The Customs had been so dithered that they’d never inspected the car or opened one trunk.

“The Spaniards were kindness itself. An agent was found, and I explained our case. He’d never seen us before, but he guaranteed the car: by that, I mean that he promised the Customs in writing that he would pay them the duty upon a car which was worth one thousand pounds, if that car was not out of Spain within seven days. He helped us to register our baggage, sealed the trunks himself and gave us the receipts. We had just enough Spanish money to do these things. Then, ‘Excuse me,’ he said politely, ‘but francs are no good in Spain. You will have to stay at hotels and how will you pay your bills?’ ‘I really don’t know,’ I said. ‘I can give them cheques on Lisbon.’ ‘You will stay three nights,’ he said. ‘And Spain is expensive today.’ He took his pocket-book out. ‘I think you should have fifty pounds.’ He gave me the notes there and then. ‘But to pay you back?’ I said. ‘I will send my account to Lisbon. Your bank will arrange.’ I suppose that can be beaten. But, after France… I suppose it was strain, but, before I could manage to thank him, I had to master my voice.

“Well, that is the sordid story… And you will bear me out that every word is true. People may refuse to believe it: but I don’t care. For all of us know that it’s true in every particular. And that is why we shall never go back to
Gracedieu
and why you will never write the book which you meant to write.

“Now it’s no good pretending that ours was an isolated case; for it was nothing of the kind. British resident after British resident returned to his home in France, met with the treatment we met with, hoped for a while against hope and finally threw in his hand. I don’t say that efforts were made to prevent him from leaving the country: whether they were or no, I have no idea. But, always because of his treatment, he had to go.

“What is the explanation of this astounding
volte-face
on the part of the French? For that is what it was. People who say, ‘Oh, the French always hated us’, make me tired. The French were never mad about any foreigner, but they certainly liked the English better than anyone else. Up to the outbreak of war, if he behaved himself, the British resident was popular in France. Tradesmen were glad of his custom: servants were eager to enter his service – no servant who had been in an English house would ever again enter a French one. Why? Because in an English house they were properly used. Peasants were always courteous and more than ready to help at any time: officials were, for the most part, extremely civil, and, once they got to know you, would do you proud.

“Let me put on record one single instance of ‘service’. On the day on which we entered
Gracedieu
, the bulk of our furniture arrived very late: and when it did arrive, the men to unload it did not – for several hours. With the result that, though we all worked like madmen, the men were not out of the house till nearly eleven that night. We staggered into the library and sank down just as we were. We’d had no tea, we’d not even had a drink, and Daphne was trying to think what would be the easiest food for the chef to prepare and the butler to serve – for the two had worked just as hard as anyone else. Then the door of the library opened and the butler came in, changed and immaculate, with the cocktails, as usual, on a tray. As he brought them round, ‘Well done, —,’ said Daphne. ‘Now about what we’re to eat.’ The man looked faintly surprised. ‘Madame,’ he said, ‘will be served in a quarter of an hour.’ We just had time to wash. Then we sat down to the dinner which Daphne had ordered, perfectly cooked and served. By the time we had finished, it was a quarter to twelve.” Berry stopped there and looked round. “Is that reminiscence true?”

“Every word,” said everyone.

“Very well. That was the sort of devotion which our servants delighted to render before the war. Why, then, the astounding
volte-face
, which I have described?

“I have spoken with many people who knew the old France: I’ve spoken with Spaniards: I’ve spoken with British soldiers, high and low: and I’ve spoken with diplomats. From what I saw for myself and from what they said, I have formed certain conclusions, and here they are.

“The first is this – that ninety per cent of the French will never, never forgive us for fighting on. When they surrendered, they assumed we should follow suit: it never entered their heads that we should go on. And when we did go on, they were simply wild. Why? Because, by refusing to surrender, we showed them up. For years they had boasted of their honour – a thing which we never did. But, when they were shown the whip, they threw their honour away. And then we were shown the whip – a very much heavier whip, for we were entirely alone. But we hugged our honour more tightly and bade the Germans lay on – so that, while France had no honour left, ours was magnified. Then they comforted themselves by believing, as they had good reason to believe, that we should be broken in pieces – a fate which they had escaped. And then we weren’t broken in pieces… And that was gall
and
wormwood, and the very hell of a draught. So they came to hate us like poison.

