The Red Door

by Iain Crichton Smith

  He might drop in for a pint soon, but you couldn’t get a good pint for less than two and sixpence. And that would be the price of two loaves. Or a pound of rhubarb, more than a pound of rhubarb, depending where you bought it.

  As he came out on to the street he saw that there was a large shining blue car there, like a piece of sky that had dropped to earth. He thought at first it might be Robin come home as a surprise till he saw the naval officer emerge from it. And ‘emerge’ was the right word, like a god in his blue and yellow, a commodore at least, a golden man.

  Probably off that ship, one of the ships anyway, must be off the aircraft carrier at least.

  ‘Could I help you, sir?’ he said, almost standing at attention.

  ‘I’m looking for the Commodore Hotel. Could you direct me?’

  ‘Certainly, sir. You go back down on to the main street and then you turn left. It’s along the front. You can’t miss it. It’s got a lot of glass windows. I used to be in the Navy myself,’ he said, almost in an undertone.

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said my son was in the Navy during the war. He was a first lieutenant, and he would have been a lieutenant commander, only the war stopped too soon.’

  ‘Oh? Thank you very much indeed,’ said the commodore who seemed confused for such an important man. He hastily got back into the car, which accelerated from a standing start and drove away so beautifully its motion almost brought tears to Harry’s eyes. He gazed after it, was part of it, then, sighing, made his way to the shore, which was now crowded with people of all shapes and sizes, lying, sprawling, sitting, letting the sun unravel them again.

  He headed straight for the telescope but saw that it was being used by a small boy hoisted in the arms of his mother.

  He waited, looking out towards the sea which sparkled and sparkled. The haze had cleared now and he could see the ships very clearly.

  ‘I can’t see anything,’ the small boy screamed.

  ‘Of course you can’t, dear. You’ve used up your three minutes,’ said the mother. ‘Come on and let the gentleman look.’ The little boy regarded Harry with naked hatred, but allowed himself to be led away.

  Harry put a sixpence in the slot and manoeuvred the telescope so that he could focus on the ships, swinging it past the lighthouse and the tower on the opposite side of the firth. Eventually he could see men in white walking about the decks. He could even make out the ships’ names. The aircraft carrier was the Redoubtable; there were also a few destroyers and some frigates. The Royal Yacht would be coming that night to call on them, and the bay would be all lit up. No use trying to climb the sides of these ships, they were so sheer. And walking about the decks were the men in white, whom he was so secretly watching, unaware of his scrutiny. As he gazed, he saw a launch foaming through the water, the prow rising high, one rating standing at the stern and another at the bow.

  He swivelled the telescope round to the far end of the line where there was a frigate. Just behind her he could see an oil tanker with strange funnels. God, how powerful they looked! The British Navy! And he felt a sob in his throat to think of it. Though there weren’t really all these many ships after all, not all that many when you considered them. Still, they should be able to put paid to Indonesia or France or any of the small countries who were always pushing us around. There was a click and the images disappeared. He let the telescope drop and walked off. Standing on the green by herself was a tall thin woman in black with a lorgnette, staring out at the ships. A leash hung over her left arm and a little dog was looking up at her.

  He crossed the green and sat down in a shelter.

  The only other person there was a woman in rather old brown furs, who was wearing gloves though the sun was blazing down. She leaned forward delicately as he sat down and said,

  ‘Have you a match, please?’ She took out a cigarette, holding it carefully between finger and thumb. He thought it was a Woodbine; she didn’t offer him one. He held out the match for her and she inhaled deeply.

  ‘Exciting, isn’t it?’ she said.

  ‘The ships?’

  ‘Yes, of course. To see our own Navy there. It gives one a lift. I suppose you were in the Navy yourself?’

  He stared at her and saw the water turn a pale gold. Guns were firing, and a U-boat was surfaced beside the ship. The sun struck rays across the water towards them. Men were getting off the ship quite calmly. In a short while the U-boat would fire its last torpedo. Meanwhile, it would let them get into the boats.

  Later there was the raft. Once he woke up turning a page of music as he sat on the piano stool. Strange that, out in the middle of the Pacific and the water swaying round a blue piano.

