the badge of rank. It can be forgotten now.’
The other protested. ‘Oh no, sir, it’s no as bad …’
Jock raised his hand.
‘Man to man.’ He sat back on the window seat, his coat ruffled about him, his knees apart. ‘What are you thinking?’
‘You didn’t know about the young man?’
‘No.’
The Pipe-Major raised his head again. ‘She didn’t tell you?’
‘No.’
‘Maybe it was a shock. Just that.’
‘A-huh.’ Jock looked out of the window, idle again.
And at last the Pipe-Major spoke out: ‘I know he’s a corporal, sir: but he’s a good lad. He’s no a fly-by-night, Ian Fraser. His father’s a farmer up by Forres there.’
Jock moaned and he pushed his legs out in front of him. His heels clicked on the floor, and he shook his head backwards and forwards as he tried to find words.
‘Did you think that? Och, man … For Christ’s sake. I expected Mr Simpson to say that – not you. I expected every old school tie from here to St James’s Palace to say that …’ He shook his head again, clicked his fingers to correct himself. ‘That’s not right either. I expected half of them to say just “You know Jock – a ranker born, a ranker aye”; and the others I expected to say what you’re saying. I mean the complex boys. The doctor with his fingers tangled in his hair. “Jock’s self-made,” he’ll say, only he’ll say it with a lot of whys and wherefores, and “should have thoughts” and “in effects” and all that caper.’
The Pipe-Major was a little mystified. He frowned as he tried to follow and Jock rambled on. ‘“It’s no wonder Jock was so upset when he saw his lassie with a corporal.” Ach. To hell. I’ve never had time, Mr McLean, I’ve never had time to get as complicated as that. I leave all that to the county.’ For the first time that morning a twinkle of humour lit his eyes. ‘I’ve been most things, Mr McLean, but I’ve never been a Regimental Sergeant-Major.’
The Pipe-Major understood and smiled, then Jock went on.
‘Nach, nach. To hell with that. Whatever they may like to believe I’ve never had any worries about class. Aye, and I’m sorry. It hurts me that you should think that of me.’ Then he added, ‘And me a piper, too.’
Jock’s intelligence was never to be underestimated. Whether he thought out the moves, and played the game accordingly, or whether the outburst was spontaneous, the Pipe-Major did not stop to think. But his words could not have fallen on more sympathetic ears. Mr McLean, even so early in the morning, began to glow, and to nod. His eyes glistened with favour.
‘Aye, sir, and I hold the same views as you do, though they being so near the politics it’s no my job to express them. I’m glad of what you’ve said to me. If it had been the other way I couldn’t have felt the same at all. We have no place for class here in a Highland Regiment. No place at all. But we’re as well disciplined as the next, are we not?’
The Pipe-Major was throbbing with enthusiasm, and Jock glanced at him slantwise. His eyes were moving quicker now. He was on his feet again, twisting and gesturing.
‘Mr McLean, you’ve been with the Battalion a while.’
‘Seventeen years, sir.’
‘Aye. All through the war.’
‘I didn’t miss any of it.’
‘You were hurt, once?’
‘Aye. On the great day. I was playing then. I was piping when you took over command.’ He allowed himself a moment of pride. ‘And I still played when they took me back and bound up my leg.’
‘Aye, I remember.’ Jock paused and they both remembered the day. Then Jock spoke again. ‘They were the days of my glory, Mr McLean. Nobody can deny me that. They were the days of my glory,’ he said with wily tragedy. ‘Nobody would ever want to deny you those days.’ Mr McLean clenched his jaw with the sort of vigour that usually takes whisky. He was not usually boisterous in his loyalty, but this was an exceptional moment. ‘Not any piper anyway. I’ll see to that.’
‘Even if I strike him?’ Jock looked up suddenly, his eyes pale.
Mr McLean was about to answer warmly again. But he hesitated when he saw where the conversation had led him, and he was ashamed that he could not answer straight. He let his head drop and put two fists on his knees. ‘Colonel Sinclair. Colonel Sinclair.’ Jock gave a weary smile. ‘Och, never mind.’ He rose to his feet, preparing to leave, and Mr McLean talked fast and anxiously.
‘It’s not an important thing. It will come out that it’s not an important thing. It is a pity; no more. Sir, if it were only Corporal Fraser and myself there’d be no need … but you must see. There were others there. There was the landlord and the other pipers. It is not possible to ignore it. It would not be right for me. I cannot forget it. But it will soon blow away.’
Jock shook his head. ‘It’ll go to court martial.’ ‘The Colonel could deal with it.’ ‘The Colonel will put it to Brigade. It will go to court martial.’
The Pipe-Major sighed. He knew very well that was the truth. He smiled sadly. ‘I wish I had a television set. I’ve never wished it before. But if I had a television set perhaps I would not have gone out at all.’ He grew serious again. ‘At the court martial they will see that it is not important. Then it will be forgotten.’
Jock shook his head again.
‘You know very well that if it goes as far as court martial, whatever the result, it is the end for me.’
‘No, no. It’ll be forgotten. They wouldn’t demote you on that.’
Jock looked at him steadily.
‘H.Q. Company Commander until they axe me. For Christ’s sake.’
Mr McLean fidgeted, and Jock went on, heatedly this time. ‘Man, the Battalion belongs to me; without it, there’s nothing else for me. D’you know that?’
‘I know that.’
‘If it goes to court martial, it will be the finish.’
The Pipe-Major grew agitated: ‘Colonel Sinclair. You are making it hard for me. It is my duty. No one could be more sorry than myself. Colonel Sinclair, I tell you, I’d walk the plank for you.’
‘Would you?’ He paused, then he moved away and he said, ‘Ach!’
He was suddenly unreasonably angry with the man. Mr McLean seemed to him too resilient to be human, a man sitting on his haunches, riding every punch. His eyes blazed up, he moved, suddenly, pushing his way through the furniture.
‘And tell me this; if there’s war tomorrow, who’s leading the Battalion? Eh?’
The Pipe-Major was hurt. He remained silent, and Jock passed him, saying, ‘Och, to hell with this.’
But
