The Levant Trilogy (46 page)

'Yes. Out of curiosity, as much as anything. We
formed quite a little elite, those of us who'd braved the island. We felt we'd
done something remarkable.'

'Yet when the Germans were coming, you all
forgot about him?'

'Oh!' Major Cookson's mouth fell open, then he
tried to excuse himself: 'It was so sudden, the German breakthrough. They came
so quickly.'

'Still you had time to prepare your get-away.'

Major Cookson hung his head, knowing that the
manner of his departure from Greece might be forgiven, but it would never be
forgotten.

Having discovered that Harriet was the wife of a
professor who was a lover of Egypt, Dr Shafik changed towards Harriet. Whenever
he had nothing else to do, he would stroll into her room and entertain her with
flippant and flirtatious talk. He did not suppose her capable of discussing an
abstruse problem but he would gaze at her thoughtfully, even tenderly, and
accord her his especial care. Harriet knew that Arabs, when not laughing at the
female sex as a ridiculous aberration in nature, were romantic and generous,
but she became bored by his levity. She broke into it to ask, 'Is your plague
patient still alive?'

'Yes, he is alive. How did you know I have such
a patient?'

'I heard him crying out in delirium. It was
frightening. And he's still alive! Is there a new drug with which to treat
bubonic plague?'

'Yes.' He was rather sulky at being forced into
this conversation and she had to question him before he would tell her: 'There
is a serum which is effective, sometimes. But his heart will be weak.'

'You are not afraid for yourself?'

'Naturally I have been inoculated. We wear special
clothing and so on. The danger is not great.'

'The man is a Polish officer, isn't he? Why was
he brought to a civilian hospital?'

'He had to be isolated, and the military have no
suitable place. You know, on this spot, a long time ago, there was the old
quarantine station and hospital. The island was only half formed then, and it
was desert.'

Harriet's interest, arising out of her horror of
contagion, led Shafik to talk in spite of himself. He told her it was there
that patients were brought during the plague epidemic of 1836. 'There was a Dr
Brulard. He wanted so much to know how plague was transmitted, he took the
shirt from a dead man and wore it himself. Was he not brave?'

'My goodness, yes. And did he catch plague?'

'No, nor did he solve the mystery of how it was
transmitted. And there was typhus - now, how did they catch typhus?'

Harriet laughed nervously and Shafik refused to
tell her any more about plague and typhus, but, leaning towards her, said, 'You
are getting better. Are you glad you did not die and go to heaven?'

'I thought there was no heaven for women in your
religion.'

'Wrong, madame, wrong. The ladies have a nice
heaven of their own. They are without men but there is a consolation: they are
beautiful forever.'

'If there are no men, would it matter whether
they were beautiful or not?'

'Ha!' Dr Shafik threw back his head and shouted
with laughter: 'Mrs Pringle, I am much relieved. You are, after all, a true
woman.'

'Why "after all"?'

'I wondered. I thought you were too clever for
your sex.'

'And you're not as clever as you think you are.'

'Oh, oh, oh!' Shafik shook his hand as though it
had been burnt: 'How ungrateful, after I have so cleverly cured you!'

'Perhaps you didn't cure me. Perhaps I cured
myself. You see, I have given in. I'm going back to England.'

'You are going to England?' he stared with
concern and dismay: 'Just when we have become friends! And Professor Pringle? -
he, too, is going to England?'

'No. He has to stay here till the war ends.'

'But does he want you to go?'

'He thinks I will never be well while I remain
here.'

'I'm sorry you are going.'

'I'm sorry, too.'

Before she left the hospital, Harriet asked if
she might see Miss Copeland again, but Miss Copeland was no longer there. When
he suggested that the Pringles should give her a home, Dr Shafik had been
making fun of Harriet. A home already had been provided by the Convent of the
Holy Family and there Miss Copeland could stay for the rest of her life.

Shafik, saying goodbye to Harriet, held her hand
between his two strong, slender hands and said, 'One day you will come back to
Egypt and then you will come to see me. Yes?'

