The Balkan Trilogy

by Olivia Manning

  ‘Who is in charge then?’

  ‘It’s difficult to say. Mr Gracey doesn’t do any work but he likes to feel he’s in control. You understand!’

  Guy nodded. He did understand. ‘But,’ he said, ‘he must have a deputy. He could never run this place on his own.’

  ‘Well, no,’ Toby struck another match and there was a long delay while the pipe lighting went on. At last, amazingly, a thread of smoke hovered out of the bowl and, shaking out the match, he leant forward confidingly: ‘Fact is, when we arrived here, Mr Gracey was in a bit of a fix. His two assistants had beetled off leaving him … well …’ Toby gave Harriet a nervous glance before he completed his sentence: ‘… in the lurch.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It was one of those things. I don’t know the details, but you know what it’s like: a misunderstanding, a few heated words. … Such things happen! Anyway, they took themselves off.’

  ‘How did they manage it? The Organization is a reserved occupation.’

  ‘They were transferred. One of them had influence – his father was an M.P. or something. Bit of dirty work, if you ask me. They wanted to go home but they were sent to the Far East. Mr Gracey applied for two new assistants; the London office had no one to send. They’d had their quota. He was told he’d have to wait and keep things going with locally employed teachers. He had two or three Greeks and a Maltese chap, but no one who could give a lecture. That’s how it was when we turned up.

  ‘You saved the day in fact?’ said Harriet.

  ‘In a manner of speaking, we did just that.’

  Guy asked: ‘Who gives the lectures now?’

  ‘Dubedat gives some. As a matter of fact …’ Toby guffed and after a pause said with triumphant coyness: ‘I give the odd lecture myself.’

  ‘On what?’

  ‘Eng. Lit. of course.’

  Guy seemed at a loss for comment and Harriet said: ‘It looks as though Gracey will be glad to have Guy.’

  Toby’s face tautened in a wary way: ‘Don’t know about that. Can’t say.’ He stared down at the desk and mumbled: ‘Numbers’ve been dropping off … not much work for anyone these days … local teachers had to be sacked … very quiet here …’

  Harriet broke in: ‘It’s pretty obvious from what you say that someone’s needed to pull the place together.’

  ‘That’s for Mr Gracey to decide.’ Toby sat up and gave Harriet a severe look. In an attempt to exclude her from the conversation, he turned in his seat and stared directly at Guy. ‘Mr Gracey had this accident but he won’t admit defeat. You’ve got to admire him. He’s doing his best to run the place from his sick-bed, if you know what I mean. You can’t just say to a man like that: “You aren’t up to it. You need someone to pull the place together.” Now, can you?’ He frowned his emotion and Guy, touched by the appeal, nodded in sympathetic understanding. There was a long condoling pause broken by Harriet.

  She wanted to know: ‘When can Guy see Mr Gracey?’

  Toby straightened up and put his hands on the table as though forced by Harriet’s lack of tact to demonstrate his authority: ‘I could …’ He hesitated and gave a last suck at his pipe before committing himself: ‘I could get you an interview with Dubedat.’

  ‘Are you serious?’ Harriet asked.

  Toby ignored her and spoke directly to Guy: ‘I can’t say exactly when he can see you. It mightn’t be for a day or two. He’s up to his eyes. He’s practically running things here, you know! But I’m sure he will see you.’ Toby nodded assuringly, then got to his feet. ‘Where are you staying?’ He noted down the name of the hotel, then shot out a large, soft hand. ‘We’ll keep in touch.’ He paused, sucked, and added: ‘And I’ll do what I can for you. I promise.’

  Returning to the dusty heat of mid-morning, the Pringles walked as far as Omonia Square before either spoke, then Harriet burst out: ‘An interview with Dubedat! Have we come to that?’

  Guy, giving a brief, shocked laugh, had to admit: ‘It was pretty cool.’

  He looked pale so Harriet did not tell him it was her belief he had created the whole situation by his indiscriminate generosity. Toby was unqualified; Dubedat’s qualifications were mediocre. Neither had much ability. Guy could have managed without them and, in the end, had to manage without them. Had he not employed them, they would have been sent to Egypt and probably conscripted. As it was, they had become resentful of the fact that Guy would not let them do anything more than teach. Toby had wanted to lecture but Guy would not hear of it. Remembering the tone in which Toby had said: ‘I give the odd lecture myself,’ Harriet knew he had never forgiven Guy for standing between him and his ambition. She could see that Guy had his own methods of arousing enmity. He did not give too little, he gave too much. Those who give too much are always expected to give more, and blamed when they reach the point of refusal.