  ‘Yes, I was in the Navy, madam.’ He said ‘madam’ because she looked as if she had been a lady, though she hadn’t offered him a cigarette.

  ‘I suppose they come here every Saturday,’ she said, pointing to the women lying on the grass, the boys in their bathing suits, and the little dogs running about.

  ‘Ay, they do, every Saturday. And do you come here often yourself?’

  ‘For the air,’ she said, ‘for the air. I come from Edinburgh actually.’

  She smoked fastidiously, looking at him over the ruff at her neck.

  ‘But it’s changing now,’ she added. ‘Skyscrapers. And the music isn’t the same as it was. Not the same quality. We used to go to the Usher Hall when we were girls. Have you ever been to the Usher Hall?’

  ‘No, can’t say I’ve been to the Usher Hall.’

  ‘I must say that the tickets are getting very expensive,’ she said. ‘Why, I was over in America with my daughter some years ago, and tickets are no more expensive than here. And that was in New York.’

  If you were in New York, he thought, what are you doing here in this shelter wearing a fur coat in the middle of July? He noticed beside her an umbrella with a gold knob; it looked like a king’s sceptre.

  ‘My own daughter’s in Canada,’ he said. ‘She was good at the piano. She got lessons, you know. You should have heard her playing “The Anniversary Waltz”.’

  ‘You mean they didn’t teach her Bach? But, of course, Stravinsky is all the rage now, though I don’t understand him. Don’t you think these Socialist people are ruining the country?’ she said, flicking her ash on to the stone below. ‘Why, it’s disgraceful the prices of things. Ten cigarettes more than two shillings. Scandalous. And that Wilson’s such an uncultured man.’

  ‘Couldn’t agree with you more,’ said Harry, narrowing his eyes against the sun.

  ‘And what do you do yourself, if I may ask?’ she pursued.

  ‘Oh, I’m retired now, madam. I used to be in business.’

  ‘Oh, how interesting. Doing what, may I ask?’

  ‘Selling jewellery. Upper class stuff, of course. I had a shop here till some years ago. Presley’s.’

  ‘I know Presley’s. Did you run Presley’s? Fancy that. The jewellery business must have been very interesting.’

  ‘Yes, madam. Watches we did. And rings. One day a couple came in for a ring. A sailor he was, and his girlfriend. I remember they were very shy, especially the girl. Slip of a thing, she looked lovely. They asked for one of the rings in the window. It cost a hundred pounds but we didn’t have a price tag on it. So I said thirty pounds, seeing they were so young and the girl was so pretty. Mind you, I wouldn’t have done that for everybody. Only there was something about them, and they looked so young. The sailor didn’t have much money, I could tell.’

  ‘Go on,’ she breathed, pointing her cigarette at him.

  ‘I’d be as likely to overcharge if I saw someone I didn’t like,’ said Harry, adding wistfully. ‘It was the emeralds I liked best of all. There’s something about them.’

  ‘Remind you of the sea, perhaps.’

  ‘Perhaps. But my son didn’t follow me into the jewellery business. That’s why I gave up. He’s in Africa, a surveyor. He’s got a big business over there. In Bulawayo. He comes home quite a lot
. Do you know Bulawayo?’

  ‘No, I can’t say that I know Bulawayo. Though I’ve a Boxer which I got from an African friend. I mean he’s really European of course. The way they’re treating Ian Smith is scandalous, don’t you think? These blacks should be shut up somewhere. They’re not fit for human consumption.’

  ‘My son has three servants in Africa,’ said Harry. ‘They cost five shillings a week. All they want is bicycles, that’s all they want. Do you know what he said to me once? He said one day he decided to raise the salaries of the Africans, and the Africans walked out. The whole lot of them. Do you know why?’

  ‘I can’t imagine.’

  ‘Well, I’ll tell you. They said that if they were worth that money they should have got it in the first place. What do you think of that?’ His lips pursed angrily. ‘They’re not like us at all. They’re not reasonable.’

  ‘Imagine that! Of course, I quite agree with you. Where are you going now? Home for your dinner?’

