The Alexandria Quartet - Lawrence Durrell [487]
Nimrod sipped his coffee reflectively and cocked a quizzical eye in my direction, proud of his mimicry. ‘And now’ he said, throwing up his hands, ‘El Scob….’
A crowd of painted girls passed down the street, brilliant as tropical parrots and almost as loud in their chattering and laughing. ‘Now that Abu Zeid’ said Nimrod ‘has taken the Mulid under his patronage it’s likely to grow into a bit of headache for us. It’s such a crowded quarter. This morning he sent a whole string of he-camels on heat into the town with bercim clover. You know how horrible they smell. And when they’re in season they get that horrible jelly-like excrescence on their necks. It must irritate them or suppurate or something for they’re scratching their necks the whole time on walls and posts. Two of them had a fight. It took hours to untangle the affair. The place was blocked.’
Suddenly a series of bangs sounded from the direction of the harbour and a series of bright coloured rockets traced their splendid grooves across the night, drooping and falling away with a patter and a hiss. ‘Aha!’ said Nimrod with self-satisfaction.
‘There goes the Navy. I’m glad they remembered.’
‘Navy?’ I echoed as another long line of rockets tossed their brilliant plumage across the soft night.
‘The boys of H.M.S. Milton’ he chuckled. ‘I happened to dine on board last night. The wardroom was much taken by my story of an old Merchant Seaman who had been beatified. I naturally did not tell them very much about Scobie; least of all about his death. But I did hint that a few fireworks would be appropriate as coming from British mariners, and I also added that as a political gesture of respect it would earn them good marks with the worshippers. The idea caught on at once, and the Admiral was asked for permission. And there we go!’
We sat for a while in companionable silence watching the fireworks and the highly delighted crowd which saluted each salvo with long quivering exclamations of pleasure. ‘All — ah!
All — ah!’ Finally Nimrod cleared his throat and said: ‘Darley, can I ask you a question? Do you know what Justine is up to?’
I must have looked very blank for he went on at once without hesitation. ‘I only ask you because she rang me yesterday and said that she was going to break parole today, come into town deliberately, and that she wanted me to arrest her. It sounds quite absurd — I mean to come all the way into town to give herself up to the Police. She said she wanted to force a personal interview with Memlik. It had to be me as reports from the British officers on the force would carry weight and draw Memlik’s attention. It sounds a bit of a rigmarole doesn’t it? But I’ve got a date with her at the Central Station in half an hour.’
‘I know nothing about the matter.’
‘I wondered if you did. Anyway, keep it under your hat.’
‘I will.’
He stood up and held out his hand to say good-bye. ‘You ’re off tonight I gather. Good luck.’ As he stepped down from the little wooden platform he said: ‘By the way, Balthazar is looking for you. He’s somewhere down at the shrine — what a word!’
With a brief nod his tall figure moved away into the brilliant swirling street. I paid for my drink and walked down towards Tatwig Street, bumped and jostled by the holiday crowd. Ribbons and bunting and huge coloured gonfalons had been hung from every balcony along the street. The little piece of waste land under the arched doors was now the most sumptuous
of saloons. Huge tents with their brilliant embroidered designs had been set up creating a ceremonial parade ground where the dancing and chanting would be held when the procession reached its destination. This area was crowded with children. The drone of prayers and the shrill tongue-trills of women came from the shrine which was dimly lit. The suppliants were invoking fruitful-ness of Scobie’s bath-tub.