  She said: ‘If I were you, I’d insist on seeing Gracey. And don’t take “No” for an answer.’

  ‘I’ll certainly insist on seeing Gracey. I’ll tell Dubedat …’

  ‘Surely you won’t see Dubedat? If you’re wise, you’ll have nothing to do with him.’

  ‘Why not? He’s a pal.’

  ‘Just as Toby Lush is a pal.’

  ‘Toby is an ass, but Dubedat is different. He’s no fool. He’ll be much easier to deal with.’

  ‘We’ll see.’

  Guy’s faith, even his unjustified faith, had its own dynamism, and she would not weaken it. Their position was weak enough as it was. She contented herself by saying: ‘Toby thinks he has only discouraged us and we’ll take ourselves off. He knows we haven’t much money. Without money, no one can hang around a foreign capital for long.’

  ‘We’ll hang around as long as we can.’ Guy said, and in Stadium Street he found a bureau that gave him drachma for his Rumanian lei. The exchange was made reluctantly and the rate was low, but Guy was delighted to get anything at all. As soon as he had money in his pocket, he wanted to spend it. He said: ‘Let’s go to the café you showed me: Yakimov’s favourite haunt.’

  ‘Zonar’s. It’s not cheap.’

  ‘Never mind.’

  They found seats in the sun and sat amid the affluent, leisured Greeks who were reading an English newspaper with the headline: ‘Seven German Submarines Sunk.’ The headline filled the Pringles with wonder, for in Rumania they had come to believe, like everyone else, that the only ships sunk were British ships.

  As soon as he saw the English couple, a gentle, quivering, old Greek came to Guy and held a copy of the paper before him. When Guy handed over a note, the old man neither bolted with it nor begged for more, but carefully counted the change on to the table and began to move on. When Guy pushed some of the coins back to him, he bowed and gathered them up.

  Guy read his paper while Harriet watched the men moving between the chairs, selling nougat, peanuts and sponges. One of them, catching her eye, offered her an enormous melon-yellow sponge. She tilted up her chin in the Greek fashion and murmured: ‘Oxi.’ The man offered other sponges, cream, golden, fawn and brown; at each Harriet gave a smaller tilt of the chin and her ‘Oxi’ became scarcely audible. The man did not become angry like the terrible beggars of Bucharest, but smiled, amused by her performance, and moved on. Relaxed in her chair, she felt a subsidence of tension as though some burden, carried for too long a time, was gradually losing weight. How different life would be here, in this indolent sunshine where the fate of Rumania was a minor fracas, too far away to mean anything!

  Here one had only to be English to be approved. It was not only that the Greeks and the English shared a common cause, but she felt a sympathy between them. If they could stay here, she and Guy would never have reason to worry again. Wanting him to acknowledge the peace they had found, she said: ‘It’s marvellous!’

  Looking up from the paper, he turned his face to the sun and nodded.

  ‘To feel safe!’ she said. ‘Simply to feel safe! It’s marvellous to be among people who are on your side.�
� Having come from a country that had sold itself in fear, she was conscious of the ease of the Greeks. They had the right to be at ease; their dignity was unassailed.

  When he had read the little two-page paper, he began to watch the passers-by with an eager, inquiring look, wanting to know and be known. While Harriet was content to observe people, Guy longed to communicate with them and she wished someone would appear to whom he could talk. Someone did appear: Toby Lush.

  She said: ‘Good Heavens! Look!’

  Guy looked and his face fell. Toby, getting out of a taxi, seemed anxious and, as he pushed between the people on the pavement, his movements were so discordant, he appeared deranged. Seeing the Pringles, he threw up his arms and shouted: ‘There you are! I thought I’d find you here!’ He fell into a chair and slapped at the sweat which ran down the runnels of his face. ‘Must have a drink. What about you two?’ He swung out his arm at a passing waiter and knocked the man’s tray to the ground.