  ‘Pleased to have met you,’ he said, without answering her question. What a glorious day it was! Oh, to be young again and sailing the Seven Seas, away from women with dogs and lorgnettes, and fat little boys running about with big balloons! For a moment he was stabbed by an incredible pain.

  ‘We will meet again no doubt,’ she said, avidly watching a little bald man who was making his way delicately across the sleeping bodies with which the strip was littered.

  Harry headed for the pub.

  ‘Hi, Harry,’ said the barman who was a tall, skeletal and tough man, able by use of ju-jitsu to throw out on to the road the biggest bruisers of the town. He had a very small head set on a spindly body, and he was wearing a black jacket and a violet, if slightly stained, bow tie.

  ‘How’s things, Harry?’

  ‘Oh, not so bad,’ said Harry, grinning broadly.

  ‘Got a car yet, Harry?’

  ‘Not yet. Looking around, you know.’

  ‘You do that, Harry, take your time. Reason I asked was you mentioned it. You should get a Cortina.’

  Harry sat down in the corner seat which was upholstered in red leather. The place was a bit crowded with boys playing darts and gulping pies in between throws. They were in their shirt sleeves and had the clicking scoreboard working. Students some of them, perhaps, like Robin had been. It was true he once had a shop, but it was a newsagent’s not a jeweller’s. Sarah was happy in those days because she was kept busy, and there were always people to talk to. Also, people would look up to you if you had a shop. Only it had lasted for no more than three years and then it had gone the way of so many other shops when the big firms and the supermarkets came in. Anyway, he had never been a bookseller and he didn’t know much about books. Robin used to work there during the vacation though he was a bit ashamed of it. He had tried to get better books in and that had been the start of the trouble. In Harry’s experience most people wanted to buy westerns and romances (especially about nurses and doctors). But, no, Robin had brought in the heavy books, and they lay on his hands. These students reminded him of Robin. In those days they had a car as well. The barman was new, otherwise he would have known about that. But he had so many insults to put up with now: everyone thought they could say what they liked to him.

  As he drank some beer a young naval rating came and sat down beside him, carefully placing his white cap on the table. He took out a copy of the Evening Times and turned to the sports page. Harry thought he looked very young with his close-cropped blond hair.

  ‘Fine day,’ said Harry, after a decent while.

  ‘It is that,’ said the rating putting down his paper. He seemed lonely.

  ‘Nice little town you have here,’ he said politely.

  ‘Yes. Not been here before?’

  ‘No, can’t say I have. Come from England myself.’

  ‘Do you know Portsmouth?’ said Harry eagerly.

  ‘Do I know Portsmouth? Yes, I’ve been in Portsmouth a lot of times.’

  ‘Good Naafi there,’ said Harry. ‘Big place. Was there during the war, you know.’

  ‘Oh, you were in the war, sir?’ Very polite, these ratings, Harry thought.

  ‘I was. In a cruiser. You wouldn’t know it, I suppose. It was called the Indomitable. We were after the . . . ’ He was going to say Bismarck but stopped himself in time. ‘We were in the Atlantic most of the time.’

  ‘Good for you,’ said the rating, looking out of the window as he licked the foam from his lips.

  ‘I suppose things have changed a lot since then,’ said Harry, taking another swig. ‘I mean, in the ships.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ said the rating. ‘Not having been in the old ones, I wouldn’t know.’

  ‘You’ve got rockets now,’ said Harry.

  ‘Yes, we have.’

  ‘Never thought of that in the old days. Just guns we had. I was a gunner myself. Used to get hot on your hands, they did.’

  ‘I suppose they would.’ This rating sounded a bit educated, Harry thought. Not like us.

  ‘A sight for sore eyes they are,’ said Harry, pointing vaguely out to sea.

  ‘You mean the Navy? Oh, it’s all right I suppose. Not really much in comparison with the Americans though we wouldn’t say that to them. They’ve got a lot of aircraft carriers. We’ve only got two.’

  ‘I was torpedoed once,’ said Harry.

  ‘Is that right? Well, I expect you’d have been picked up pretty rapid now. All sorts of new equipment. You live here?’

