moved out for the occasion. The tartan and the tweeds toned with the panelling of the walls and the wood toned well with the whisky. The chandeliers and the tumblers sparkled and the Mess servants made friends with some of the grand ladies which, after all, is always a sign of a good party.
The same grand ladies, when they were not making friends with the Mess servants or keeping Sandy Macmillan at a safe distance, concentrated on the Colonel. Some waited in their corners until he came to them while others, a little older and a little keener, moved through the throng to meet him. They all had a shot at penetrating his defences. Only one person had anything like a success, and she wished she had not spoken.
‘You ought to have had a girl friend to keep you company when you greeted us in the hall.’
A slight smile: ‘Yes? My Adjutant offered to help.’
‘We’ve got lots of presentable girls you know: you’d be surprised.’
‘Really?’
‘We’ll get you a wife.’
‘As a matter of fact I have had one of those.’
‘Oh. Oh, really?’ The girl put her weight back on one heel.
But it only added to the mystery of the man.
Even Morag had a try at opening the oyster. She was in her smartest cherry hat – one with a snout to it – and she wore a black tailored coat and court shoes. The Colonel found her alone, and he recognised her again, immediately. She refused a cigarette from his little silver case; it was one of those old-fashioned cases with a curve in it to fit closely to chest or hip. Morag was standing alone, not because she did not know anybody there, but because she liked to stand alone when she was not enjoying herself. Several officers had come to make conversation to her, but she frightened them away. Simpson tried valiantly.
‘What a smart hat!’
‘This thing?’
‘It’s awfully smart.’
‘Och, I picked it up in the sales for one-and-nine.’ Morag did not smile. Her common sense was almost militant.
‘How clever of you,’ Simpson replied pleasantly, but the answer was as sharp as before.
‘Not very. It’s just common sense. If you get up early enough you get the bargains.’
‘I think I’d be frightened to death. All those women fighting for the best bargain.’
‘Oh yes.’ She looked at him as if she thought him stupid, and he offered her some snacks, but she had no time for them.
‘Too fattening?’ Simpson suggested with a smile, and she replied, ‘I wouldn’t know about that.’
After that he was stuck with her for a little time and they talked about some of the other people near them. Then she said, ‘You’d better go and give them their sardines,’ and not with grace, but with relief, he took his opportunity.
But she was more forthcoming with the Colonel, who did not make the mistake of flattering her.
‘D’you enjoy things like this?’ she asked him, and before he had time to reply she said, ‘Neither do I,’ and he smiled.
‘They serve a purpose, I suppose.’
‘Colonel Barrow, I don’t fancy it’s the time or place …’ she said, and she hesitated. Barrow’s mouth tightened a little, and he looked at her severely. But nothing could stop Morag when she wanted to say something. She was as firm as the regimental Douglas Jackson.
‘Whatever Father’s said, don’t think I don’t see how difficult it must be for you …’ But there was no getting closer to the Colonel. He leant back on his heel, and looked round the room. She only saw the side of his face when he replied, ‘How kind of you to say so. You mustn’t worry.’
‘I wanted to say that.’
‘I’m grateful to you. Now, have you met …’ But as the Colonel looked round for a spare subaltern, Jock shouldered his way closer. He flicked his head at Barrow.
‘Aye. You’ve met Morag?’
The Colonel looked nervous. ‘Oh yes. Delighted.’ He waved his glass and nodded. ‘If you’ll excuse me.’ He picked his way through the crowd rather as if he were frightened of it. Two or three groups opened like a flower to let the queen bee land, but he hovered and moved on again, farther round the room. His face was the face of anxiety. But that again only endeared him to the ladies.
Sometimes, and all of a sudden, they felt that it was only right that he should be called Boy. In spite of the grey hair, he looked like a child at a party; looked as if he had lost his way. And that, to regimental women, is something very attractive: their own husbands are always so vehement in protesting that they know where they are going. When Jock saw one of these take him by the hand and draw him into a group, it sickened him.
‘Well, Father?’ He had said nothing to Morag.
‘A-huh. Well, you seemed to be talking with him very seriously.’
‘I was just warning him what a bear you are.’
‘Aye. What did you say?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Well you looked bloody pleased about it. He’s no the Brigadier you know; he’s just another colonel.’
Morag looked angry. The muscle in her cheek moved and she looked down at her feet.
‘I meant no harm,’ she said. ‘For goodness sake.’
‘Look at them now: look at them. You know these are the same women that made such a bloody fuss over me in forty-five. But I couldn’t cope with them. You wouldn’t remember. I was bloody rude to them.’
‘I’m sure,’ she replied, tightly.
Because some of the best-behaved subalterns and their blonde partners asked him politely, if persistently like little children, the Colonel allowed them to dance in the main hall, and the pipers were duly organised. Most of the grown-ups left about then which, as things turned out, was a blessing for Barrow; but the rest of them really settled down to enjoy themselves. In the billiards room, one or two of the wives were all blouse and colour by now, and Dusty Millar was very drunk, but Jock and some of the others came through in a group, abreast, towards the dancing. Morag stayed until the pipers arrived. They both knew her and smiled politely, but in spite of Douglas Jackson’s grip on her arm, she stayed no longer.
The Colonel disappeared into the ante-room once again, when the dancing began. But later, as the noise in the hall increased, he grew more and more nervy and two or three times he ignored altogether remarks put to him by his guests. The noise from the hall grew in gusts and it was soon clear that the style of dancing was diverging very far from the lines laid down by the Pipe-Major at the early morning classes. Seeing the Colonel’s face, nobody in the ante-room could think of anything else and the whole Mess seemed to be shaking.
Suddenly Barrow could stand it no longer. It was as if he had known all along that the party was building up to this. He detached himself