Harriet promised that she would. Looking into
his large, dark, emotional eyes, she almost wished she had an Oriental husband,
especially one who looked like Dr Shafik.

For a fortnight before the lecture, Pinkrose
telephoned Guy several times a day, demanding to know what progress had been
made in finding a hall that would reflect his importance. He rejected the
assembly rooms of the American University, the cathedral, Cairo University and
the Agricultural Museum. None of these was grand enough for the occasion he had
in mind. He wanted a large and ornate hall, one suited for the entertainment of
royalty and the Egyptian aristocracy.

Cairo offered nothing to suit him. The Egyptians
themselves when gathering for a wedding or the funeral of a notable, employed a
tent-maker to erect a tent in a Midan or some other open area. These tents,
large, square and appliquéd all over with coloured designs, had appealed to
Harriet and she suggested that one be hired for the lecture. Pinkrose was
appalled by the idea: 'Lecture in a tent, Pringle!

Lecture in a tent! Certainly not. What do you
think I am! — Barnurn's Circus?' He insisted that the Embassy be again approached
and asked to open up the ballroom. To please him, Guy had another word with
Dobson who only laughed: 'The place is under dust sheets. It would take an army
of servants to get it ready.' In the end, Guy approached the management of the
Opera House and found it was available if the sum offered were large enough.
But even the Opera House did not please Pinkrose.

Forced to accept it, he frowned at the bare
stage and said, 'I expect you to pretty it up, Pringle.'

'We'll surround the podium with flowers and
ferns.'

'Fair enough, Pringle; see to that. Now, about
the reception.

You know I've invited the king and court? Well,
we can't ask them to sit on kitchen chairs, can we?'

The reception was to be in the Green Room which
looked well enough to Guy but did not satisfy Pinkrose who went off on his own
and found a shop that hired out theatrical furniture. He chose crimson plush
curtains with gilt tassels and a large gilt and plush-seated chair that looked
like a throne. These, together with two dozen gilt reception chairs, were
delivered to the Opera House. When the curtains were hung and the chairs
crowded into the room, Pinkrose called Guy in to admire the effect: 'What do
you think of it, eh, Pringle? What do you think of it?'

'I think it's tawdry and ridiculous.'

'No, Pringle, it's regal. His majesty will think
he's in a corner of Abdin Palace.'

'You know we've had no acceptances from the
palace?'

'Oh, they'll come. They'll come.'

Guy had promised to call for Harriet when she
left hospital but was too busy. He telephoned her at the flat to excuse his
defection: 'By the time this lecture's over, I'll be as loony as Pinkrose.'

Losing patience, Harriet said, 'Why do you
pander to the old egoist? Who cares whether he lectures or not?'

'You'd be surprised. The whole university staff
is coming. And you'll come, too, won't you?'

Still toxic from the drugs that had killed the
amoebae, Harriet had been thinking of going to bed. Persuaded to dress and
attend the reception, she asked Angela to go with her.

'Oh, no, darling, I can't bear lectures. I
forget to listen and I start talking and people around get shirty...'

'Do come, Angela, we'll sit at the back and
laugh.'

'No, darling, no.'

Angela was firm in her refusal and suspecting
she had some other engagement, Harriet went to the Opera House alone.

The Green Room was filled with gilt chairs but
the guests, edged in among them, were neither numerous nor very distinguished.
Pinkrose, ignoring the university staff and the government officials, waited,
in a state of peevish anxiety, for someone worthy of his attention. He was
wearing an old, greenish dinner suit with a grey knitted shawl over his
shoulders.

Usually he kept the shawl up to his mouth but
now he had pulled it down in readiness for a royal welcome and his lips opened
and shut in agitation.

Guy came to say the lecture should begin.
Pinkrose, refusing to listen, shook his head: 'You must telephone the king's
chamberlain, Pringle. I insist. I
insist.
Make it clear that this is no
ordinary lecture. I'm not just a don, I'm a peer of the realm. The palace owes
me the courtesy of royal patronage.'

