Authors: Albert Cohen
'It's wonderful.'
'You bet it's wonderful! Can you imagine? Pitchforked up to an A in one go! And remember I never asked for anything! Can you imagine what sort of bloke he must be, sizing a person up in a couple of minutes, because this afternoon, you know, I didn't talk to him for more than four or five minutes at the outside, but that was enough for him, oh yes, he saw what sort of chap he was dealing with and he drew his own conclusions! He's a very shrewd reader of character! And what a fine man! You know, there's a lot of anti-Semitism about but I must say I don't understand it, it's beyond me! A race that's produced your Bergsons, your Freuds and your Einsteins! (A quick draw on the pipe orchestrated by bubbling dotde.) Oh yes! He saw the sort of person he was dealing with! So, am I in line for congratulations?'
'Yes of course: many congratulations on your promotion. You deserve it,' she added after a pause.
Beside himself with delight, he gave a broad grin which accentuated the roundness of his face. Drops of sweat glistened in his wispy beard. He kissed her ecstatically, then blew his nose. How marvellous to have such a marvellous wife! He put his Detachol-perfumed handkerchief away and sat down in his chair looking very pleased with himself.
'I say, what a shame you didn't stay on the first floor and wait for me. You should have seen the pair of us when we came out of his office! Walking up and down, chatting, just like a couple of old chums, and him with his hand on my arm! Just think, the same hand that takes Sir John by the arm, that very hand held the arm of yours truly! Oh, I was forgetting, when he said goodbye he asked me to present his respects to you. Yes, he said his respects. I thought that was a nice touch, because he doesn't really know you at all. He's every inch the gentleman. (He tapped her lightly on the cheek.) So there we are, Arianny, come the first of June I'm an A. The first of June, it's to do with the budget, the A slot in question doesn't fall vacant for another month, it's Sundar who's going, he's off back to India to run the office there with the rank of director of course, a real cushy number, lucky devil! But an A! Just think what it means! Twenty-two thousand five hundred and fifty smackeroons in gold-equivalent a year, and that's just to start with, because there'll be annual increments to come, don't forget! And in terms of status it's a huge leg-up! Because being an A means having a Persian carpet, a padded leather armchair for visitors, and a lockable glass-fronted bookcase instead of the open shelves Bs are entitled to! Oh, all very senior civil servant! (He was very excited and began leafing through a file without realizing what he was doing, then shut it and opened another.) A leather armchair because, you understand, an A has to see a lot more visitors, it's a job with a definite political dimension, you know. Talks. Overviews. And now, you see, I'll be able to have a couple of modern paintings on the wall! An A can please himself! And not any of your figurative daubs either, they'll be abstracts! And an inlaid box on my desk with the best cigarettes for visitors! Oh very head of section! And beside it a signed photo of the USG! I'll have a quiet word and ask him for one. I mean, someone who walks me around holding my arm, you'd think I'd be able to ask for a photo at a suitable moment, wouldn't you?'
'Yes, maybe.'
'Only maybe?'
'I meant definitely.'
'Oh, I see. So you think it would be all right for me to ask him for a photograph of himself?'
'Yes, I think so.'
'Me too. And another thing, you know, when I'm dealing with members of the Permanent Mandates Commission, I shall be in an altogether stronger position. If I've got anything to say to Volpi -he's the chairman and a marquis - things will be on a different footing from now on. And then the official visits will start rolling in! Because they give As political jobs that call for tact and diplomacy, subtlety, the broader view. (He rapped his forehead.) Damn, I'm forgetting the most important bit! Seeing he was in the right mood, I struck while the iron was hot and invited him to dinner! To make sure he'd accept, I went so far as to say you'd be so happy blah-blah-blah, I even said that when you'd got to know I was seeing him you told me I had to positively insist that he came to dinner, in other words I played on his weakness for the distaff side. Pretty smart, wouldn't you say? I mean you've got to use a spot of diplomacy now
and then. Whereupon he accepted - but not before the first of June, which is a month to go, said he wasn't free before then, as you can imagine people scratch each other's eyes out to have him! Unless of course he said June the first because that's my first day as an A, which would be extremely thoughtful of him, don't you think? Listen, we'll have to serve a different wine with every course. I've got a list of the best vintages in my card-index at home. And you, ducky, dressed to kill, evening gown, the lot, as befits the wife of an A! At dinner he'll be on your right, of course, and you'll be ravishing in a low-cut little number! Aren't you pleased, Arianny, to be having a really important person to dinner? Haven't you got anything to say?'
