The Levant Trilogy (23 page)

Guy said, 'Oh,
not the spare room. Let's give up that damned tree. I hate the sight of it
staring at me through the window.'

'You can say
that,' said Harriet, "when you're in the very act of eating mangoes?'

Dobson, smiling
slyly, said, 'Still, Guy may be right. His could be an instinctive dislike.
People here call the mango "The Danger Tree". You know that in
England someone dies every year from eating duck eggs? - Well, in countries
where a lot of mangoes are eaten, someone dies from mango poisoning every
year.'

Edwina, who had
been putting out her hand for another mango, withdrew it, saying, 'Dobbie, how
could you! What a horrid joke!'

'It's not a joke.
The stems are poisonous and sometimes the poison seeps into the fruit It
doesn't happen often but people
are
killed by it.'

Harriet joined
with Edwina's indignation. 'You're an awful liar, Dobbie. If it were true, you
would have told us straightaway.'

'Ha!' Dobson
smiled. 'Had I told you straightaway, you would have said, "The greedy
fellow wants to keep his mangoes for himself."'

Percy Gibbon gave
his usual angry grunt and left the table. Guy, helping himself to another
mango, said to Harriet, 'You see, I was right. The tree's a bad tree. We must
give it up.'

Harriet knew she
would have to give it up. Guy seldom asked anything for himself so when he did,
he must have his way. She did not speak and he added persuasively, 'You don't
really mind giving it up, do you?'

'No, I don't
mind. Not really.' Harriet asked Dobson when they would have to move.

'Soon, I'm
afraid. I don't know exactly when she's arriving but, of course, the place will
have to be scrubbed out.'

The room had not
been scrubbed out for Guy and Harriet who had taken it dust and all. Speaking
of the friend who would soon arrive - a female friend, it seemed - Dobson had
betrayed the same deference that had been induced in him by Peter Lisdoonvarna.
Dobson's friends belonged to a higher social order than Dobson's lodgers and
Harriet, who was not likely to know her, did not ask the newcomer's name.

Peter
Lisdoonvarna returned three days later. This time Edwina, ready dressed, was
waiting for him but Peter was in no hurry to take her away. Settling down in
the sofa, he gave Dobson more military gossip and was enjoying himself so much
that Edwina's gaze became strained in an effort to appear interested. When at
last he shuffled out of the sofa, Edwina was up before him but they were not
yet on their way. Peter stood in the middle of the room then, without warning
or explanation, went to the dining-table and thumped his fist down on it. He
shouted, 'Glory to the bleeding lamb,' then, marching round the table,
repeatedly banging it, his voice growing louder and louder, he bawled, 'Glory
to the bleeding lamb, I love the sound of Jesus' name. His spirit puts me all
in a flame, glory to the bleeding lamb.'

As this went on
and on, Harriet laughed to console Edwina but Edwina did not laugh: she looked
hurt and amazed. At last, coming to a stop from sheer exhaustion, he said,
'I'll tell you about that,' and threw himself back on to the sofa. 'We've got
this sect in the village at home. I forget what they call themselves - the holy
somethings or other. Not Rollers, no, not Rollers. Well, that's what they do,
the whole lot of them, men and women, children, too: they march in a circle
round and round the room, all yelling out, "Glory to the bleeding
lamb," etc. They go on till they're drunk with it,' and unable to control
his exuberance, he rose and returned to the table, hitting it and starting the
chant again. Edwina sank into a chair but this time a few rounds were enough
and, pulling her to her feet, he took her off, leaving the air still tingling
with his voice.

'How can Edwina
stand it?'

Dobson shook his
head. 'I agree, he's a boisterous fellow, but he's young. He'll grow out of it.'

Peter's
appearances were irregular. He would call for Edwina three nights running then
be out of sight for a week. Edwina stayed in, listening and yearning for the
telephone to ring. Harriet, concerned for her, said after one of his absences,
'Don't worry. Hell ring tomorrow.'

'Who?' Edwina
looked startled.

