School for Love (25 page)

She was at her most beautiful, the languid leopard-curve of her body tapering off into the four seal-dark paws and seal-dark tail, and the delicate, small, dark mask. His heart leapt as he saw her there, safe after all his fears. Once, he thought, Mrs Ellis had had for him some of the beauty of Faro but now she had lost it. He did not believe any human being could be wholly as beautiful: he
did not believe he could love anyone or anything as much. He called: ‘Faro,’ and she opened her eyes and gave a small, hoarse cry. She stretched her paws and then her whole body.

‘Darling little Faro,’ he said.

She jumped down to a shelf below and walked towards him, her purring thudding through the air. He lifted her in his arms and felt her fur hot with sunlight, but almost at once her body stiffened, and she broke away and gave a violent peacock squawk of a cry that repeated itself and died away like a bell note. He tried to lift her again but she struggled against him and broke away again. She went off round the conservatory giving sharp, piercing cries.

He looked with alarm at Madame Sarkis: ‘What is the matter with her? She must be ill.’

A remote smile touched Madame Sarkis’s grey and withered face: ‘Oh, no, she is perfectly all right. It will only last a few days.’

‘But what is the matter with her?’

‘She wants to have some kittens.’

‘Oh!’ Felix had only the vaguest idea of what connection there was between Faro’s wish and her curious behaviour, but he felt hurt and jealous that he had suffered this defection of both his female friends over a question of babies and kittens. He stared sombrely after Faro.

‘Will she have some kittens?’ he asked.

‘Perhaps not the first time. Some day she will. Would you like to see my cat?’

Faro had wandered off, seeming indifferent to him, so they closed her in alone, and went to see the large stud cat with his dark coat and eyes of so deep a colour they were nearer purple than blue. He lay on the rim of a
fountain watching the occasional red twitch of a fish’s flank. He was not interested in Felix, who thought that compared with Faro, he was a heavy and dull creature.

Walking back to Herod’s Gate, Felix began to feel a certain guilt towards Miss Bohun. Miss Bohun had, after all, been right about Faro. Perhaps he had misjudged her in other ways. He felt the more guilty because he himself had not treated Faro so well. No, he had neglected and forgotten her for Mrs Ellis’s sake, but it was Faro who loved him. He knew that Mrs Ellis cared nothing for him at all: she would forget him as soon as he was gone. He did not blame her for that, but blamed himself that he had put her first. Perhaps she had not been completely right about Miss Bohun. But, despite his deepest reflection on this point, he could feel no trust in Miss Bohun.

When he got back to the house the luncheon was on the table. Miss Bohun was sitting there as though she had not moved from her seat since he walked out that morning. He was prepared for her anger, but instead she said in a friendly way:

‘I suppose you’ve been to see Madame Sarkis?’

‘Yes.’

‘And did you see Faro?’

‘Yes. Madame Sarkis says perhaps she’ll have kittens.’

‘Um!’ Miss Bohun agreed amiably and added: ‘If she does, they’ll be quite valuable. I’m told the Peppers paid three pounds for Faro.’

After a long pause Felix asked: ‘Would you sell Faro for three pounds?’

Miss Bohun looked less amiable: ‘What a strange question!’

‘But would you? Would you sell her to me?’

Miss Bohun frowned, and with the old note of exasperation back in her voice, said: ‘I don’t know. I can’t possibly say. I should have to think about it.’

‘Would you sell her for six pounds?’

‘Really, my dear boy, what is the point of this vulgar bargaining? Faro is my cat, but I’ve never prevented you from having her in your room and treating her as a pet.’

‘But she doesn’t know she’s your cat. She thinks she’s my cat. How could I go and leave her?’

‘You’re being ridiculous, Felix. No one would think of taking a cat back to England, especially at this time. And as for asking me to sell her! What would people think?’ As Felix opened his mouth to say something, she interrupted with decision: ‘Faro is my cat. I have no intention of selling her, so please let the matter drop.’

