The Heart of the Matter - Graham Greene [6]
‘What about me?’ He gave her a bright fake smile; so much of life was a putting off of unhappiness for another time. Nothing was ever lost by delay. He had a dim idea that perhaps if one delayed long enough, things were taken out of one’s hands altogether by death,
‘She says the Commissioner’s retiring, and they’ve passed you over.’
‘Her husband talks too much in his sleep.’
‘Is it true?’
‘Yes, I’ve known it for weeks. It doesn’t matter, dear, really.’
Louise said, ‘I’ll never be able to show my face at the club again.’
‘It s not as bad as that. These things happen, you know.’
‘You’ll resign, won’t you, Ticki?’
‘I don’t think I can do that, dear.’
‘Mrs Castle’s on our side. She’s furious. She says everyone’s talking about it and saying things. Darling, you aren’t in the pay of the Syrians, are you?’
‘No, dear.’
‘I was so upset I came out of Mass before the end. It’s so mean of them, Ticki. You can’t take it lying down. You’ve got to think of me.’
‘Yes, I do. All the time.’ He sat down on the bed and put his hand under the net and touched hers. Little beads of sweat started where their skins touched. He said, ‘I do think of you, dear. But I’ve been fifteen years in this place. I’d be lost anywhere else, even if they gave me another job. It isn’t much of a recommendation, you know, being passed over,’
‘We could retire.’
‘The pension isn’t much to live on.’
‘I’m sure I could make a little money writing. Mrs Castle says I ought to be a professional. With all this experience,’ Louise said, gazing through the white muslin tent as far as her dressing-table: there another face in white muslin stared back and she looked away. She said, ‘If only we could go to South Africa. I can’t bear the people here.’
‘Perhaps I could arrange a passage for you. There haven’t been many sinkings that way lately. You ought to have a holiday.’
‘There was a time when you wanted to retire too. You used to count the years. You made plans - for all of us.’
‘Oh well, one changes,’ he said.
She said mercilessly, ‘You didn’t think you’d be alone with me then.’
He pressed his sweating hand against hers. ‘What nonsense you talk, dear. You must get up and have some food...’
‘Do you love anyone, Ticki, except yourself?’
‘No, I just love myself, that’s all. And Ali. I forgot Ali. Of course I love him too. But not you,’ he ran on with worn mechanical raillery, stroking her hand, smiling, soothing. . .
‘And Ali’s sister?’
‘Has he got a sister?’
‘They’ve an got sisters, haven’t they? Why didn’t you go to Mass today?’
‘It was my morning on duty, dear. You know that’
‘You could have changed it. You haven’t got much faith, have you, Ticki?’
‘You’ve got enough for both of us, dear. Come and have some food.’
‘Ticki, I sometimes think you just became a Catholic to marry me. It doesn’t mean a thing to you, does it?’
‘Listen, darling, you want to come down and eat a bit Then you want to take the car along to the beach and have some fresh air.’
‘How different the whole day would have been,’ she said, staring out of her net, ‘if you’d come home and said, ‘Darling, I’m going to be the Commissioner.’’
Scobie said slowly, ‘You know, dear, in a place like this in war-time - an important harbour - the Vichy French just across the border - all this diamond smuggling from the Protectorate, they need a younger man.’ He didn’t believe a word he was saying.
‘I hadn’t thought of that.’
‘That’s the only reason. You can’t blame anyone. It’s the war.’
‘The war does spoil everything, doesn’t it?’
‘It gives the younger men a chance.’
‘Darling, perhaps I’ll come down and just pick at a little cold meat’
‘That’s right dear.’ He withdrew his hand: it was dripping with sweat. ‘I’ll tell Ali.’
Downstairs he shouted ‘Ali’ out of the back door.
‘Massa?’
‘Lay two places. Missus better.’
The first faint breeze of the day came off the sea, blowing up over the bushes and between the Creole huts. A vulture flapped heavily upwards from the iron roof and down again in me yard next door. Scobie drew a deep breath; he felt exhausted and victorious: