still flushed from his conversation in the Mess and he was spoiling for a battle, but the Colonel still managed to keep his patience. He held his stick in both hands and glanced down at it.
‘Hullo, Jock,’ he said with a stiff informality.
Jock rolled his eyes. ‘Do I intrude?’
The Colonel said, ‘Don’t go, Jimmy,’ and Cairns closed the door behind him. He would have much preferred to leave, and although he was not a man to look at the ceiling or at the floor, he could not make up his mind whether he would be right to meet Barrow’s eye, or Jock’s. He glanced from one to the other, and fidgeted. Barrow laid his stick on his desk and walked briskly round to his chair.
‘What can we do for you?’
Jock turned, almost pirouetted:
‘I was wondering if you wanted me this afternoon.’
‘Oh, thank you very much.’ The Colonel was both serious and polite. ‘I don’t think there are any more queries just at present. I’m afraid it must all be a terrible bore for you, just now.’
‘Bore?’ Jock was at his most infuriating. ‘Bore? A-huh. What have you been up to, the day?’
The Colonel unlocked the drawer of his desk and brought out his leather blotter and some papers. It was the sort of blotter a boy is given by a grandparent who shops at Fortnum’s. He had kept it for many years. He turned over some papers, pretending to concentrate on them, and took his reading glasses from his tunic pocket. He buttoned the pocket carefully before laying the case down just beyond the blotter, on the desk. He did not feel like telling Jock the exact purpose of his inspection.
‘Jimmy and I have been running through some of that fire drill. I noticed on the map that there aren’t any extinguishers in the body of the Naafi.’
Jock replied indignantly. ‘There are three or four there. I mind them fine.’
‘Really? They’re not on the chart.’
He looked at Jimmy, who nodded in agreement and who was about to say something when Jock interrupted.
‘I was never good at the paper work, Colonel. But you’ll find them there right enough. Is that not right, Jimmy?’
Jimmy nodded. He was again about to speak when the Colonel cut in. ‘Oh, quite right. We’ve just been over and checked.’ He smiled. ‘I don’t enjoy the paper work either.’
‘I would have thought that Whitehall gave a man a taste for it.’
‘Curzon Street, as a matter of fact. Well, Jock, thanks for calling in. I mustn’t keep you.’ The Colonel would not have put it as clumsily as that had he not intended the hint to be translated as an order. But Jock paused, his weight thrown on one foot. His words did not come as he had intended them to. They came in an almost apologetic rush.
‘This … eh … This dancing caper. You don’t expect me to turn up, do you?’
Jimmy felt suddenly cold. He glanced at the Colonel who had removed his glasses.
‘All officers.’
Jock hesitated, smiled sourly.
‘It’s not on, boy.’
The Colonel replaced his glasses and fingered his papers again. But he did not use his artillery. He spoke lightly like a nanny.
‘I’m not much looking forward to 7.15 myself. But I think we’d best all turn up.’
Jock’s smile had changed to something nearer a sneer. He spoke more rudely than he had dared before. ‘Is that an order, when you say you think we’d best all turn up?’
‘If you like to put it that way.’
Jimmy moved the handle of the door, but Jock still hesitated. He walked back a step or two towards the desk and he spoke in quite a different tone of voice. He was pleading.
‘Look here, boy, if …’
‘Colonel. I prefer to be addressed as Colonel.’ His voice was raised and now Jock, too, grew angry. ‘Very well then, Colonel. If I and some …’
‘If I may suggest; some other time.’ The Colonel did not look up, and Jock was badly stung. He clenched his fists. His colour rose. Then he straightened up.
‘O.K., Colonel,’ he said through his teeth. ‘O.K.’
He made a great business of the final salute, smashing his heels together, and Barrow nodded. As he had no hat on, he was not called to return the salute. Jock did not look at Cairns as he marched out. He did not look at anybody: he did not even remember to return Mr Riddick’s salute as he passed through the lobby. He looked neither to left or right. He marched.
Much to the R.S.M.’s disappointment, Mr McLean was faultlessly dressed; and he did not look perturbed. Then he never did. Mr Riddick gave a phlegmy cough, about turned, and knocked on the Colonel’s door.
‘March in, Mr McLean.’ He tried to make it sound as near to an order as possible. ‘March in.’
The Pipe-Major walked into the room and he came to a halt without making much noise about it. He did not bang his feet on the ground.
Mr Riddick was listening at the door, but his face soon wore a disappointed expression. The Colonel was explaining to the Pipe-Major just how he wanted the officers to dance and he was speaking in a friendly way.
‘Oh yes, sir.’ Mr McLean sounded like a friendly game-keeper. ‘Oh yes; we’ll manage that, sir.’
‘Have you a piper competent to do the job?’
‘All the pipers are good, sir. They’re a good band. But I think I had better go along myself. It will make it easier, I’m thinking.’ There was just a wash of the Atlantic in his voice.
‘You needn’t if there’s somebody else.’
‘Well, if I can’t some morning, then we’ll send along Corporal Fraser. He’s tactful, you know.’
‘Very good, Pipe-Major.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ The Pipe-Major seemed to want to go on talking. ‘It is a while since we have had a subalterns’ parade of this sort, though Colonel Sinclair once suggested it would be a good idea.’
‘It isn’t only the subalterns, you understand.’
‘Oh? But surely the senior officers …’
The Colonel looked annoyed. He touched his moustache.
‘The order affects all officers.’
‘All the officers. I see, sir.’ The Pipe-Major sighed. It was time he left. But as he turned the Colonel said:
‘I’m not a great one for spit and polish, Pipe-Major, but the windows of your Band Block could do with a wash.’ He said this quite pleasantly, and Mr McLean looked concerned.
‘Oh, aye, sir. We’ll get that seen to straight away, sir; straight away.’ Then he smiled uncertainly, and the Colonel smiled back.
‘Straight away.’
‘Right this minute, sir. Thank you very much, sir.’
‘That will be all.’
The Pipe-Major nearly knocked over Mr Riddick when he opened the door. The eavesdropper moved his feet sharply, and coughed. ‘Cup-a-tea for you, Mr McLean?’
‘Thank you, Mr Riddick. That would be fine,’ the Pipe-Major replied in his comfortable way and they went into the little office. But as they closed the door behind them, orderlies in the next room raised their eyebrows and shrugged. It was never a good idea for these two to get together. Evenin the Mess the sergeants did not trust them in the same game of Housey-housey. It always ended in the same way.
When they took off their bonnets it could be seen that