Guy, mild in manner but determined, refused to
telephone the palace while the guests listened, transfixed by Pinkrose's
behaviour.

'If you don't ring the palace, I won't go on. I
won't. I won't. I won't.'

'Very well, I'll give the lecture myself.'

Pinkrose did not reply but stared at his script
which shook in his shaking hands. When Guy asked the guests to follow him into
the theatre, Pinkrose made a rush and pushed ahead of him. Trotting at a
furious pace, he went down the aisle and up some side steps to the stage. Guy
was to take the chair but before he could reach it, Pinkrose had positioned
himself at the forefront of the stage. An oval figure, narrow at the shoulders
and broad at the hips, he stared at the audience, his eyes stony with contempt.
A stage light, shining down on his dog-brown hair, lit the ring on which his
hat usually fitted.

He took a step forward. He was about to begin
but before he could say anything, there was a report and he stood, looking
astonished, saying nothing. The noise had not been very great and some people,
thinking he was waiting for silence, shusshed at each other. Then they saw that
he had a hand pressed to his side and his body was slowly folding towards the
floor. As he collapsed, Guy hurried to him and pulling the shawl away, revealed
Pinkrose's dress shirt soaked in blood. There was hubbub in the auditorium.

Harriet, going towards the stage, saw Guy's face
creased with amazed concern. An army doctor ran up the steps to join him. Guy
shook his head and the doctor, putting an ear to Pinkrose's chest, said, 'He's
dead.'

This statement reached the people in the front
row and was quickly passed back. A crowd of students leapt up and began bawling
in triumph. One of them shouted: 'So die all enemies of Egypt's freedom.' The
others, excited by the possibility of a political demonstration, repeated this
cry while more sober members of the audience began pushing their way out before
trouble should begin.

Harriet, standing below the stage, felt someone
touch her arm and, looking round, saw a young woman who said, 'Remember me?'

'Yes, you're Mortimer.'

'Tell me, why are they saying Lord Pinkrose was
an enemy of Egyptian freedom?'

Harriet could only shake her head but the
student nearest to her answered: 'Not Lord Pinkrose. Lord Pinkerton. Minister
of State. Very bad man.'

Another corrected him: 'Not Minister of State.
Minister of War.'

Harriet said, 'Pinkrose isn't any sort of minister.
You've killed the wrong man.'

Taking this as an accusation, the students began
a clamour of protest: 'We did not kill any man.'

'Who is wrong man?'

'What's it matter, all British lords bad men.
All enemies of Egypt,' and having found an excuse for a riot, they began
tugging at the theatre seats in an effort to get them away from the floor.

The stage was empty now. Guy and the doctor had
carried Pinkrose into the wings. Mortimer, holding to Harriet's arm, said: 'You
don't look well.'

'It's the shock, and I've just come out of
hospital.'

'Better get away from this rampage. No knowing
what they'll do next.' Capable and strong, Mortimer put her arms about Harriet
and led her out to the street. They stood in the cool, night air, listening to
the uproar inside the theatre and waiting for Guy to emerge. He did not come
but the students, defeated by the clamped-down seats, came running out, bawling
every and any political slogan that came into their heads. Two of the young
men, recognizing Harriet, stopped, becoming suddenly cautious and polite. She
asked them if they knew who fired the shot.

Speaking together, showing now vehement
disapproval of what had happened, they told her that Egyptians were good
people: 'Believe me, Mrs Pringle, we do not kilL We talk but killing is not in
our nature.'

'Then who do you think did it?'

They looked at each other, hesitant yet unable
to keep their knowledge to themselves. One said, 'They are saying a gun was
seen. They are saying that Mr Hertz and Mr Allain were beside the door. When
the shot came, they at once went out,'

'But who fired the shot?'

'Ah, who can say?'