'I've a headache, I'd like to go home,' she said, and she stood up.
'But of course, I'll take you back straight away.'
'No, I need to be by myself for a while. I shan't be very well.'
He did not press her. He knew he had to tread warily when she said those fearful words: they were a warning signal, hoisted monthly, which heralded irritability, moodiness and floods of tears at the least provocation. No good trying anything on with her when she was like this, especially not the day before. Keep out of the way, say three bags full to everything, stay on the right side of her.
'Very well, darling,' he said, considerate and discreet, as we men always are at such moments, and, also like each one of us, O brothers mine, cowed by the imminent arrival of the mysterious dragon of femininity.
'You're right, angel, it'll do you good to go home and have a bath. Just as well you came in the car. You wouldn't maybe like to take a couple of aspirins before you go? I've got some here. No? All right, darling, as you wish. Look, I think I'll hang on here for a bit, it's five past eight but needs must. I really have to make a start on this blasted Memo. I'll be back late, eleven o'clock, even midnight, but it can't be helped.
Noblesse
grade A
oblige
and all that! (A quick in and out of the tongue.) Shall I walk you downstairs?'
'No thanks.'
'Fair enough. Right then, I'll say cheerio. Tell Mummy and Dada that I've had to stay on because something big's come up, but don't breathe a word about my promotion. I want to be the first to tell them.'
When his wife had gone, he got down to the British Memorandum. But on page four he straightened up. Should he keep the signed photo of the USG here, on his desk, or at home, in the drawing-room? If he put it on his desk it would shut VV up all right, but obviously it would go down tremendously well in the drawing-room at home, anybody dropping by would get a clear idea of the kind of circles he moved in. There was something to be said for both solutions. Should he ask for two signed photos? No, that would be over the top, it would look odd.
'Eureka!'
But of course! On evenings when he was expecting company, he'd take the photo on his desk home with him, smuggle it out in his attache case, and put it up in the drawing-room before any of the guests arrived, and then he'd bring it back to his office the next morning! Two birds with one stone! How's the time going? Eight twenty-nine.
He shut the Memo. No, it was asking too much! He was appallingly hungry. He wasn't going to die of starvation just to keep his highness the VV's hat straight! There were far more important things in life than all this bloody waffle from the British Colonial Office. Like what Dada and Mummy would say when they heard! Get home, put on a tragic face, say he'd been demoted, say he was now just an assistant member of section, and then suddenly come out with the big news! Hugs all round! Mummy crying! Champagne! The Memo could wait! After all, four weeks from now he'd be an A! To all intents and purposes he was already an A! And nuts to VV! He'd let him have his comments, but in his own good time, on A Day! He picked up the phone and dialled the number of the porter's lodge.
'A taxi for Monsieur Deume immediately.' He gave the order in his haughtiest voice, then replaced the receiver with a flourish.
With his felt hat worn broadside, he left, slamming the door behind him. In the corridor, he ran into a B he knew, tremendously keen chap, just transferred from the ILO, who was stuck in his old routine and was usually still there until eight or nine o'clock of an evening. He gave him an unusually effusive greeting and managed to resist the temptation of blurting out the good news, though at considerable cost. But watch your step, you could never tell. Until a promotion had actually gone up on the Staff Movements notice-board, you couldn't count on anything, it could be rescinded. So meantime, mum's the word, button the lip, not a whisper to anybody that might stir up trouble and protests. There'd be plenty of time to crow after the first of June. He'd get rid of the Chrysler and buy a Cadillac! And a little Fiat for Ariane, all to herself! She'd been a brick today, she really had! Oh yes, women liked winners! Everyone knew that.
' See that?' he whispered to his reflection in the mirror in the lift. 'That, old man, is an A!'
PART TWO
CHAPTER 10
Adrien Deume gave a contented sigh, pleased with himself for slotting his car between the two parked Cadillacs at the first attempt. He removed the keys from the ignition, checked that the windows were closed, got out, locked the door, tried the handle several times just to make sure, and gazed fondly at his car. Stunning motors, Chryslers! Amazing acceleration. Easy to handle yet so responsive. His sturdy walking-stick tucked under one arm and with the other holding the attache case which was the badge of the distinguished civil servant, he moved off briskly. May the twenty-ninth today. Three days from now, the first of June, was A Day, with a starting salary of twenty-two thousand five hundred and fifty smackers in gold-equivalent, rising with annual increments to a ceiling of twenty-six thousand! Not to be sneezed at, old man!
