Loot! he had thought, but without daring to ask, as he had felt the weight of the glass and cutlery, and the lightness and strength of the plates, one after another. Or . . . not loot, but the legitimate spoils-of-war – remember where you are, Fred! But, loot or spoils, it had been unreal: unreal places, unreal people, unreal conversation, unreal candlelit setting, unreal food –
‘Deer ham, Herr Major – thinly sliced, slightly smoked . . . what you would call “venison”, Herr Major. Upon a leaf of the lettuce, with the cranberry sauce. And also with the horseradishes sauce –
so!’
‘Interesting word, “venison”.’ (Voice from down the table, not directed at him.) ‘Middle English, of course –Old French, too . . .
“Venery” – “Venerer” – “venison”; “hunting”, “huntsman”,
“hunted flesh”.’
‘“Venery”, Philip? I thought that was to do with sex, not animals.
Same thing though, I suppose.’
‘Not the same thing at all, Alec. Same spelling –different root.
That venery is from “Venus” – like “venereal” –’
‘Hah! Don’t have to hunt for that, by God! Whole bloody army’ll be rotten with it by this time next year, mark my words. Once the fratting really starts – when everyone’s got his own woman.’ (Harsh voice, with the faintest Scottish roll to each ‘r: big angular face, with arched nose above a mouthful of teeth.) dummy4
’Interesting though, I would agree.‘
‘I didn’t mean that. What I meant was that all hunted flesh was originally “venison”, not just the deer. Boar, hare – any game animal. It was all venison.’
‘Oh aye? And would that include the two-legged variety, then?’
‘Pheasant, grouse –’
‘Och no! I mean man, old boy! The best game of all –the gamest game . . . our game, tonight – ’
Fred straightened up, conscious suddenly that he had slumped back against the trunk of his tree again.
Stand up straight – shoulders back – umbrella vertical –feet firmly placed (it was hard to keep them firm in the soft forest detritus into which they kept sinking) – mustn’t doze off (the utter darkness was disorientating: how the hell would Audley find his way back to this particular tree, for God’s sake?). Then he remembered the silly little metallic toy Audley had given him, which was still clenched in his hand.
‘It’s two clicks for the assault group, and one click in recognition,’
Audley had said. ‘ But if you hear three clicks, that’ll be me. And then you give four clicks back. And once I’ve left you, then you give me four clicks every five minutes, until you hear me. And then, when I give you three back, you give me four again. Right?’
It had sounded juvenile. But then Audley had said: ‘ The Yank paratroopers used it on D-Day, in Normandy –it’s a clever wheeze, Fred.’ And then it hadn’t been so childish –
dummy4
He pressed the toy: click-click-click-click!
Nothing. Only the sound of the rain –
‘Herr Major . . . Haul Brion, ’34 – please?‘
‘A good year.’ (Audley’s mouth was full of deer ham.) ‘Eh?’
The best since ‘29, Captain David.’ (Otto bobbed agreement.)
‘Besides which, it’s the best wine we have with us. But if you want to enjoy it then steer clear of the horseradish.’ (The voice was friendly, slightly slurred.) ‘Alec McCorquodale – Frederick Fattorini, is it – ?’
‘Yes.’ (The Crocodile, at last! But he had guessed that from the teeth already.) ‘Thanks for the advice . . . Alec.’
‘It’s “Freddie” actually, Alec.’ (Amos de Souza, from down the table.)
‘No, it isn’t – ’ (Audley was still wolfing his deer ham.)
‘Freddie? You wouldn’t be Luke Fattorini’s boy, by any chance?’
‘He’s my uncle.’ Everyone seemed to know Uncle Luke.
‘Oh aye?’ (The Crocodile pointed his big nose like a weapon, sighting Fred down it.) ‘Now, it was his elder brother married Angus Armstrong’s daughter – eh?’
‘Yes.’ (His own mouth was full.) ‘My . . . father – ’ (Chew!)‘ – and my mother.’
‘F-f-fff . . .’ (The sound came from Audley.) ‘It’s “Fred”, not F-ff . . . “Freddie”.’
dummy4
‘What?’ (The big nose changed direction.) ‘Ah . . . now, I’ve a bone to pick with you, young David. Rrrelat-ing to my vehicle.’
‘Oh?’ (Innocence.) ‘Ah . . . yes, Alec. I w-was going to tell you about that. But I had to look after F-f-Fred, you see –’
