Depending on the results of this independent enquiry a report would or would not go up to Brigade, putting the question of court martial. It was a very fair statement, and Barrow was at his best, a barrister in command of his brief. He seemed much concerned: seemed very sincere. He did not add an unnecessary word.
Charlie stroked his moustache, then he pouted.
‘Well there’s no doubt about it, is there?’
‘Please?’ The lines about Barrow’s eyes grew deeper in his anxiety.
Charlie gave a shrug. ‘Well, of course you’ve got to make an enquiry. We can’t have chaps poking corporals in the eye, after all.’
Jimmy’s fingers came together: he pitched forward in the low chair. He was so upset by Charlie’s reaction that it took him a moment or two to find words to express himself, even inadequately. He stuttered and made a false start. Then he came back again.
‘Charlie … of course we know that, but Jock … hell, it’s different. Jock’s always had his own methods.’ He stopped, and twisted. ‘Och. He must have had reason. If the Corporal was to put in a complaint it might be different, but you know what they are with regard to Jock up at Brigade. A thing like this would kill him. It’s dynamite. Surely the way to do it is for the Colonel here to have a word with him …’ Jimmy looked from one to the other. Barrow’s face was a blank. He stared hard at Charlie who was staring at his toes. Barrow said nothing; he just stared at Charlie with a strange amazement. At last Charlie lifted heavy eyelids and rested his baleful eyes on Jimmy.
‘ ’Fraid I can’t agree, old man,’ he said, and Jimmy felt cold.
‘But, Charlie …’
He was interrupted there. Charlie clambered to his feet, addressing Barrow. ‘ ’Course, it’s your decision.’
‘Of course,’ Barrow nodded, recovering himself.
‘It won’t make you very popular, I’m afraid.’
Barrow gave a stiff nod.
‘That’s the fate of a c.o.,’ he said bravely, and Charlie nodded. Jimmy was still groping about him, hopelessly, but the interview was already over.
‘Not nice at all,’ Charlie said, as he knocked along. He explained to Jimmy, at the door, that he had to trundle: there was some sort of kit inspection on that morning. But Jimmy would not let him go. He spoke almost in a whisper, and he made sure the door was closed behind him.
‘Charlie, we can’t let it go like this.’
Charlie shrugged.
‘Charlie, we can’t.’
‘Old chum: we’ve been boiling up to this for some time. It isn’t nice, but it’s one of those things. Old Jock’s on the rocky side. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d brained the chap.’
‘But it’ll finish Jock: it’ll fix him once and for all.’
‘That is a pity.’ Charlie drew himself up, and Jimmy looked down at his desk. Just before he went, Charlie said, ‘Don’t take it too hard, chum. I mean we’ve got to think of the Battalion sometimes. Have you ever seen such a shambles? That cocktail party, eh?’
‘That was half Barrow’s fault.’
Charlie smiled.
‘That’s quite another problem. But it’s Jock who led us into this state when all’s said and done. Did you see how he behaved over that dancing class? What? The old boy’s a warrior and all that but, old chum, it’s about time we had a colonel again, isn’t it? And just a fragment of discipline. How can you look after the Rattrays when you’ve Jock at the top?’
‘D’you think that? D’you really think that?’
‘Yep.’ Fraid I do.’
Jimmy tapped his fingers on the desk. ‘I’ve sometimes thought it,’ he admitted, unwillingly.
‘There you are. It’s rough I suppose. And really I don’t want to be involved. Couldn’t want to less. But maybe some day someone’ll put his nose over the barrack wall and really see what goes on. Then what? Eh? It’s not going to be nice at all.’
Jimmy wavered. ‘Maybe you’re right there. But Jock – well he’s different.’
‘Don’t let it give you ulcers, Jimmy. They’ll do the same to you and me one day. I must be rolling. Bloody kit inspection.’ Bye.’
Simpson, now one move behind events, was anxious to talk things over with Jimmy but he got no further information, and at last he went on his way, leaving Jimmy pacing up and down his little office, biting his lip and scratching his hair.
A few moments later his train of thought was disturbed by noises in the lobby outside, and he recognised Jock’s voice among them. He went out to discover Jock talking to Simpson and Mr Riddick.
Jock was still looking very crumpled, and if he had not been certain before, Jimmy was then certain of the truth of the story. It was written in every crease in Jock’s clothes, in the hang of his coat: it was written straight across his face. Jimmy was shocked by the sight of him.
Jock nodded good-morning to him.
‘Jimmy, what the hell’s going on here?’
But Jimmy had still not had time to recover himself. Mr Riddick in twenty years of loud shouting had never lost his voice, and always with his seniors he had a glibness.
‘Colonel Sinclair, sir, suggests the Commanding Officer ordered him here for interview this morning.’
Jock would never ordinarily have let Mr Riddick speak for him. He was the one man in the Battalion who could send him chasing: but he now made no complaint. He merely nodded and said, ‘The other night after the cocktails.’
Mr Simpson, in his fortnight as Assistant Adjutant, had developed the manner of an aide-de-camp. Everything was difficult if it concerned Barrow. Barrow was always busy.
‘The Colonel didn’t mention it this morning. Perhaps he intended to see Colonel Sinclair later.’
Jimmy looked at him as if he were very far away, then he looked hard at Mr Riddick.
‘I’ll cope with this.’ They moved, to go their separate ways. Jimmy looked at Jock and looked away again. ‘There must have been some muck-up. Hang on a minute, Jock, if you will. I’ll go and see him.’ He touched Jock on the elbow as he passed him. Jock nodded gratefully, like a patient at a clinic, and he wandered into Jimmy’s office and played with the inkpot on his desk while the other went next door to tackle Barrow. The sight of Jock fumbling with the inkpot touched Jimmy. He stared back at him through the doorway and he was suddenly ashamed and angry, both at once.
When Jimmy reminded him of the interview, Barrow rose from his seat and he said secretively:
‘Close the door Jimmy; close the door.’ And Jimmy wearily obeyed. ‘Look, I’d forgotten this one. It’s rather awkward. I don’t want to see him now. D’you think he knows?’
Jimmy
