The Empire Trilogy - J. G. Farrell [80]
“Yes, yes, to be sure,” agreed the Major dubiously. “It must end soon. That’s what we used to say in the trenches,” he added with a faint smile.
“Of course, of course,” O’Neill said, failing to perceive the Major’s irony. “You can take my word for it. I’ve just been having a drink with the army lads we have here now and I don’t think they’ll stand for much nonsense from Paddy Pig.”
“You mean the men staying at the Majestic? I didn’t think they had much time for us locals.”
“They’re splendid chaps, you can take it from me,” replied O’Neill, who was now taking off his bulging jacket and showed less sign of leaving than ever. “It’s just that they don’t really know who they can trust over here and, frankly, I don’t blame them for that. Come in with me now to the bar and I’ll introduce you.”
“Really, thanks all the same...” protested the Major, but O’Neill was already on his feet and beckoning imperiously with a forearm as thick as a leg of lamb. The Major followed him reluctantly. O’Neill’s studded shoes clicked on the tiles of the corridor and bit into the worn wood of the locker room where a fat naked gentleman was vigorously towelling his quivering bottom. They passed through into the Members’ Bar.
“Just a minute,” the Major said. “There’s someone I must say hello to.”
Mr Devlin, dapper and smiling, was hastening towards him. He was delighted to see the Major back amongst them once more and must express his thanks for the kindness he had shown to his daughter Sarah on her way to France and how was the Major’s dear auntie who had also been so kind...(“Ah, deceased is she? Indeed now, I’m sorry to hear it.”) And was the Major himself in better health than he had been? It must have been a great worry and a terrible grief for him to be losing his auntie like that...And as for Sarah she would be back one of these days and he knew that she would look forward to seeing the Major as much as he himself did and besides they would probably be meeting here at the links from now on because he had “a little job to do”...He paused expectantly.
“Oh?”
Yes, he’d be spending some considerable time here in the evenings because he had been elected treasurer, there was a notice on the notice-board, the Major probably hadn’t had a chance to see it yet. “And it’s all thanks to the influence of a certain person who has been very good to me and my family, very good...I’ll say no more...it’s a great honour.”
The “men from the trenches,” four of them, were sitting together at the curve of the bar by a window looking out over the eighteenth green and the gently ascending slope of fairway that led up to it. None of the members, apart from O’Neill, were sitting near them, and for a good reason. They had caused some dismay, the Major had heard, by installing themselves here without invitation; after all, there was a lounge available for ladies and non-members (providing that they were respectable); the secretary had affably pointed this out on the occasion of their first visit. They had listened politely enough; there had not been a scene. But though there had not been a scene the trouble was that they had not moved either. The secretary’s smile had to some extent congealed on his lips but, as he explained to a special meeting of the committee, these fellows were, after all, over here risking their lives to maintain law and order in Ireland (not to mention the fact that they also happened to be armed to the teeth), so one did not want to deal too harshly with them, throw them out on their ears and so forth. The committee had pondered the problem and come up with a solution brilliant