you shock me, Aunt Augusta,” I said, but the statement had already almost ceased to be true. “I have never had anything stolen from my suitcase and I don’t even lock it.”
“That is probably your safeguard. No one is going to bother about an unlocked suitcase. Wordsworth knew a loader who had keys to every kind of suitcase. There are not many varieties, though he was baffled once by a Russian one.”
The loud-speaker announced our flight and we were told to proceed at once to Gate 14 for immediate embarkation.
“For someone who doesn’t like airports,” I said, “you seem to know a great deal about Heathrow.”
“I’ve always been interested in human nature,” Aunt Augusta said. “Especially the more imaginative sides of it.”
She ordered another two gins and tonics immediately we arrived on the plane. “There goes ten shillings towards the first-class fare,” she said. “A friend of mine calculated once that on a long flight to Tahiti – it took in those days more than sixty-four hours – he recuperated nearly twenty pounds, but of course he was a hard drinker.”
Again I had the impression that I was turning the pages in an American magazine in search of a contribution which I had temporarily lost. “I still don’t understand,” I said, “about the luggage-trailer and the suitcase. Why were you so anxious that the trailer should disappear?”
“I have an impression,” my aunt said, “that you are really a little shocked by trivial illegalities. When you reach my age you will be more tolerant. Years ago Paris was regarded as the vice centre of the world, as Buenos Aires was before that, but Madame de Gaulle[85] altered things there. Rome, Milan, Venice and Naples survived a decade longer, but then the only cities left were Macao and Havana. Macao has been cleaned up by the Chinese Chamber of Commerce and Havana by Fidel Castro. For the moment Heathrow is the Havana of the West. It won’t last very long, of course, but one must admit that at the present time London Airport has a glamour which certainly puts Britain first. Have you got a little vodka for the caviar?” she asked the hostess who brought our trays. “I prefer it to champagne.”
“But, Aunt Augusta, you have still not told me about the trailer.”
“It’s very simple,” my aunt said. “If the luggage is to be loaded direct on to the aircraft, the trailer is detached outside the Queen Elizabeth building – there are always traffic hold-ups at this point and nothing is noticed by the passengers. If when the bus arrives at the BEA or Air France entrance you find the trailer is still attached, this means that the luggage is going to be sent to the customs. Personally I have a rooted objection to unknown hands, which have fiddled about in all kinds of strange luggage, some not overclean, fiddling about in mine.”
“What do you do then?”
“I reclaim my bags, saying that after all I don’t require them on the voyage and wish to leave them in the cloakroom. Or I cancel my flight and try again another day.” She finished her smoked salmon and went on to the caviar. “There is no such convenient system as that at Dover, or I would prefer to go by boat.”
“Aunt Augusta,” I said, “what are you carrying in your suit-cases?”
“Only one is a little dangerous,” she said, “the red. I always use the red for that purpose. Red for danger,” she added with a smile.
“But what have you got in the red one?”
“A trifle,” Aunt Augusta said, “something to help us in our travels. I can’t really endure any longer these absurd travel allowances. Allowances! For grown people! When I was a child I received a shilling a week pocket money. If you consider the value of the pound today, that is rather more than what we are allowed to travel with annually. You haven’t eaten your portion of foie gras[86].”
“It doesn’t agree with me,” I said.
“Then I will take it. Steward, another glass of champagne and another vodka.”
“We are just descending, ma’am.”
“The more reason for you to hurry, young man.” She fastened her seat-belt. “I’m glad that Wordsworth left Heathrow before I came to know him. He was in danger of being corrupted. Oh, I don’t mean the thieving. A little honest thieving hurts no one, especially when it is a question of gold. Gold needs free circulation. The Spanish Empire would have decayed far more quickly if Sir Francis Drake[87] had not kept a proportion of the Spanish gold in circulation. But here are other things. I have mentioned Havana, and you mustn’t think me straitlaced. I am all for a little professional sex. You have probably read about the activities of Superman. And I am sure that the sight of him cured many a frigidity. Thank you, steward.” She drained her vodka. “We have not done badly. I would say we have almost covered the difference between first-class and tourist, if you take into account a little overweight with my red suitcase. There was a brothel in Havana where the Emperor’s Crown was admirably performed by three nice girls. These establishments save many a marriage from boredom. And then there was the Shanghai Theatre in the Chinese quarter of Havana with three blue films which were shown in the intervals of a nude review, all for the price of one dollar with a pornographic bookshop in the foyer thrown in. I was there once with a Mr. Fernandez who had a cattle farm in Camagüey. (I met him in Rome after Mr. Visconti had temporarily disappeared and he invited me to Cuba for a month’s holiday.) The place was ruined, though, long before the revolution. I am told that to compete with television they put in a large screen. The films, of course, had all been shot on sixteen millimetre, and when they were enlarged practically to Cinerama size, it really needed an act of faith to distinguish any feature of the human body.”
The plane banked steeply over Le Bourget.
“It was all very harmless,” my aunt said, “and gave employment to a great many people. But the things which go on around Heathrow…”
The steward brought another vodka and my aunt tossed it down. She had a strong head – I had noticed that already – but her mind under the influence of alcohol ranged to and fro.
“We were talking of Heathrow,” I reminded her, for my curiosity had been aroused. In my aunt’s company, I found myself oddly ignorant about my own country.
“There are a number of big firms around Heathrow,” my aunt said. “Electronics, engineering, film manufacturers. Glaxo, as one would expect, is quite untouched by the Heathrow influence. After office hours some of the technicians give private parties; air crews are always welcome, so long as stewardesses are included in the party. Even loaders. Wordsworth was always invited, but only on condition he brought a girl and was willing to exchange her at the party for another. Pornographic films are shown first as an encouragement. Wordsworth was genuinely attached to his girl, but he had to surrender her in exchange for a technician’s wife who was a homely woman of fifty called Ada. It seems to me that the old professional brothel system was far healthier than these exaggerated amateur distractions. But then an amateur always goes too far. An amateur is never in proper control of his art. There was a discipline in the old-time brothels. The madame in many ways played a role similar to that of the headmistress of Roedean[88]. A brothel after all is a kind of school, and not least a school of manners. I have known several madames of real distinction who would have been just as at home in Roedean and have lent distinction to any school.”
“How on earth did you get to know them?” I asked, but the plane was bumping on to the Le Bourget field, and my aunt began to fuss about her luggage. “I think it better,” she said, “if we pass through customs and immigration separately. My red case is rather a heavy one and I would be glad if you would take that with you. Employ a porter. It is always easier to obtain a taxi with a porter’s help. And show in your manner that the tip will be a good one before you arrive at the customs. There is often an understanding between a porter and a douanier[89]. I will meet you outside. Here is the ticket for the red case.”
Chapter