The Levant Trilogy (71 page)

Dobson, as usual the first to hear whatever news
there was, received from the consul an entertaining account of 'the whole damn
fool imbroglio - two women squabbling over a dying man. And one of them no less
a person than Lady Hooper. Now that he's gone, he's eluded both of them but Mrs
C will be awarded the cadaver.'

Harriet felt it unlikely that the porter, with
the Arab dislike of conveying bad news, had told Angela that Castlebar was
dead. Harriet went at once to the Royal Suite and found Angela lying, fully
dressed and awake, on the bed.

'What have you come to tell me, Harriet?'

'I'm afraid you've guessed right.'

'He's dead?'

Harriet nodded. Angela stared at her with an
expression of distraught vacancy bereft, it seemed, of anything that made life
possible. Knowing there could be no comfort in anything she might say, Harriet
sat on the edge of the bed and held out her arms. Angela collapsed against her.

Harriet remained with her till late in the
evening. For most of the time Angela lay as though in a stupor but twice she
started to talk, rapidly, almost vivaciously, going over the details of
Castlebar's illness and its possible cause.

'The shellfish! If I had been with him, he would
be alive now. But, who knows, it may not have been the shellfish. Yet I'm sure
it was the shellfish
...'

When she lapsed into silence the second time,
Harriet persuaded her to undress and take her sedative tablets. Leaving her
sleeping, Harriet walked to Garden City by the river and was astonished to find
Mona Castlebar with Dobson in the living-room. She had a drink in her hand and
from her manner, seemed to see it as a gala occasion. Having no one else on
whom to impose herself, she had come to the flat, ostensibly seeking advice
about the funeral.

Had Castlebar died anywhere but in the American
Hospital, he would have been already buried. The hospital, with all its modern
equipment, had a refrigerated mortuary cabinet and there the dead man could
stay till Mona claimed him.

This, she said, was very satisfactory. She would
have time to arrange a funeral befitting a well-known poet and university
lecturer.

'The service will be in the cathedral, of
course. Fully choral. I'm having invitations printed but these will only go out
to a select few. If other people want to attend, they can sit at the back. Now,
as to timing, I suggest we have the coffin carried in about mid-day then allow
an interval of, say, fifteen minutes, after which I'll walk slowly up the
aisle. There should be someone for me to lean on,' Mona glanced at Harriet,
'Guy would do.'

Harriet did not speak. Dobson, who had
maintained a decorous face until then, could scarcely keep from laughing: 'My
dear lady, this is a funeral, not a wedding, If you must make an entrance, you
should come in immediately after the coffin.'

Mona's face fell. She tried to argue but had in
the end to agree that Dobson, an authority on protocol, probably knew best.

Angela, to Harriet's surprise, wanted to attend
the funeral service. 'I must go. Of course I must. What would Bill think if he
didn't see me there? You'll come and call for me, won't you? We'll go
together.'

Harriet, calling for Angela, found her in a
short dress that looked too fashionably chic for a funeral.

She said: 'It's my only black. I know it's not
suitable, but what does it matter? I suppose I'll have to wear a hat!' She
pulled a milliner's box from the wardrobe and brought out a widebrimmed hat of
black lace trimmed with pink roses: 'This will do, won't it?' She sat it on her
head without looking in her glass. 'Is it all right?' she turned to Harriet,
her face red, swollen and dejected beneath the pretty hat. 'It will do,'
Harriet said.

In the cathedral, the three front rows of pews
were filled by Mona's selected guests: a few members of the embassy staff and
some senior lecturers from the university.

Guy, though he had received an invitation, had
chosen to sit at the back and Harriet and Angela sat beside him. Almost at once
the congregation rose. There was a shuffle of feet in the porch, then the
coffin began its journey down the aisle. Mona's invitations had said 'No
flowers by request' but did not state whose request. Her own wreath, a large
cross of red carnations, was conspicuous on the coffin lid. As Dobson had
directed, she followed the coffin in, walking slowly, her head bowed, her legs
hidden by a black velvet evening skirt that crawled like a snake on the ground
behind her. Her corsage revealed to advantage her broad, heavily powdered
shoulders and full bosom.

