After a while, she said, ‘Ohhh … what kind of a manners you call that, to do me on my own dining table? Come properly to bed, like a gentleman with proper manners.’
I giggled weakly. ‘What a day I’ve had! I’m too feeble to manage it again. It’s too late.’
‘You no know Katie … You too rough – now we try little-by-little. I give you good value for two watches.’
‘They both need repair.’
As she dragged me to the bedroom, I went weakly laughing and protesting.
‘No, I should report to Boyer … What a mess … Boyer and Raddle – so sad it makes you laugh … One last sweet time, Katie, if I can – my last bash in the Far East …’
Of course I never reported back to Captain Boyer. When I woke later with a guilty start, grey dawn was filtering into Katie’s room. That beautiful head was on the pillow beside me. That face I would never see again was like a Buddha’s, serenely turned away from me in sleep. As I kissed its cheek, my spirits sank. I remembered what the day was …
Charlie Meadows and Johnny Mercer were also in the Jeep. They had volunteered to see me off at Polonia airfield. My kit and luggage were piled up at my back. Although the day was still new, the equatorial sun was up, the placid countryside already glowed with heat. To our right, in the distance, slumbered the blue flanks of the mountains of the interior. Sumatra had never looked more beautiful, more peaceful, more pristine.
As we rounded a bend and sighted a Dakota through palm trees, our driver spotted a black car ahead. He slowed. Charlie, Johnny, and I drew our revolvers and crouched lower, fearing an ambush. The car was stationary, drawn in to the side of the road. A fat figure climbed out into the middle of the path and waved to me.
‘It’s okay,’ I said with relief, putting my weapon back in its holster. ‘It’s Fat. What’s he doing here?’
It was soon evident what Fat was doing.
As we moved slowly level with the black car, one of Medan’s venerable pre-war German taxis, Fat opened the rear door. Out stepped Margey, dressed in her best white dress and wearing a hat.
‘Step on it!’ Johnny yelled, banging the Indian driver on the back.
‘Stop, you bastards!’ I shouted. ‘Stop, it’s Margey!’
Her face registered surprise that we were so close. She hesitated. Fat pushed her forward.
The Jeep accelerated. For a moment, Margey and I were no more than a yard apart. She reached out her arms to me. As I responded, our gaze met. Margey!
She called my name. I rose. I was going to jump out, but Charlie grabbed me, forcing me back.
‘Stubbs, you’re thick as they come!’
We were past her. I was looking back. At once, she and Fat were a long way behind us, standing forlorn in the road by the black car. Their hands were at their sides.
Johnny and Charlie were cheering.
‘Saved you from a fate worse than death, you sod,’ Johnny said. He gave his high inane laugh.
The Jeep rounded a bend, and the sight of her was cut off. I kept looking behind.
We roared up to the barrier of the airfield. A couple of members of the RAF Regiment came smartly out of the guard-house to meet us, bayonets fixed. The barriers went up.
Sumatra fell away beneath the plane, away in space and time. Swampy coast was visible almost immediately. Islands flecked the sea, which reflected the morning sun like a shield. The air was filled with brilliance. Somewhere ahead, concealed in light, lay Singapore and all my further destinations.
Automatically, I glanced down at my watches. My wrist was empty.
About the Author
Brian Aldiss, OBE, is a fiction and science fiction writer, poet, playwright, critic, memoirist and artist. He was born in Norfolk in 1925. After leaving the army, Aldiss worked as a bookseller, which provided the setting for his first book, The Brightfount Diaries (1955). His first published science fiction work was the story ‘Criminal Record’, which appeared in Science Fantasy in 1954. Since then he has written nearly 100 books and over 300 short stories, many of which are being reissued as part of The Brian Aldiss Collection.
Several of Aldiss’ books have been adapted for the cinema; his story ‘Supertoys Last All Summer Long’ was adapted and released as the film AI in 2001. Besides his own writing, Brian has edited numerous anthologies of science fiction and fantasy stories, as well as the magazine SF Horizons.
Aldiss is a vice-president of the international H. G. Wells Society and in 2000 was given the Damon Knight Memorial Grand Master Award by the Science Fiction Writers of America. Aldiss was awarded the OBE for services to literature in 2005. He now lives in Oxford, the city in which his bookselling career began in 1947.
Copyright
The Friday Project
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The Hand-Reared Boy first published by Weidenfeld & Nicolson Ltd in 1970
A Soldier Erect first published by Weidenfeld & Nicolson Ltd in 1971
A Rude Awakening first published by Weidenfeld & Nicolson Ltd in 1978
This omnibus edition published by The Friday Project in 2012
Brian Aldiss asserts the moral right to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work.
The Horation Stubbs Trilogy. Text copyright © Brian Aldiss 1970. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins ebooks.
EPub Edition © JULY 2012 ISBN: 9780007490493
Version 1
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The Horatio Stubbs Trilogy Page 62