Felix said nothing more then, but the matter remained fixed in his mind. It took on new urgency when, a few days later, he received a note from the Transport Office telling him to stand by for a passage to England. If someone gave up a passage during the next four weeks Felix would be next on the list. In the sudden jolt of seeing his return to England as a reality, he thought only of Faro. He scarcely considered Mrs Ellis now; what did she care for him? and, besides, she could look after herself. But Faro – even if he did not love her as he did – would have to be saved. She was only a little cat. She could be sold to a stranger or starved or destroyed like the rats. Although he had no reason to suppose Miss Bohun would do those things – no reason except his distrust of her – Felix would take no risk. Anyway, his mind was made up. If Cook’s said he could not take her, then he would smuggle her on board. If he were discovered with her and
she put ashore, then he would return ashore himself. His determination had an almost mystical quality: he was so transported by it, he was convinced he could overcome any obstacle. But there were not many obstacles to overcome. The official at Cook’s took his enquiries mildly. Some people were taking dogs back with them. They had to be quarantined in England. That cost money, of course, but if Felix was prepared to meet the expense and to be responsible for her, there seemed no reason why a cat should not go with him. The liners had been turned into troop transport and perhaps the pets’ quarters had been dismantled – if so, there would be nowhere where he could shut her up at night. As a male civilian he would have no cabin. The army officers would have cabins to themselves on ‘A’ deck; the women and children would sleep about nine a cabin on ‘B’ deck; the civilian men, of whatever age and rank, would be allotted hammocks with the troops on the lower deck. Felix said that as Faro always slept in his arms, he thought she would be safe enough. And food for her? He was pretty sure he could scrounge something from the galley.

As he worked out his plans and at every step saw difficulties overcome, he began to be filled with a sense of achievement. He had no doubt that when the time came he’d get possession of Faro: he’d steal her if necessary.

As time passed, England became more real in his mind. Jerusalem paled to a shadow. His present was temporary, unimportant and powerless. Miss Bohun and even Mrs Ellis, once great figures blocking his whole horizon, were dwindled now almost out of sight.

He never gave them a thought, so he felt nothing when Miss Bohun broke into his reverie one evening at supper
and mentioned a subject she seemed to think important to him:

‘I suppose Mrs Ellis is all wrapped up in Madame Babayannis’s concert.’

‘I don’t know.’

‘She’s quite deserted you, anyway.’

‘Yes.’

There was a pause then Miss Bohun commented: ‘An odd young woman! I hesitate to think what sort of mother she’ll make. I don’t know what’s going to happen to her at all. She’s so unstable, so, so . . . I don’t know. She doesn’t seem to have roots anywhere.’

‘Hasn’t she any relations in England?’ asked Felix.

‘I think not. Of course she’s got a father somewhere, but from what I’ve heard of
him
. . .’ Miss Bohun clicked her tongue. The conversation ceased, but, after a long silence, Felix suddenly said:

‘I have my uncle in England.’

Miss Bohun, surprised, lifted her eyelashes an instant. ‘Your mother’s brother,’ she said; ‘are you attached to him?’

‘I can’t remember him very well, but he’s a vet. He lives in Bath.’

‘Are you looking forward to going back to England, Felix?’

‘Yes, I am now.’

‘Have you been happy here?’

‘Oh, yes,’ he said without expression, but, after a moment, added, ‘thank you, Miss Bohun.’

Later, when he was looking through the cinema advertisements in the
Palestine Post
, Miss Bohun went up to her room and returned with an olive-wood camel, roughly carved, and put it on the table.

‘There, that’s a present for you.’

‘For me?’

‘Yes. I thought you might like to collect a few things like that to take home to England with you.’

‘Thank you,’ he was embarrassed and not pleased. He picked up the camel and looked at it from politeness – he had seen hundreds like it in the shop. His mother, he knew, had despised things like this. ‘It’s very nice,’ he said, not wanting it, not wanting anything from her. Now he knew why Mrs Ellis would not take the gloves. Mrs Ellis had disliked Miss Bohun from the first. He looked up with the best smile he could and Miss Bohun, who had been watching him, looked away at once.

‘I wonder,’ she asked, ‘have you ever thought you might like to stay out here?’

‘No,’ Felix replied without hesitation. ‘Besides, Mr Jewel doesn’t think anyone will be able to stay out here much longer. There’ll be trouble.’

Her glance shot back at him and he realised how much he had alarmed her. ‘But that won’t affect us,’ she said, ‘I’m an Englishwoman. I’m not mixed up in these squabbles. I was here in 1939 when there was a lot of shooting and bombs going off, but we weren’t perturbed. With the “Ever-Readies” it was a case of “business as usual”.’

She gave a laugh at her own humour and Felix could see Miss Bohun, unlike Mr Jewel, had never given a thought to the problem of the future. He said, in case she should now start worrying: ‘Mr Jewel thinks Cyprus a nice place. It’s not far and it’s warm and cheap. He thinks he’ll go there.’

‘Cyprus!’ said Miss Bohun as though it were as remote as Bermuda, but after a long pause she added less
disapprovingly: ‘There is a branch of the “Ever-Readies” in Cyprus – in Kyrenia; a charming place I’m told, full of English gentlewomen. The Presiding Brother kept a room there for a while, just in case. There’s never any knowing what’s going to happen here in war-time. Armageddon, you know. I’m told they nearly had it last time. But I’m sure Mr Jewel is panicking unnecessarily, and, besides, I could never consider leaving my house. It’s my
home
. One becomes very attached to a place that belongs to one.’