Guy, his face taut with distaste, whispered: 'If
she were a better actress, she'd manage to squeeze out a tear.'

Angela remained calm until the cortege reached
her then, looking askance, seeing the coffin a few inches from her, she broke
into agonized sobs that could be heard beneath the thumping and grinding of the
organ. There was some furtive glancing back by the distinguished guests in the
front row. Aware of nothing but her own grief, Angela sank down to her seat and
buried her face in her hands, abandoning herself to heart-broken weeping that
went on throughout the service.

The service over, Mona left the cathedral in
front of the coffin, her head now raised to denote a ceremony completed. As the
seats emptied, Guy and Harriet remained with Angela, making no move until it
seemed likely that the hearse would have set out for the English cemetery. But
Mona was in no hurry to curtail her advantage as hostess. When Guy supported
Angela out to the porch, the hearse still stood by the kerb while Mona moved
about among her select guests. She had found no one to escort her behind the
coffin but there were several prepared to companion her for an evening's
drinking. She gave a quick, elated glance at Angela's bedraggled hat and
defeated figure, then she seized Guy by the arm: 'You're coming to Mahdi,
aren't you?'

Guy excused himself, saying he had an
appointment at the Institute.

She still held to him: 'You know there's to be
an evening reception, don't you? I've arranged for a tent to be put up behind
Suleiman Pasha. I thought we'd get our first at the Britannia Bar then move on
to Groppi's and the George
V,
and
reach the reception about six o'clock. You can pick us up somewhere, can't
you?'

Though Harriet and Angela were standing on
either side of him, Mona made it clear that the invitation was for Guy alone.
He muttered discouragingly: 'I'll come if I can.'

The hearse was an old Rolls-Royce decorated with
black ostrich plumes and black cherubs holding aloft black candles. Angela kept
her eyes on the coffin with its great carnation wreath and as the equipage
moved off, stared after it as though by staring she could bring Castlebar back
alive.

Watching the string of cars that took Mona and
her guests away, Harriet said: 'She's spending a lot of money, isn't she?'

Guy told her: 'It's all on the university. She's
not only getting her widow's pension but a large grant from funds. She's had to
put up some sort of show, and she thinks Bill would have wanted it.'

Guy conducted the women to the Semiramis and
left them there. Harriet sat in the shuttered gloom of the Royal Suite, keeping
watch over Angela, imagining she had no consciousness of time, but at exactly
six o'clock, she sat up: 'Let's go and look at the reception tent.'

Still in her black dress but without a hat,
Angela held to Harriet's hand as they went in a gharry through the crowded
streets. The fog of heat still hung in the air. The faded pink of the evening
sky was streaked with violet. It was the time when windows, unnoticed during
the day, were lighted up, revealing a world of mysterious life behind the
dusty, gimcrack facades of buildings. For Angela none of this existed. There
were no crowds, no sky, no windows, no life of any kind. She sat limp, waiting
to see the tent, the last vestige of the lover she had lost.

The tent was not easy to find. There were a
number of small midans behind Suleiman Pasha and the gharry wandered around, up
one lane and down another, until at last they came on it: a very large, square,
canvas tent appliquéd all over with geometrical designs and flowers cut from
coloured cloth. The flap was tied back to catch what air there was and the two
women could see something of the interior. Carpets overlapped each other on the
ground and there were a great many small gilt chairs. The scene was fit by the
greenish glow of butane gas. The guests were near the open flap. There were not
many of them and those that Harriet recognized were the hardened remnants of
Mona's drinking acquaintances. She could see Cookson with his hangers-on Tootsie
and Taupin. Then, to her surprise, an unlikely figure moved into sight.

'Look who's there - Jake Jackman!'

Angela did not care who was there. She stared at
the tent and beyond the tent into emptiness, her face a mask of hopeless
longing.

When Mona came near the entrance, her black hem
still snaking after her, Harriet felt they had better go. They drove back to
the hotel where Angela refused to eat but, worn out by despair, went willingly
to bed.

Harriet, walking home, met Major Cookson and
Tootsie. Cookson was in a nervous state and very eager to talk: 'My dear, the
funeral! It began so well but ended, I fear, on an unpleasant note.' He told
her that Mona, finding she was entertaining not the select few but Jake Jackman
and others like him, became bored and resentful. She allowed them a couple of
drinks each then told them if they wanted any more, they would have to pay for
them.