  The Pringles sat suspended while Toby ordered himself an ouzo; then he said: ‘Now!’ as though about to produce a solution of Guy’s predicament. After a pause, he added firmly: ‘I’ve had a word with himself.’

  ‘With the Director?’ Guy asked.

  ‘No, no. With Dubedat. And he told me to tell you: “We’ll do what we can.”’ Toby stared at Guy, expecting gratitude, but Guy said nothing. Disconcerted, Toby went on: ‘After all, you did what you could for us.’

  ‘What do you think you can do?’

  The question seemed to reassure Toby, who sagged down in his chair and got out his pipe. An air of importance came over him as he said: ‘The old soul thinks we might get you a spot of teaching.’

  ‘What a cheek!’ said Harriet.

  Toby let out his breath in a laugh and turned to Guy as though to suggest life would be easier if there were no women around. Enraged further, Harriet went on: ‘Guy is a member of the Organization. He was appointed in London and sent out under contract. Gracey is Director here. If Guy wants to see him, he’s bound to see Guy.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Toby, speaking as one who had the upper hand. ‘Your hubby’s got no right to be here.’

  ‘He has a right, if there’s a job here. You said that Gracey had asked the London office for lecturers.’

  ‘That was a year ago. Things have changed since then. No more chaps are being sent to Europe. Europe’s a write-off.’

  ‘Greece isn’t a write-off.’

  ‘Not at the moment, but who knows what’s going to happen? It’s tricky here. Since August, it’s been very tricky.’

  ‘Why? What happened in August?’

  ‘The Italians torpedoed a Greek ship. There was a lot of feeling about it. Any day, things could go up in flames.’

  ‘Oh!’ Harriet had nothing to say. This was a world in which only the ignorant could be happy.

  Seeing he had deflated her, Toby gave her hand a small admonitory pat and grinned. His masculine superiority established, he drank his ouzo neat, like a man, and said: ‘It’s like this! We’ll speak to Mr Gracey. We’ll be seeing him tomorrow. Might even drop in on him tonight. Why not? Anyway, you can rely on us. We’ll put in a word for you. We’ll say you’re a decent chap, good teacher, good mixer, reliable. One of the best, in fact.’

  Guy listened blank-faced to his listed virtues and at the end, said only: ‘We’ll need some money.’

  ‘Must go into that,’ Toby examined the chit beside his glass and brought out a handful of small change.

  ‘Leave that to me.’ Guy said.

  ‘Oh, all right. Must get back to the School; have a busy day. Got to lecture again at twelve. Now, don’t worry. Just wait till you hear from us.’ Toby called a taxi and was gone.

  ‘He was sent after us,’ Harriet said. ‘He rang Dubedat and Dubedat said: “Go after them, you damned fool. Keep them sweet. Stop them making a move on their own.” They don’t want us to see Gracey, that’s clear. But why?’

  ‘Really, darling!’ Guy deplored her suspicion of her fellow-men. ‘They’re not conspirators. They do owe me something, and Dubedat probably saw it that way.’

  ‘They don’t want us here.’

  ‘Why shouldn’t they want us here?’

  ‘For several reasons. If Gracey can get you, he might not want them. There is also the fact you know too much.’

  Guy laughed: ‘What do I know?’

  ‘You know they bolted from Rumania in a funk.’

  ‘They lost their nerve. It could happen to anyone. They couldn’t possibly think we would mention that. They know they can trust us.’

  ‘But can we trust them? I don’t think we should wait to hear from them. We should find out where Gracey is and go to see him.’

  ‘Do we know anyone who knows Gracey?’

  She shook her head and slid her hand into Guy’s hand. ‘Apart from Yakimov, we have no friends.’

  They sat for some moments, hand in hand, reflecting upon their position, then Harriet, glancing in through the café window gave a laugh: ‘There is another person here who’s known to us; someone, what’s more, who might know Gracey.’

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘He’s inside there, eating cakes.’

  Guy looked round to see a little man seated at an indoor corner table. The collar of his greatcoat was up round his ears, his trilby hat was pulled down to his eyes; his shoulders were raised as though against a draught. His hands were gloved. Using a silver fork, he was putting pieces of mille-feuille in through his collar to his mouth. Nothing of his person was visible but a blunt, lizard-grey nose: the nose of Professor Lord Pinkrose who had also bolted from the dangers of Bucharest.