“The second conclusion is this – that, under the Boche, the French did extremely well. I don’t have to tell you that their ruling passion is gain, that it always has been gain. To our way of thinking, that is an unfortunate trait: but they had many qualities. Be that as it may, not only did the Boche pay handsomely, but something which was called ‘The Black Market’ came swiftly to life. The Black Market meant gain – smart, surreptitious dealing, which not only flouted the law, but always ended in gain…sometimes prodigious gain – two or three months’ wages in one afternoon. Now this was right down the Frenchman’s street: soon everybody was in it, from bottom to top. The proportions which it assumed were unbelievable. Peasants became franc millionaires: typists smoked cigarettes at ninepence apiece: comparatively poor men’s wives dressed at the rate of fifteen hundred a year – pounds, not francs. It was, I think, after V Day, but whilst we were still in France, that a train-load of tyres vanished on the way to Paris from Havre. A whole train, loaded with nothing but tyres – brand-new Dunlop tyres. One of the Dunlop agents told me that. Think of the number of Frenchmen in on that deal: and every one got his rake-off. At that time there were, it was said – with how much truth I don’t know – eighty thousand American deserters in France. Many had deserted, bearing their sheaves with them. They would take with them a truck – of American cigarettes. They could live on that for six months. Three pounds fifteen a hundred was what we paid. (They talk about a black market in England. They’ve never started in England, compared with France.) The French never made so much money in all their lives. And then came the liberation…which dealt a mortal blow to this prosperity. And the nation they hated like poison brought it about. By her cursed interference, doubly
Perfide Albion
deprived the French of their cake. What was so bitter was that they had to pretend they were pleased.

“And here and now let me say this. There were some who did not share this outlook. There were some most honourable exceptions – glorious, gallant men and women, who never threw away their honour, who showed themselves faithful to death. But they were very few… We have heard of ‘
La Résistance
’. This was negligible. Discussing it with a British General who was in a position to know, I suggested one per cent. He looked at me. ‘Point o o one per cent,’ was all he said. Had France, as a whole, ‘resisted’, I doubt if the Boche could have held the country down. He could certainly have done nothing else – look at the troops it took to hold our prisoners-of-war: and they were behind barbed wire. It was fear of such a resistance that kept Hitler out of Spain. Still, as I say, there were some great-hearted exceptions, who loathed the Boche as we do, whose hatred was not for sale.

“Well, there we are. I’ve told our sordid story: and I’ve offered an explanation of what occurred. And now let’s forget a very bitter experience, which would, I think, have shaken Machiavelli himself.”

“One word,” said I. “Why did they try to prevent us from leaving France?”

“If you can’t answer that question, neither can I. I can only suppose it was malice – they wanted to keep us there and to twist our tails. And, of course, we’d have had to pay through the nose. Nowhere to lay our heads – except at a price. And the one night we spent at Pau cost us over thirty pounds.”

“I asked the Commandant, but he never replied. So I didn’t ask him again.”

“He must have known,” said Berry, “God bless his honest soul.”

“He was sweet to us,” said Jill, “the day you brought him to
Gracedieu
. D’you remember how he kept saying, ‘But this is an English house’? And he simply loved the terrace.”

“He was honest,” said I. “An honest gentleman.”

“Give us something to sleep on,” said Daphne. “I don’t want to dream.”

“Once upon a time,” said I, “a man and a woman fell out. And the woman went to law. I knew the man slightly. I knew the woman by name. I have always believed that the case was one of blackmail – that is to say that such allegations were made by the plaintiff in the pleadings as she and her advisers hoped would induce the defendant to pay up, rather than let them be repeated, false though they were, in open court.

“Well, it came off.

“The case was never tried. When it was called on, counsel for the plaintiff announced that ‘his lordship would not be troubled with the action, as the defendant had agreed to pay the plaintiff substantial damages’ – he mentioned a phenomenal sum – ‘as well as her costs’.

“I was very sorry for the man, who was one of the best. His father was dead. I was told that his mother had put great pressure upon him to settle the case.

“The solicitors for the plaintiff were Messrs. X and Y, not a very sweet-smelling firm. The solicitors for the defendant were Messrs. A and A, a firm of the best report.

“On the evening of the day upon which counsel made his statement, Mr X wrote a short note to the senior partner of A and A. He did not know him to speak to, but that was beside his point.

Dear Wisdom,

— against —

Our costs in this case amount to five thousand pounds. May we have a cheque at your convenience?

Yours sincerely,

Simeon X

“On his way home that evening, Mr X paid two calls. The first was to a jeweller’s, where he chose for Mrs X a very fine string of pearls. The second was to a house-agent’s. There he acquired an option to purchase a highly desirable mansion in a highly desirable square.