'Dear me!' said Cookson. 'What a scene! Just
imagine how Jake reacted to such an announcement! I am afraid there was a bit
of a fracas. Tootsie and I felt it better to leave.'

'What was Jake Jackman doing there? Is he back
for good?'

'Well, no. To tell you the truth, he's being
sent to England under open arrest. He's to go on the next troopship.'

'What do you think will happen to him there?'

'I don't know. Probably nothing very much.'

Returning to the Royal Suite next morning,
Harriet found Angela surrounded by all her sumptuous luggage and clothing. She
was attempting to pack and said: 'I can't stand this room a moment longer. It's
so
...
so vacant. I haven't slept all
night. The place depresses me. I really hate it. Look at that beastly view. I'm
sick of the sight of it.'

'Where will you go?'

'God knows. Nobody needs me now.'

'Angela, I need you.'

Angela shook her head, not believing her, and
Harriet said: 'Come back to Garden City with me. Your room is just as you left
it. There's only Guy and Dobson now and if you don't come, I'll be alone most
evenings. So, you see, I need you. Will you come?'

'Would Dobson have me back?'

'You know he would. Will you come?'

Angela dropped the clothes she was holding and
sighed. Like a lost and trusting child, she put out her hand, 'Yes, if you want
me. You know, this is the end of my life. No one will ever love me again.'

'I love you.' Feeling that enough had been said,
Harriet stuffed the clothes into the gilt-bound crocodile and pigskin cases
then rang down to the porter and ordered two gharries. When Angela first
arrived in Garden City she had brought two gharries, one to take her excess
luggage, and she would return with two gharries.

Awad spent the morning piling the cases under
the window in Angela's old room that looked out on the great, round head of a
mango tree. The air was very hot and filled with the scent of drying grass.

'Home again,' Harriet said.

Angela smiled and, putting her head down on the
pillow she had so often shared with Castlebar, she said: 'I think I can sleep
now,' and closed her eyes and slept.

It was some days before Guy, wrapped up in his
many interests, realized that Angela had become a permanent inmate of the flat.
He had seen her at mealtimes and had imagined she was seeking the consolation
of company: then he met her coming out of the bathroom wrapped up in a towel
and it occurred to him to ask Harriet: 'Is that crazy woman back here for
good?'

'If you mean Angela - yes, she is.'

'How did she manage that? I'm sure you didn't
encourage her?'

'I did encourage her. In fact, I persuaded her
to come.'

'Then you must be as mad as she is. She took
poor Bill Castlebar away and finished him off. Heaven knows what she will do to
you.'

Guy was angry but Harriet was not affected by
his anger. She said firmly: 'Angela helped me when I needed help; now, if I
can, I'll help her. So don't try and influence me against her. You have your
friends; let me have mine.'

Guy was startled by her tone and she remembered
how Angela had advised her to box his ears. And that, in a sense, was what she
had done. After his first surprise, he was clearly uncertain how to deal with
the situation. Harriet was moving out from under his influence. She had gone
away once and had, apparently, managed very well on her own. He was unnerved
by the possibility she might go away again. Even more unnerving was the
possibility that Angela, who had taken Castlebar from him, should now attempt
to steal Harriet.

He said: 'Apart from anything else, Angela is
rich. She's used to a completely different way of life. It would be a mistake
to put too much trust in a woman like that. Sooner or later, she'll go off as
she did last time.'

Guy waited for Harriet to relinquish her
independent attitude and agree with him, but she did not agree. She said
nothing and Guy, taking hold of her hands, felt it best to be generous: 'I know
you are lonely sometimes and if you're fond of Angela and feel she's a friend,
well and good. But don't forget our life will change when the war ends. It will
all be different then. I'll have much more free time and we'll do everything
together.'

'Will we?' Harriet doubtfully asked.

'Of course we will.' Lifting her hands to his
lips, he murmured: 'Little monkey's paws!' Then remembering some pressing
business elsewhere, he put them down, saying: 'I have to go but don't worry; I
won't be late.'