Household Ghosts: A James Kennaway Omnibus. James Kennaway

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Household Ghosts: A James Kennaway Omnibus - James Kennaway Canongate Classics

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the Colonel said nothing to him. Instead, he let in the clutch and accelerated fast. He changed his gears swiftly, like an expert, and he took the corners round the square as if he were racing. He braked hard at the gate and Jimmy shouted ‘Colonel’ to the sentry, who stood aside. By the time he had presented arms, the jeep was clear of the barracks.

      In the Mess, the remainder – to use Mr Riddick’s term for any party which had lost some of its members, the remainder moved to the billiards room where the drink was handy on the table, and as they drank, each one of them grew more like himself. Jock began to sweat. Douglas Jackson grew harsher until he had no time for any man or any idea except stern discipline. Rattray grew more vehement about Barrow’s English accent, and the need for a Gaelic revival. Dusty Millar told story after story. The doctor was sitting on the step by the leather bench, like a mouse with a lot of hair. He said, ‘It’s surely significant that the quarrel should have revolved round such a primitive thing as folk dancing.’

      This united them.

      ‘Och, chuck it, Doc,’ Jock said irritably.

      ‘You and your Freud and all that Sassenach cock,’ Rattray said, and Dusty Millar echoed Jock.

      ‘Aye, chuck it, Doc. For chuck’s sake chuck it.’

      ‘What’ll I say the morn, eh?’ Jock said. ‘What’ll I tell him?’ and they began to make suggestions.

      * * *

      The Colonel drove for several miles and the cold night air rushing into the jeep did not leave Jimmy breath for any words of comfort. They drove fast out on the south road, which is wide and straight. But in the dips there were patches of fog, and two or three times Jimmy was sure they were bound for the ditch. A wisp appeared in the yellow light of the headlamp, another, then they were driving through a yellow wall. In a second they were clear again and Jimmy sighed and folded his arms to try and protect himself from the bitter cold. At last, quite suddenly, Barrow took his foot off the accelerator and the jeep slowed down; then, out of gear, it glided to rest at the side of the road. Barrow eased himself back in the seat.

      ‘What a childish thing to do,’ he said and he closed his eyes.

      His eyelashes were long and they came to rest on his cheek with a peculiar softness.

      Jimmy said, ‘Och, I don’t blame you. It’s one way of getting something out of your system. Though if I’d known the speed you were going to travel I’m not so sure I’d have come for the joy-ride.’

      The Colonel smiled faintly. ‘Childish.’

      ‘That fog’s nasty. But you can certainly drive a jeep.’ The compliment did not encourage the Colonel. He sat still, with his eyes shut, and Jimmy went on. ‘And it’s bloody cold too. You’ve got a coat on but I’m frozen stiff. With this kilt blowing about I’m not sure I’m all here, any more.’ He went on talking for a moment or two, saying nothing, but speaking in a voice of persuasive comfort and complete normality. At last the Colonel opened his eyes, and he began to move out of the jeep.

      ‘You drive,’ he said. ‘I’m in no state to drive.’

      ‘Have you had a couple?’ Jimmy said, moving into the driver’s seat as Barrow walked round to the other door.

      ‘It takes more than a couple to make a man of my age make a fool of himself.’

      ‘Och, people always do bloody silly things at Mess parties. It’s part of the tradition. I know somebody who once had …’

      ‘Not a Colonel.’

      ‘A colonel’s human, isn’t he? He has a heart?’

      ‘He shouldn’t have: only a complexion.’ Then he seemed to withdraw into his own world.

      ‘Drive on,’ he said at last. ‘Drive on.’ And taking it quite gently, Jimmy drove back to the cobbled streets. The street lamps had haloes round them like moons and there was no traffic on the road. But Jimmy never went in for dramatic gear-changing or fast cornering. He obeyed the law, and in the town they drove at under thirty miles an hour. He glanced at the Colonel who was staring straight in front of him. His expression was the expression of a boy being driven back to a boarding school he hates.

      ‘I think we’d best drop into the Station and get a bite to eat.’

      Barrow nodded, and bit his moustache. Jimmy had run out of conversation now. He drew up in the big yard outside the hotel and switched off the engine. Then he saw that Barrow had pitched forward and he was holding his head in his hand.

      ‘Ridicule’s always the finish. You know that?’

      ‘Who said anything about ridicule?’

      Barrow wagged his head irritably, and Jimmy found more words.

      ‘For God’s sake, Colonel. They behaved bloody badly and you’d the sense to get out. What’s wrong in that?’

      Barrow seemed to like that idea. He clung to it, again childlike.

      ‘Is that how it looked?’

      ‘That’s how it was.’

      They climbed out and Barrow breathed in deeply as they walked to the hotel door. ‘I say, thanks awfully,’ he said.

      ‘For what?’

      ‘For coming along like this. You know …’

      ‘It’s part of the service, Colonel; part of the service.’

      As the Colonel ate his meal Jimmy was keen to find excuses for him. They sat in the far corner of the large dining-room, on opposite sides of a small table. Jimmy rested his arms on the table leaning forward to listen to Barrow, and to talk to him in a low voice.

      ‘What was your job down in Whitehall? I never found that out.’

      The Colonel smiled his former weary but collected smile.

      ‘I gathered Jock had found out everything about me.’

      ‘Oh no. Eton and Oxford was as far as he got.’

      ‘That’s not strictly true, either.’

      ‘So?’ Jimmy leant farther forward.

      ‘I was only at school for a term or two. I had a private tutor most of the time.’

      Jimmy nodded. He said with sympathy, ‘Aye. Were you sick?’

      ‘No.’ The Colonel ate another mouthful before replying. ‘My people thought it was a better idea.’ The Colonel busied himself with the wine list. He felt uncomfortable. ‘Sounds strange, I know.’

      ‘Not all that.’ Jimmy shook his head. ‘Hell, I might as well not have gone to school at all. I spent half my time playing games in class and all that. I never listened to the teacher.’ There was a likeness between Jimmy and Jock which people often noticed. They were both heavy men, although Jimmy was only in his middle thirties, and they had the same forthright manner. But Jimmy smiled much more. As Adjutant he behaved to the subalterns much as a friendly sales manager behaves towards his representatives. He joked them into doing things.

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