Fielding Gray

by Simon Raven

  'That's all right, dear lady. I don't need to be told how lucky I am. I acquired this six months ago on local leave in Oute.'

  We all trooped into the drawing-room, Mrs. Tuck looking vaguely annoyed, possibly at having been 'acquired' in Oute. When she sat down her shorts rode up another inch. Has she I wondered, got anything on underneath them?

  My father absent-mindedly poured quadruple whiskies all round (rather stingy singles were his usual form) and conversation of a kind began.

  'So this is your young hopeful,' said Mr. Tuck. 'Your father says - turning fiercely on me - 'that you've got brains.'

  I concentrated on keeping my eyes away from Mrs. Tuck's loins.

  'What are you going to do with yourself?' Mr. Tuck continued with a snarl.

  'It's uncertain. The Army for a time, of course. And then Cambridge. Or Cambridge,' I stammered, 'and then the Army.'

  'I told you,' my father said 'he's got Cambridge on the brain.'

  'He has a scholarship to Lancaster,' said mama defensively.

  'What in?' asked Mr. Tuck with contempt,

  The classics. Latin and Creek.'

  'Never went in for that sort of thing myself. Keener on practical things.'

  'That's what I always say,' my father said.

  Mrs. Tuck, looking bored, set her empty glass firmly down.

  'More whisky?' said my father.

  Mrs. Tuck nodded and said nothing.

  'Ice, dear?' said mama, then seemed to think she had somehow used the wrong idiom. 'Ice, Mrs. Tuck?' she emended.

  'Call her Angela,' said Mr. Tuck. 'I call her Ange,' he added aggressively, as though warning everyone that the privilege was exclusive; 'don't I, Ange?'

  Mrs. Tuck took a long drink of whisky.

  'Your father tells me,' said Mr. Tuck turning back to myself, 'that you might like to join us. We're looking for young chaps with the right background.'

  'What background is that?'

  'Well, you know, decent school, decent parents ... all this,' said Mr. Tuck, gesturing round the room at two water colours by mama and some hunting prints which father had bought cheap in a sale. 'Solid,' Mr. Tuck expanded; 'nothing flashy. Reliable young chaps who can do a sound job of work. And keep the Indians in their proper place.'

  'Won't they be wanting their plantations back fairly soon?'

  'What gave you that idea?'

  'There seem to be suggestions of that kind in the air just now,' I said.

  'They can't do without us, and they know it. Why only the other day I was talking to one of their own chaps—'

  '—Jesus Christ,' said Mrs. Tuck, speaking for the first time, 'you do bore me. I think you must be the biggest bore in the world.'

  She got up, put down her empty glass, and retreated to the French window.

  'Steady on, old girl,' Mr. Tuck began.

  But his mem-sahib was trying the handle.

  'Let me,' I said. I slipped the catch and held the door open for her. 'Ill show you the garden.'

  'That's right, dear,' said mama, 'you show Angela the garden.'

  'But what about the discussion?' my father complained.

  'It'll keep for a minute,' said Mr. Tuck. 'Let 'em go out for a blow. Leave us old fogies to the booze.' He paused for a moment. Then,

  'Old Ange often blows up like that,' he said hilariously, and started to laugh more loudly than ever, straining out guffaw after guffaw as though he was taking part in some kind of endurance test.

  'I'm glad you gave me an excuse to get out of that,' I said to Mrs. Tuck as the laughter died behind us.

  'What have you got to complain about? At least you're not married to any of them.'

  Mrs. Tuck was plainly too full of her own woes to sympathize much with anyone else's. We walked down a well kept lawn, the pride of my father, who was an assiduous amateur gardener, and then through some prettily arranged shrubs to a little pond. Mrs. Tuck sat down on a stone seat. She put her hands on her elbows and straddled heavily.

  'No need for you to hang about.' she said.

  'I'd like to. If I'm not in your way.'

  Mrs. Tuck shrugged, not unkindly, then patted the seat by her side.

  'I dare say,' she said after a little while, 'that you're surprised at me for making a scene.'

  'We have them all the time in our family.'