  ‘Pinkrose,’ Guy said without enthusiasm.

  Sent out to lecture in Rumania at a disastrous time, Pinkrose had blamed Guy, as much as anyone, for what he found there. The Pringles could hope for little from him.

  Suddenly a familiar voice called: ‘Dear boy!’ and Pinkrose was forgotten. Guy, giving a cry, jumped up and extended his arms to Yakimov, who tottered into them.

  ‘What a glad sight!’ Yakimov sang on a note of tender rapture. ‘What a glad sight! The dear boy well and safely here among us!’

  They now suffered idleness. With the air growing cooler and more delicate each day, Harriet refused to sit around waiting for word from Dubedat, and said: ‘Let’s see the sights while we have the chance.’

  Guy, uneasy at being taken outside the area of communication, paid a brief visit to the Museum. Next day he agreed, unwillingly, to go up to the Parthenon. Climbing the steps between the ramshackle houses of the Plaka, he could take no pleasure in their character, their coloured shutters, the scraps of gardens and the unknown trees. Several times he came to a stop and, like Lot’s wife, gazed back towards the centre of the town where a message might be arriving for him. He was, whether he liked it or not, a non-combatant in the midst of war and he felt that only work could excuse his civilian status. Now even his work had been taken from him.

  Unhappy for him, Harriet said: ‘If we don’t hear from those two by tomorrow, you must go to the Legation and ask to be put into touch with Gracey. That should settle things one way or the other.’

  ‘It could settle them the worst possible way. If Gracey does not want to see me, I’d be told to take the first boat to Alexandria. We’d just have to go. As it is, Dubedat may do something for us. We have to trust him,’ Guy said, though there was no trust on his face.

  Seeing him held against the blade of reality, forced to deduce that belief in human goodness was one thing, dependence upon it quite another, Harriet felt an acute pity for him. When he paused again, she said: ‘Would you rather go back?’ She had brought him up here against his inclination and had lost her pleasure in the expedition because he could not share it.

  He said: ‘No. You want to see the Parthenon. Let’s get it over.’

  He plodded on in the growing heat. They walked without speaking round the base of the Acropolis hill and climbed up to the entrance.
As they passed through the Propylaea into sight of the Parthenon, Guy stopped in amazement and gave a murmur of wonder. Harriet, with her long sight, had seen the temple clearly enough while wandering in Athens. Set on its hill, it was always surprising the eye, like a half-risen moon. Guy, myopic, saw it now for the first time.

  He pulled down his glasses, trying to elongate his sight by peering through the oblique lenses, then he began making his way cautiously over the rough ground. She ran ahead, transported as though on the verge of a supernatural experience. Imagining there was some magical property in the placement of the columns against the cobalt sky, she went from one to another of them, pressing the palms of her hands upon the sun-warmed marble. From a distance the columns had a luminous whiteness; now she saw that on the seaward side they were bloomed with an apricot colour. In a state of wonder, she moved from column to column, touching each as though it were a friend. When Guy reached her, she pointed towards the haze of the Piraeus and said: ‘Can you see the sea?’

  She watched him pull down his glasses again and was moved, remembering he had told her that when he was a little boy he dared not let his parents know that he was short-sighted because the cost of glasses would have caused a crisis in the household. At school he had not been able to see the blackboard and had been regarded as a dull boy until a perceptive master discovered what the trouble was.

  ‘With the sea so near, we can escape,’ she said. ‘There’s always a boat of some sort.’

  After a long look in the direction of the sea, Guy said: ‘I can’t swim.’

  ‘You can’t?’

  ‘I didn’t even see the sea until I was eighteen.’

  ‘But wasn’t there a swimming-bath?’

  ‘Yes, but it frightened me – the echo and that strange smell.’

  ‘Chlorine. A very sinister shade of yellow, that smell. I don’t like it either.’

  They sat on the top step facing the Piraeus and the distant shadow of the Peloponnesus, and Harriet thought with dismay of the fact that Guy could not swim. There was no safety in the world. Here, on the summit of the Acropolis, she saw them shipwrecked in the Mediterranean and pondered the problem of keeping Guy afloat.