Reaching the lobby, he walked casually over to the Staff Movements board, made sure that no one was watching him and, as on previous days, feasted his eyes on the thrilling words which announced his promotion. Dazzled and transfixed, overcome by wonder as before a divine presence, he stood gazing at them for several minutes, taking them in, making them his, staring at them until they made his head spin. Yes, it was him, really him: Deume, grade A, with effect from the first of June. Three days, and he'd be an A! Could it really be true? Yes! the promise was there, before his very eyes, solemn and official!
'Sweety-pie,' he said to the mirror in the lift which bore him up to his work.
Getting out on the fourth floor, he spotted Garraud in the distance and his mouth watered at the thought of the compliments which were about to come his way. But poor Garraud, who was just a B, did not have the courage to pretend and did an about turn so that he would not have to say how very pleased for him he was. On the other hand, the congratulations offered by Castro, recently promoted to an A, who he ran into a few moments later, were heartfelt. The two As, one newly minted and the other impending, chatted cordially, Castro complaining of dreadful migraines and Adrien promptly giving him the name of his own doctor, the best in Geneva, as was everything he had. Then they formulated a few careful criticisms of the upper echelons of the Secretariat and their permanent mania for reorganizing everything. The Cultural Section, which had been closed down last year, had just been reopened, presumably so that they could close it down again next year. They exchanged knowing smiles and shook hands warmly.
'Castro's a decent enough fellow, a likeable sort,' Adrien murmured as he closed his office door behind him.
Yes, add Castro to the list of people he should ask round soon. On the other hand, cross off all the Bs, who were now infra dig. Except Kanakis, the minister's nephew, and in any case he'd soon be put up to an A, the little swine. He opened his small cupboard to get his working coat, then changed his mind. No, a man who would be an A three days from now shouldn't be seen in an old jacket. An A should be dignified at all times. He turned on his axis, sat down, and thought about his good fortune.
'Promotion — and official, by God, it's up on the board, by God, there's no going back on it now, I really put one across them! I don't mind telling you now, old man, I had the collywobbles all the time until my promotion was put up on the board! You never know, do you, last minute manoeuvrings behind the scenes and all that. But now, old man, it's up on the board, all signed and sealed! There's nothing you can do about it now, VV, you'll just have to lump it and look big. Besides, old man, the USG's coming to dinner at my house on the first of June. Hear that, VV? That's three days from now! Is he coming to dinner at your place? I very much doubt it! More coffee, Under-Secretary-General, old man? No, that's no good, much too familiar, it is only the first time after all. More coffee, sir? No that's not right either. More coffee? That's it, with a relaxed smile, as between people of similar background. The fly in the ointment is that Mummy and Dada will be there. Damn! What a rotten idea, bringing the date of their return from Brussels forward like that! They're bound to put their foot in it, Dada will for sure. Can't be helped, but at least it'll show the USG that I've pulled myself up by my bootstraps. But Ariane will be there and she'll make up for them. Now, let's get on with some work!'
Listlessly he reached for the British Memorandum and then pushed it away again. No, really, he couldn't face any kind of big job this morning, it was all a question of state of mind. He couldn't help it, it was outside his control. Anyway, it was almost twenty to eleven. Far too late to start on a task that size. He'd make up for lost time this afternoon. But mark you, old bean, from now on you get in on time every morning, never later than quarter past nine. Agreed, motion carried. But if for urgent and pressing reasons he should ever arrive exceptionally late, leave hat, stick and attache case in the car. Then, once the front entrance was safely negotiated, behold the model civil servant! Also carried. Now for a bit of a stroll through the corridors, it might help him to think up some undemanding job, a pottering affair, which would be in tune with his frame of mind. Besides, perhaps he needed to go to the lavatory. He'd know when he got there. He left his office with a melancholy look in his eye, for he felt genuinely bad about not working, couldn't rid himself of the thought of the baleful, bulky British Memorandum which sat waiting for him on his desk.