  ‘Yes. Not all my days though,’ said Harry quickly. ‘I’ve been around. I was in the First World War and then I was in the second one too. That’s where I got my leg from.’

  ‘What? Oh, I see. Mean you were wounded?’

  ‘When we ran into the spot of trouble I was. And my right arm isn’t too good either.’

  The rating finished his beer and was about to get up.

  ‘I’ll get you one,’ said Harry expansively, coming to a decision. ‘Must look after our Navy boys, you know.’ He signalled to the barman to come over.

  ‘Another pint for my friend here,’ he said.

  As the barman was bending down to take their glasses he said,

  ‘What rank is he this time, Harry? Admiral?’

  ‘What did he say?’ said the rating after the barman had gone.

  ‘Oh, nothing. He was only joking. They all know me.’

  The barman returned with their beers, and Harry watched the rating drink. Very nice boy he looked, with direct, candid blue eyes.

  ‘When are you leaving?’ he asked.

  ‘Not allowed to say that,’ said the rating. ‘But we shouldn’t be here long. There’s a visit tonight. The Prince himself, you know. The good old prince. All the trimmings. We’re going back about five o’clock. Everyone’s got to be back there by five o’clock. No shore leave tomorrow. Worse luck.’

  He reminds me of Robin, thought Harry. The same clean-cut student look. He looked down at his drink.

  ‘You liked the Navy, sir?’

  ‘Yes, I did.’

  ‘And what are you doing now, sir?’

  ‘I’m retired. My son’s in Africa, you know. He’s an administrator. He’s got a top job there. He was in university, you know.’

  The rating looked out of the window and drank quickly.

  ‘There are some people going out to the ships, you know. We’re running boats out tonight. You could come if you wanted to.’

  ‘I could do that,’ said Harry. The rating looked over Harry’s head, his eyes focusing on the street outside as if he had an appointment.

  ‘Tell you what,’ he said, looking at a watch with a black leather strap on it, ‘I’ve got to go now, but I’ll be back here at five and you could come out with us then. Why don’t you do that? Why don’t you? Otherwise it’ll cost you five bob.’ He drank the rest of his beer, looking at Harry with blue, candid eyes.

  ‘Can I get you something else before you go?’ said Harry. ‘Another pint.’

  ‘Well, I
really haven’t got time. There’s someone out there. But I’ll be here at five o’clock.’

  ‘You’ll have time for a whisky,’ Harry insisted. Without waiting for an answer, he went over to the bar. ‘A whisky for my friend,’ he told the barman. ‘He’s in a hurry. He’s got an appointment. He’s got to get ready for Prince Philip.’

  ‘Right, Harry.’ The barman poured out the whisky quickly, and Harry took it over to the table. The rating drank it quickly. ‘This is good of you,’ he said.

  ‘Think nothing of it,’ said Harry, nursing his beer. ‘I shall expect you then at five.’

  ‘Yes, that will be all right. I’ve got some shopping to do. What’s your name by the way?’

  ‘Harry Millar. Everyone in town knows me. Used to have a big business here. I’ve done a lot of trade with them in the past.’

  ‘Yes. No point in you paying five shillings really.’ He rushed out as if he had seen someone whom he wanted to meet.

  The barman came over.

  ‘What are you up to now, Harry?’

  ‘It was the commodore’s chauffeur,’ said Harry. ‘I’m going out with him in the ship’s boat at five o’clock. He said I’d have a grandstand view when they switch on the lights.’

  ‘Good for you, Harry. I heard people were being taken out. Nice-looking fellow.’

  ‘Yes, we Navy boys are like that,’ said Harry. He sipped his beer, thinking that he had about eight shillings left.

  When he left the pub at three o’clock, he decided he’d go up to the house and leave a note for Sarah, telling her that he might be late. It was a strange experience. He hadn’t been out past nine o’clock at night for ages, and he knew that he might be a bit later than that coming back. He felt rather frightened informing her of this in cold print, but a lot depended on what mood she was in. It reminded him of the old days when he used to go out for a Saturday night drink with the boys.