The Valley of Bones - Anthony Powell [78]
‘Shall we go back to barracks?’
This designation of Castlemallock on Gwatkin’s part added nothing to its charms. He turned towards the bar as we were leaving.
‘Good night, Maureen.’
She was having too good a joke with the red-haired humorist to hear him.
‘Good night, Maureen,’ Gwatkin said again, rather louder.
She looked up, then came round to the front of the bar.
‘Good night to you, Captain Gwatkin, and to you, Lieutenant Jenkins,’ she said, ‘and don’t be so long in coming to see me again, the pair of ye, or it’s vexed with you both I’d be.’
We waved farewell. Gwatkin did not open his mouth until we reached the outskirts of the town. Suddenly he took a deep breath. He seemed about to speak; then, as if he could not give sufficient weight to the words while we walked, he stopped and faced me.
‘Isn’t she marvellous?’ he said.
‘Who, Maureen?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘She seemed a nice girl.’
‘Is that all you thought, Nick?’
He spoke with real reproach.
‘Why, yes. What about you? You’ve really taken a fancy to her, have you?’
‘I think she’s absolutely wonderful,’ he said.
We had had, as I have said, a fair amount to drink – the first time since joining the unit I had drunk more than two or three half-pints of beer – but no more than to loosen the tongue, not sufficient to cause amorous hallucination. Gwatkin was obviously expressing what he really felt, not speaking in an exaggerated manner to indicate light desire. The reason of those afternoon trances, that daydreaming while he nursed the Company’s rubber-stamp, were now all at once apparent, affection for Castlemallock also explained. Gwatkin was in love. All love affairs are different cases, yet, at the same time, each is the same case. Moreland used to say love was like sea-sickness. For a time everything round you heaved about and you felt you were going to die – then you staggered down the gangway to dry land, and a minute or two later could hardly remember what you had suffered, why you had been feeling so ghastly. Gwatkin was at the earlier stage.
‘Have you done anything about it?’
‘About what?’
‘About Maureen.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well, taken her out, something like that.’
‘Oh, no.’
‘Why not?’
‘What would be the good?’
‘I don’t know. I should have thought it might be enjoyable, if you feel like that about her.’
‘But I’d have to tell her I’m married.’
‘Tell her by all means. Put your cards on the table.’
‘But do you think she’d come?’
‘I shouldn’t wonder.’
‘You mean – try and seduce her?’
‘I suppose that was roughly the line indicated – in due course.’
He looked at me astonished. I felt a shade uncomfortable, rather like Mephistopheles unexpectedly receiving a hopelessly negative reaction from Faust. Such an incident in opera, I thought, might suggest a good basis for an aria.
‘Some of the chaps you meet in the army never seem to have heard of women,’ Odo Stevens had said. ‘You never know in the Mess whether you’re sitting next to a sex-maniac of nineteen or a middle-aged man who doesn’t know the facts of life.’
In Gwatkin’s case, I was surprised by such scruples, even though I now recalled his attitude towards the case of Sergeant Pendry. In general, the younger officers of the Battalion were, like Kedward, engaged, or, like Breeze, recently married. They might, like Pumphrey, talk in a free and easy manner, but it was their girl or their wife who clearly preoccupied them. In any case, there had been no time for girls for anyone, married or single, before we reached Castlemallock. Gwatkin was certainly used to the idea of Pumphrey trying to have a romp with any barmaid who might be available. He had never seemed to disapprove of that. I knew nothing of his married life, except what Kedward had told me, that Gwatkin had known his wife all their lives, had previously wanted to marry Breeze’s sister.
‘But I’m married,’ Gwatkin said again.
He spoke rather desperately.
‘I’m not insisting you should take Maureen out. I only asked if you had.’
‘And Maureen isn’t that sort of girl.’
‘How do you know?’
He spoke angrily this time.