'Why, Peter, of
course.'

Edwina,
apparently unaware that anyone could read her obsession, gazed in wonder at
Harriet's percipience, then, free at last to speak, her emotion overwhelmed her
and she cried, 'Oh, Harriet, I do long for him.'

'I know. I can
see you're attracted by him.'

'It's more than
attraction. I... I adore him. I know he's not very good looking but he's
fascinating.'

'Yes, with all
that energy and confidence, he's compelling -but you must admit, Edwina, you're
a bit dazzled by the tide.'

Edwina made a wry
face, laughing at herself, but said, 'Any girl would be dazzled, wouldn't she?
I mean - surely you would be?'

'I don't know.
I've never been offered such a thing. But Edwina, between ourselves, do you
think he is likely to share his title with you?'

Edwina shrugged
and sighed, her face abject. I can't say. He's never serious. When someone's joking
all the time, how do you pin them down?'

'And you have
tried to pin him down?'

Edwina had to
agree and Harriet asked her, 'Does he tease you?'

'He does,
rather.'

'I'm afraid it's
a form of sadism. He's too sure of you and some men don't want to be sure.
They're excited by uncertainty. If you could hide your feelings, pretend that
all the jollity bores you, show an interest in someone else - it might sober
him up.'

Edwina fervently
agreed. 'You're right. Yes, I'm sure you're right.'

'Let him be the anxious
one.'

Edwina said,
'Yes,' but she still drooped in her desire for one person, and one person only.

'Next time, when
he rings, don't jump at his invitation. Say you have another engagement.'

'I'll do that.'
Resolved, Edwina looked at Harriet with glowing admiration. 'Harriet, how
clever you are!'

'Not clever, just
growing old.'

Harriet felt a
flattering sense of achievement but when next the telephone rang, Edwina ran to
it and, lifting the receiver, said, 'Peter, oh, Peter!' Listening to her
rapturous voice, Harriet knew that in future she might as well keep her advice
to herself.

Dobson expected
his guest to arrive on Sunday. On Saturday evening when Harriet was moving
their things into the small, spare room, the low sun, richly golden, spiked in between
the mango leaves. The ceiling, baked all day, exuded heat Smothered and dizzy,
Harriet could not imagine that Dobson's guest would tolerate for long the
monastic simplicity of this room or the heat that was condensed here during the
day, but if she did choose to stay, then the room would be her room, the tree
her tree, and Harriet might never come in here again. She looked back at the
tree that looked in at her and said, 'Good-bye, mango tree.' She dropped down
to the bed, putting off the arduous business of moving clothes, and was
half-asleep when she was startled by uproar outside the door.

Looking out, she
found Percy Gibbon, naked, in an evident state of sexual excitement and beside
himself with rage, beating his hands on Edwina's door and shouting, 'Open up,
open up.'

'What on earth
are you doing?'

'She's in there
with that bally lord.'

'What if she is?
It's none of your business.' Percy, his face distorted with indignation,
pointed to the baize door that was held ajar by Hassan and Aziz who clutched at
each other in mirth. Percy's condition, which had been farce, became scandal as
soon as Harriet appeared, and Hassan put up a long 'Uh, uh, uh!' of shocked
enjoyment. 'What do you think they think of it?' Percy asked.

'What do you
think they think of you? Look at yourself. Can't you see they're laughing at
you?'

Percy observed
himself and his anger crumbled at the sight. He began to whimper, 'It's her
fault. It's all her fault.'

'Go back to your
room.'

Harriet spoke
imperiously and when he obeyed, she turned on the safragis, ordering them away
with such scorn, they fled together. She decided to put a stop to their
insolence. She knew that they saw the inmates of the flat as immoral and
ridiculous, and they were contemptuous of a way of life they could not
understand. Recently she had realized that the safragis supposed Dobson's
tenants lived off Dobson's charity. A Moslem household was always full of
dependants and hangers-on and Edwina, Percy and the Pringles were despised for
their supposed penury. Dobson, she suspected, was aware of this and did
nothing to discourage it. He ruled that no money should be paid to him in front
of the servants but Guy, who could never remember such trivial proscriptions,
had recently thrown a bundle of bank notes across the table while Hassan was in
the room. 'Our share of the housekeeping,' said Guy and Dobson whipped the
notes out of sight, but Hassan had seen them and his eyes rolled in
astonishment.

Hassan now knew
that the lodgers paid their way. He had seen money change hands and to him
money was power. Harriet, wife of the man who had paid the money, had taken on
stature and she decided that in future Hassan and Aziz would keep their
contempt to themselves.

It was Wednesday
when the guest eventually turned up. She came at teatime when Harriet was
setting out for the midsummer reception at the Anglo-Egyptian Union. Guy had
agreed to go with her but, as usual, some engagement detained him and he
telephoned to say he would come later. The reception was a tea party merging
into an early evening wine party. He said, 'It'll go on all night, I'll get
there as soon as I can.'

Descending' into
the small front garden, where poinsettias grew like weeds, Harriet saw two
gharries at the kerb. One, it seemed, had been hired to take an excess of
luggage and Hassan, Aziz and the boab from the lower flat had been called out
to unload it. The cases, mostly of pigskin or crocodile, were elegant and their
owner, a tall woman in a suit of pink tussore,
looked as elegant as the cases. She was paying off the drivers and
her voice had a disturbing effect on Harriet who would have kept out of sight
had there been any point in doing so. Knowing they had to meet sooner or
later, she let the gate click and the woman turned.

'Hello. I'm
Angela Hooper. Do you live here?'

'Yes. Can I help
you with your things?'

Angela Hooper
said, 'We've met before, haven't we?' Apparently recalling nothing more
distressing than some past social occasion, she held out her hand. 'How nice to
see you again. I knew if I came to Dobbie's, I'd find congenial company.'

Neither Dobson
nor Edwina were at home so Harriet went back to the flat and showed Angela to
her room. 'I'm afraid it's very hot about this time of day.'

'Oh, I'm
conditioned to heat. I don't mind what the place is like. I just want to be
among friends.'

Harriet showed
her the bathroom then went to the sitting-room. Feeling it would be
discourteous to leave a newcomer alone in the flat, she waited while the cases
were brought up and stacked along the corridor.

Angela Hooper,
when she joined Harriet, was in no way discomposed by her unfamiliar
surroundings, but gazing at Harriet, her eyes brilliant with vivacious
inquiry, she said, 'You were going out, weren't you? Anywhere exciting?'

'Not very. In
fact, rather dull. There's a reception at the Anglo-Egyptian Union. They serve
wine later but the chief entertainment is the tea party because the Egyptian
guests, who come early and go early, are more likely to be there. I don't
suppose you would care for it?'

'Why not? I'm
ready for anything. Let's see if we can stop the gharries.' She ran to the balcony
and shouted down to the gharry drivers who had lingered in hope of a fare back
to the centre of town. Catching Harriet's arm, she said. 'Come on. I've had the
most boring journey. Let's go out and see life.'

It was now too
late for the tea party but as Guy had said, the drinking would go on all night.
On Bulaq Bridge the gharry steps were boarded by two small boys who had made
necklaces by stringing jasmin florets on to cotton. Clinging to the gharry with
dirty hands and feet, their galabiahs blown by the river wind, they shouted,
'Buy, buy, buy,' and swung the necklaces like censers in front of the women.
Their arms were hung with necklaces and the scent overpowered even the smell of
the gharry. Angla bargained with the boys who were glad of any reward for their
day's work. Taking the money, they sprang down, leaving a heap of jasmin in her
lap. Twilight was gathering and Angela, looking up into the glowing turquoise
of the sky, said, 'Oh, what fun to be back in Cairo!'

So she was back
in Cairo! But where, Harriet wondered, had she come from? And why had she taken
one of Dobson's small rooms when she had her own splendid house in the Fayoum?