  'At least you're not hooked. You can leave any day you want to.'

  I let this pass.

  'Can't you?' I said.

  'Daddy,' she remarked abruptly, 'was a colonel in the Indian Army Pay Corps. One day they found his accounts were rather odd. So they took him away to arrange a Court Martial and I was left alone in the bungalow. With all those spiteful women - you know the sort - coming in all the time to ask If there was anything they could do. "You poor creature”, she mimicked badly,' "you must think of me as a mother.” I had to get out. And then Tuck turned up, on leave from his plantation. Just my luck. It was Tuck or nothing,' she said, as though it were a line of a repertory play which she was repeating for the seven hundredth time.

  'And your father?'

  'Dismissed the service. Some old friend found him something in Hong Kong. God knows what he'll get up to there.'

  You ran out, I thought: as soon as things got tough, you ran out. And you didn't even have the sense to look where you were running.

  'It was lovely up there before Daddy got into trouble,' she was saying: 'race meetings, dances, golf. They had a real grass course. New people on leave all the time. And I had to get Tuck.'

  'Why?'

  'What do you mean, why?'

  'With all those other people passing through on leave?'

  'The word had gone round about Daddy. But Tuck was so potty for a juicy young woman that he just didn't care.'

  'So you took advantage of him and now you're being well paid out.'

  'If you're keen on golf,' I said, 'perhaps we might play? The course here is very good. And very beautiful. Between the sea and the saltmarshes.'

  'You're rather sweet.' she said. Was it my imagination, or was her knee pressing against mine?

  'Fielding? Fielding?' It was mama from the lawn.

  'When?' I said gruffly.

  'When what?' said Mrs. Tuck, and withdrew her knee unhurriedly, leaving me in doubt whether or not it had been there by accident.

  'Golf. Tomorrow?'

  'Not before Wednesday.'

  'That's nearly a week.'

  'I know.' She patted my hand. 'I don't want Tuck to be jealous. If we make it too soon ...'

  Delicious thought.

  'All right,' I said: 'Wednesday. Half past two?'

  She nodded. 'I'll look forward very much.'

  'Fielding.' Mother was growing urgent.

  'We must go,' said Mrs. Tuck softly, and held my hand until we came in sight of my mother on the lawn.

  'There you are, dear. Angela too ... I'm afraid you must come in, Fielding, because Mr. Tuck wants to ask you some questions. About your School Certificate and things.'

  'For Christ's sake, mother. Father must know I won't go out there.'

  'Yes, yes, dear, but if you could - well - humour him till he gets over it. You know how he is. If you pretend to fall in with the idea, he'll forget it almost at once.'

  'What's the matter with going out there?' said Mrs. Tuck, puzzled.

  'Nothing, I suppose. But I've got other plans. Cambridge.' 'Well, if that's what you fancy ...' Mrs. Tuck shook her head, as if troubled by a fly. 'India can be great fun, you know.'

  'I'm sure. But it's not for me.'

  Mrs. Tuck looked at me blankly, then smiled a smile that turned my inwards over.

  'I'll go on home,' she said, moving away easily on her strong, lovely legs. Tell Tuck to stay out as late as he wants so long as he doesn't disturb me when he gets in.'

  'Yes, dear,' said mama, rather shocked.

  Mrs. Tuck turned to smile once more.

  'Wednesday,' she cooed back at me, and was gone into the night.

&nbs
p; 'Dear Fielding (Christopher wrote),

  'Sorry I've been so long answering your letter, but something awkward's happened. As you know, I only just managed in my exams, and the head man's suggested to my parents that l ought to have tuition during the holidays. They've found someone from Oxford who's to come and stay and be my tutor for three or four weeks in August. It's realty a good idea, I suppose, but I do wish to God it wasn't happening because it means you can't come until September. I mean, there'd be room all right, but my parents think I ought to concentrate on this tuition, and anyhow it wouldn't be the same. I'm miserable about this, but there's nothing to be done.

  'I remember you saying that you were going to stay with the head man in Wiltshire on 7th September or thereabouts. Why not come here for a few days before going there? It's not far out of your way, only ¾ of an hour from London, which you'll have to pass through anyway. I feel ghastly about putting you off like this, and terribly disappointed, but what can l do? Please let me know that you can come in early September.

