The Valley of Bones - Anthony Powell [79]
‘You’ve only met Maureen for the first time, Nick. You don’t realize at all what she’s like. You think all that talk of hers means she’s a bad girl. She isn’t. I’ve often been alone with her in that bar. You’d be surprised. She’s like a child.’
‘Some children know a thing or two.’
Gwatkin did not even bother to consider that point of view.
‘I don’t know why I think her quite so wonderful,’ he admitted, ‘but I just do. It worries me that I think about her all the time. I’ve found myself forgetting things, matters of duty, I mean.’
‘Do you go down there every night?’
‘Whenever I can. I haven’t been able to get away lately owing to one thing and another. All this security check, for instance.’
‘Does she know this?’
‘Know what?’
‘Does Maureen know you’re mad about her?’
‘I don’t think so,’ he said.
He spoke the words very humbly, quite unlike his usual tone. Then he assumed a rough, official voice again.
‘I thought it would be better if I told you about it all, Nick,’ he said. ‘I hoped the thing wouldn’t go on inside me all the time so much, if I let it out to someone. Unless it stops a bit, I’m frightened I’ll make a fool of myself in some way to do with commanding the Company. A girl like Maureen makes everything go out of your head.’
‘Of course.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘Yes.’
Gwatkin still did not seem entirely satisfied.
‘You really think I ought to take her out?’
‘That’s what a lot of people would do – probably a lot of people are doing already.’
‘Oh, no, I’m sure they’re not, if you mean from the School of Chemical Warfare. I’ve never seen any of them there. It was quite a chance I went in myself. I was looking for a short cut. Maureen was standing by the door, and I asked her the way. Her parents own the pub. She’s not just a barmaid.’
‘Anyway, there’s no harm in trying, barmaid or not.’
During the rest of the walk back to Castlemallock, Gwatkin did not refer again to the subject of Maureen. He talked of routine matters until we parted to our rooms.
‘The Mess will be packed out again tomorrow night,’ he said. ‘Another Anti-Gas course starts next week. I suppose all that business will begin again of wanting to take my men away from me for their bloody demonstrations. Well, there it is.’
‘Good night, Rowland.’
‘Good night, Nick.’
I made for the stables, where I shared a groom’s room with Kedward, rather like the sleeping quarters of Albert and Bracey at Stonehurst. As Duty Officer that night, Kedward would not be there and I should have the bedroom to myself, always rather a treat. I was aware now that it had been a mistake to drink so much stout. Tomorrow was Sunday, so there would be comparatively little to do. I thought how awful Bithel must feel on parade the mornings after his occasional bouts of drinking. Reflecting on people often portends their own appearance. So it was in the case of Bithel. He was among the students to arrive at the School the following week. We should, indeed, all have been prepared for Bithel to be sent on an Anti-Gas course. It was a way of getting rid of him, pending final banishment from the Battalion, which, as Gwatkin said, was bound to come sooner or later. I was sitting at one of the trestle tables of the Mess, addressing an envelope, when Bithel peered through the door. He was fingering his ragged moustache and smiling nervously. When he saw me, he made towards the table at once.
‘Nice to meet again,’ he said, speaking as usual as if he expected a rebuff. ‘Haven’t seen you since the Battalion moved.’
‘How have you been?’
‘Getting rockets, as usual,’ he said.
‘Maelgwyn-Jones?’
‘That fellow’s got a positive down on me,’ Bithel said, ‘but I don’t think it will be for long now.’
‘Why not?’
‘I’m probably leaving the Battalion.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘There’s talk of my going up to Division.’
‘On the staff?’
‘Not exactly – a command.’
‘At Div HQ?’
‘Only a subsidiary command, of course. I shall be sorry to leave the Regiment in some ways, if it comes off, but not altogether sorry to see the back