An ambulance pulled up at the kerb. The watchers
became silent, waiting to see what would happen next. Men went inside with a
stretcher and when they came out, Guy was walking in front of them. The body,
even more protected in death than in life, was muffled up like a mummy with
Pinkrose's old, brown, sweat-stained trilby lying, like a tribute, on the
chest. The body was put into the ambulance and Guy got in with it. Harriet
moved to speak to him but he was driven away.

'So that's that,' Mortimer said: 'I could do
with a drink. How about you? Shepherd's is too crowded. Let's get a taxi and go
to Groppi's.'

Harriet, exhausted, was happy to let Mortimer
find a taxi and help her into it. They found Groppi's garden nearly empty. The
Egyptians were nervous of the winter air at night and the staff officers were
thinning out as the desert war moved westwards. Cairo was no longer a base town
though the townspeople, especially those who lived off the army, daily expected
the British back again.

The two women sat in a secluded corner and
Mortimer, attentive and concerned for Harriet, recommended Cyprus brandy as a
restorative for them both. They talked about Pinkrose and the manner of his
death.

'He was advertised as Professor Lord Pinkrose,'
Mortimer said: 'What was he doing here? Was he sent out to do some sort of
undercover work?'

'I don't think so.' Harriet described Pinkrose's
arrival to lecture in Bucharest, his move to Athens and then on to Egypt: 'I
don't think he dabbled in anything. I imagine, like Polonrus, he was mistaken
for his better. The students mentioned a Lord

Pinkerton. That may have been the one the
assassins were after. But how was it you were at the lecture?'

'Oh, I'm addicted to lectures. I was a student
myself when war broke out. I was at Lady Margaret Hall Seeing that a Cambridge
professor was to talk on Eng. Lit., I thought, "This will be quite like
old times." I went in with some idea of taking notes. Keeping in training,
as it were. I'll go back to study when the war's over. Strange to think of it,
though.'

'Did you know that Angela and I are leaving
Egypt? We've got berths on the ship going round the Cape to England.'

'Really, you're going? Both of you. Soon
there'll be no one left here. You sound sad. Do you mind leaving?'

'I do, strangely enough. When I first came here,
I hated the place. Now I feel miserable about leaving it. And, of course, I'm
leaving Guy. I won't see him again till the war's over - that is, if it ever is
over.'

'If you feel like that, why are you going?'

'I don't know. Out of pique, as much as
anything.' Harriet told Mortimer how Guy had taken the rose-diamond brooch and
Mortimer shook with laughter.

'You couldn't go because of that. It's too
silly.'

'Not as silly as you think. He took the brooch
to give to a girl who's had an unhappy love affair. He thought it would comfort
her.'

'But it's not serious? - with the girl, I mean?'

'Perhaps not - but that detonated my feelings. I
wanted to change my life and did not know how to do it. This will be a change.
We know nothing about war-time England. I want to go back and see for myself. I
want to be in the midst of it,'

Mortimer ordered more brandy and they drank
sombrely, Mortimer despondent at the departure of Angela, and Harriet
despondent at having to depart. Buttoning her cardigan against the wind that
rustied the creepers and shook the coloured lights, Harriet pictured England as
a cold and sunless place, no longer familiar to her and so far away, it had
become an alien country.

Mortimer said, ' I'm off to Damascus tomorrow.
We leave at first light,'

'And when do you get back?'

'We never know for sure. We thought, this time,
we'd go as far north as Aleppo.'

'Aleppo!' Harriet's fancy expanded through the
Levant and hovered over a vision of Aleppo. She had come so far and seen so
little: and, in spite of Dr Shafik's entreaty, she was not likely to return.
But it was too late for regrets. She finished her brandy and said she had
better go home to bed.

Walking with her down to the river, Mortimer
said, 'I suppose you haven't been told the sailing date?'

'No. That'll be kept dark, for security reasons.
Well just have to wait till we receive a summons.'

'You'll go from Suez, of course. When you hear,
give me a ring. Angela has my number. Leave a message if I'm not there; I'll
ring you back. We often take the lorry to Suez to pick up supplies so, if we
can, we'll come and wave you both goodbye.'