  “All my love,

  'Christopher'

  'PS. (Two hours later) The new tutor's just arrived. He seems quite decent, but he's very ugly, rather like Somerset L-J, though no spots. Also. I'm afraid he's rather an oik, and he seems wry intense. Oxford Group or something? Keep your fingers crossed for me.

  'Christopher.'

  This letter was a blow, but perceptibly less of a blow than it would have been had I not now met Angela Tuck. Although there had been something ambiguous about the encouragement which she offered me, encouragement it had certainly been; and she had made it very plain that her marriage was not to be regarded as an inhibiting factor. Angela, in a word, was fair game; even if nothing came of the chase, the days would pass the quicker when it started. Meanwhile. I looked forward to our golf match with a mixture of acute nervousness and unbridled reverie.

  Although I had politely answered Mr. Tuck's questions and even filled in a form, thereby seeking to deny my father that sense of being opposed which alone gave spice to his activities, we still hadn't heard the last of the tea-planting scheme.

  'I want to get it all settled,' my father said. 'A definite application must be made. I want to see more keenness.'

  'But Jack dear, Mr. Tuck said we couldn't do anything more until we knew about Fielding's Army service.'

  'Well, what about his Army service? Is he trying to find out? There must be people he could go and see.'

  'I've told you,' I said: 'I've been deferred for another year because I'm a candidate for a University award.'

  'But if you're going to India,' said my father with relish, 'you won't need a University award. Therefore you needn't be deferred. Why,' he said, clapping his hands spitefully together, 'we might even be able to get you into the Army this autumn. And as soon as that's out of the way you'll be free to leave for India at once.'

  'It's too late to get me undeferred,' I said, uncertain whether , or not this was true. 'Anyway, the Headmaster's made all his arrangements on the understanding that I'm coming back. And apart from anything else, you haven't given notice, so they'd charge you at least one quarter's fees for nothing at all.'

  This argument told.

  'By God, we'll see about that,' said my father, slapping his hands together once more. 'I just wouldn't pay, that's all.'

  'Then they'd sue you and you'd look a frightful fool.'

  My father gave a grunt of rage.

  'And anyhow,' I went on. 'you said you wouldn't go back on your word. About next year.'

  'These days we have to take our chances when we see them. It's all very well for that Headmaster of yours, dreaming away about Latin and Greek all day long. What does he know about the practical things?'

  'Enough to administer a large school, and act as a housemaster, and sit on several commissions in London, and get an important book written, all in the face of a horrible war and a crippling shortage of staff and materials of every kind.'

  'What's the book got to do with it? '

  'Nothing. That's the point. He just managed to get it written as well as coping with all the practical things, as you call them.'

  But the point was lost on my father.

  'Well, one thing I can do,' he said, grinding his teeth, 'is to write to Lancaster College and tell them that you won't be wanting your place there.'

  'But Jack dear, supposing this tea thing falls through?'

  'That's just what you'd both like, isn't it? I'll see it doesn't fall through. You can rely on that.'

  The next day we heard that after two bombs of a new and hideously powerful kind had been dropped on cities in Japan the Japanese had surrendered unconditionally. Good, I thought: quite a chance now that I won't have to do any Army service at all.

  '... And so [the Headmaster wrote from Wiltshire], you need have no worries about Lancaster. They're not interested in your father's plans, about India or anything else, only in yours. It is true they will want to know where their fees are to come from: but all sorts of systems of government subsidy are now being mooted, and I've no doubt at all that your case will be covered - though it might mean doing your Army service before you go up, which is perhaps the better choice anyhow.

  (Incidentally, l don't think the end of the war in the Far East will make much difference to your military liabilities.) However, just in case your father's letter should cause the college authorities any doubts. I've written to Robert Constable the Tutor (you met him last quarter, / think?) to reassure him and to set everything straight. I know it must be tiresome for you to put up with this kind of behaviour, but you must try to remember that your father is a busy man and is no doubt suffering from the strain of these last years.'