Felix thought of her promise to let Mrs Ellis rent the house in the autumn: as he wondered how he could remind Miss Bohun of it, his thought must have passed into her mind. She sighed, then clicked her tongue: ‘
And
there’s Mrs Ellis. I really don’t know what’s to be done about that young woman. I feel a sense of responsibility, though dear knows why I should. And there’s her baby! That’s another thing. It will be arriving in two or three months. Just one worry after another.’

Felix went several times to see Faro. Madame Sarkis told him he need not ask for permission at the house, but he could walk round and enter the conservatory when he wished. The gardener, having seen him with Madame Sarkis, took no notice of him. Faro had suddenly lost interest in the idea of kittens and had not been mated after all. Felix was pleased about that. It seemed to him that circumstances were all on his side. He took so many trips to Madame Sarkis’s house that for a week he forgot all about Mr Jewel. When he went to the hospital again, he saw Miss Bohun, her hands full of pamphlets, hurrying away from it.

As Felix reached the verandah where Mr Jewel sat when
it was too hot to go into the garden, he heard the policemen laughing and one of them said with a strong Ulster accent: ‘I don’t mind an Arab with a gun, but I can’t stand a woman with a tract.’

Mr Jewel’s eyes were pink and wet with laughter. As soon as he saw Felix, he croaked out joyfully: ‘She’s been to see me.’

‘Miss Bohun?’ asked Felix in wonder. ‘Really? To see you! Was she friendly?’

‘Friendly?’ broke in one of the policemen, ‘why, I thought she must be his old woman.’

Mr Jewel joined in the laughter, but at the same time he was a little apart; there was a slight self-importance, a slight self-satisfaction in his manner. He pulled Felix towards him and said confidentially: ‘She said: “Isn’t it about time we saw you home again?” “What,” I said, “have you kept my attic for me all this long time?” “Attic?” she said, “that’s no place for old bones. I thought of putting you in
my
room.”’

A tremendous roar of laughter followed this and Mr Jewel took out his handkerchief and wiped the gummy corners of his eyes.

‘Did she really say that?’ asked Felix, uncertain whether this was a joke or not.

‘And he said,’ broke in one of the policemen: ‘“Wot, in your room with you?”’

When the laughter died down again, Mr Jewel gasped and said: ‘And she wasn’t annoyed. Believe it or not, we had a bit of a laugh together, and then she said: “Seriously now, Mr Jewel, I’m thinking of letting you have my room and going up to the attic myself.” Now, what do you think of that?’

What Felix thought was too complicated to be conveyed to Mr Jewel. From the depths of his mystification, he simply said: ‘Did she know you were going to tell me this?’

Mr Jewel suddenly sobered and looked away with a worried movement: ‘I forgot. She told me not to mention it. Now, young Felix, I look to you to keep it under your hat. You wouldn’t spoil my chances, would you?’

‘No,’ Felix reassured him, but felt forced to say, ‘as a matter of fact, she’s been up in the attic herself for a long time. Mrs Ellis has her room.’

‘That’s right,’ said Mr Jewel. ‘She said something about having a young woman in the house. She said this young woman was going off to have a baby and she wouldn’t be coming back, so the room would be free.’

‘I see,’ Felix said, and asked with a keen sense of his own practical coolness: ‘And will she want you to pay?’

‘That’s just it.’ Mr Jewel started to laugh again with a sort of sobbing excitement. ‘She knows I can’t pay for that room. She knows as well as I do. What’s she up to, eh?’

That was something for which Felix had no answer, but he saw the mechanics of the plot easily enough. When Mrs Ellis went to the hospital to have her baby, Mr Jewel would be brought back to occupy her room. Felix could not see what Miss Bohun would gain by the change, but as he spent the evening wandering about the town, he was agitated by the equal claims to his support of Mr Jewel and Mrs Ellis. Mr Jewel had been an earlier lodger in the house: he was an old man, almost penniless, who, if he lost this opportunity to return, would stand little chance of finding another room. Mrs Ellis, on the other
hand, would come out of the hospital with a baby and no home to which to take it. Her position would be bad enough, but, after all, she had some money to make things easier; Mr Jewel had none. But supposing Mr Jewel returned, how long after he had served his purpose would he be permitted to remain? Felix could only hope Miss Bohun would find it more difficult to turn the old man out a second time.