  Lolling about boasting in R.A.O.C. messes.

  This is black news [the Headmaster continued], from Japan. It is tempting to let relief, that the war is now finally over, oust any other emotion. I hope that you will not make this mistake. An element more terrible than any I could have thought possible has now obtruded itself into our lives, and I do not see any limit to the potential horrors which may develop from it. And this is to take only a selfish view. What has already been done to the people of Japan, and done in our name, is horror enough

  That's all very well, I thought; but then no one was going to send you out there to risk your neck in the jungle.

  'My wife and I [the letter concluded], are looking forward to seeing you about 7th September. Perhaps you will write and let us have an exact date? By the way. I've written to Somerset Lloyd-James and asked him to join us if he can. I felt he would make an interesting addition to the party.'

  The hell he will, I thought. If I go to stay in Tonbridge en route for Wiltshire, as Christopher suggests, then Somerset will smell out my state of sin the first moment he sees me. Or will he? For Christ's sake be reasonable. We're all beginning to go on as if Somerset had a crystal ball. And anyway, all that can be forgotten for the time being, because this afternoon is golf with Angela Tuck.

  Mrs. Tuck was rather late, but she was impeccably dressed and turned out to be a thoroughly competent player. She declared her handicap as eight; and though at first sceptical of this, I found myself two down after the first five holes.

  'I never thought you'd be so good.'

  'Why not? They say women need big bottoms for golf, and, I'm well equipped there.'

  She hit her ball straight down the fairway the best part of two hundred yards. I squared up to mine, hit too hard and lifted my head, struck the ball with the heel of the club, and saw it hop fiercely into a bunker twenty yards away and forty-five degrees to my left.

  'Bugger,' I said, and apologized hastily to Mrs. Tuck, who smiled and shrugged.

  Excited by this tolerant behaviour, I took my No. 8, walked into the bunker, sent my ball flopping out in a cloud of sand, and yelled blue murder.

  'Whatever's the matter?'

  'Something's got in my eye.'

  'Come here then.'

  As she examined my eye, she came
very close; her splendid breasts brushed against my shirt, her belly pressed up against mine. For about ten seconds she stayed quite still; then she made a quick dab with her handkerchief and stood back.

  'All right?' she said.

  'I'm not sure it's really out.'

  'Aren't you now? I'll have another look ... later.'

  At the end of the hole I was three down.

  'Your father's been on at Tuck about your job,' Mrs. Tuck said a few holes later on. 'He wants to know what the next step is.'

  'There isn't a next step.'

  'You really don't want it?'

  'I've told you. I want to go to Cambridge.'

  Mrs. Tuck sighed gently.

  'But you filled in that form, didn't you?' she said, and put her ball dead from fifty yards.

  'Only to keep my father quiet. I didn't suppose your husband cared much either way.'

  'Oh but he does, Fielding. When Tuck came on leave, he was told to recruit suitable young men over here. Promised a bonus if he did well at it.'

  'In a few months there'll be ex-officers at a penny a score.' 'Not just any young men. Young men from good schools, to give the place a bit of tone ... and young men whose fathers have money to invest.'

  'Just let Tuck try getting money out of my father.'

  'Tuck,' she said softly, 'has more ways of persuading people than you might think.'

  I took my No. 6 for my chip shot and hit the ground some inches behind the ball. It described a flaccid little arc and fell lifeless, still twenty yards short of the green. I looked at it stupidly.

  'Is there any way,' I said at last, 'of calling your husband off?'

  'It could mean promotion for him. Important promotion.'

  'What do you care?'

  'Since I'm stuck with Tuck,' she said, placidly but very firmly, 'I'd sooner it was for richer than for poorer.'

  She plopped in a twelve foot putt.

  'Five up,' she said, 'and nine to go. I could do with a rest.' We sat down on a sand dune, from which we could look across an empty beach to the sea. The breeze whispered through the seattered, spiky grasses; the sand was warm.

  'Lonely,' said Mrs. Tuck, and shivered slightly despite the sun. She moved closer. 'Let's have another look at your eye,' she said.