My dad walked with me. Albie got up and gave me a hug. That was embarrassing because he enveloped me, and my nose came up to about his left nipple. He shook Dad’s hand enthusiastically.
‘You found your Charlie, then, Mr Bassett?’
‘Only because he was looking for you, Captain, and that girl Grace.’
‘There you go. It’s an ill wind blows nobody any good.’ The way his tongue was wrapping itself around his teeth I thought he did well to get that out. When he grinned I saw that one of his incisors wasn’t there. He noticed me noticing it, and held up his right hand for inspection. As well as the bound-up fingers, the top inch of his pinkie was missing. It looked very red; like a recently healed wound.
‘I’m leaving bits all over Europe, Charlie. I soon won’t have enough to ship back home.’
‘What happened to your fingers?’
‘The small one was shot off: didn’t feel a thing. Broke the middle one. Just lashed the others on either side as a splint. Been meaning to get it fixed up for days.’
The nurse was sitting alongside him. Up close you could see how tired she was. She reminded me of Les when he got his pills out of sync: the lights were on, but there was no one in. She wore no lipstick, and for some reason that touched me – I wanted to look after her. I asked her about his fingers. She took a long time to reply. Then she sighed and said, ‘He’ll get gangrene. We’ve told him that. I don’t think he cares.’ She spoke as if Albie wasn’t there.
Albie asked her, ‘How long before you’re back on duty, hon?’
She made a production of checking a small watch which hung drunkenly on her collar. It all happened in slow-mo.
‘. . .’bout three hours. Back shift.’
‘If you’ll give me a quarter hour to talk to my friends here, I’ll walk you back to your tent, and after that I’ll walk you on duty, and you can fix my finger.’
‘You just want to fuck me.’
‘That, too.’
‘OK,’ she said.
Albie asked me, ‘Are you following Grace about?’
‘Yes. Do you know where she is?’
‘She won’t like that.’
‘I promised her.’
‘She still won’t like it.’
Dad was coming back from the bar with the waitress. They each had a tray of beers.
I told Albie, ‘You’re right. I know it. But I haven’t any choice. The RAF sent me.’
‘What the fuck’s it got to do with the RAF?’
‘You didn’t use to swear.’
‘That’s before the Kraut shot things off me, and killed my pals. I’m serious – what the fuck has it got to do with the RAF?’
‘Actually, very little. That’s the way their world seems to work. My boss tells me to go and do something. In reality he’s repaying a favour to someone he owes, who’s repaying a favour to someone he owes, who’s repaying a favour to someone he owes. These are all personal favours: nothing to do with King or Country. It’s person to person inside their business. Am I making sense?’
‘What are you trying to say, Charlie?’
‘That I could be working for the Jerries, and never know it. It depends who wants the favour done in the first place.’ I said it again: probably the first time I faced facts. ‘It’s the way their sort of world seems to work.’ If it sounded sort of lame, it was because it was.
‘Whose world?’
‘Spies,’ I told him. ‘I think.’
‘Fuck . . . off, Charlie!’ That was Albie.
‘Charlie boy, what sort of a mess have you got yourself into?’ That was my old man. They really helped, didn’t they? I felt about ten years old again, exposed and foolish.
Albie told me, ‘You missed her by about a fortnight. She crossed with us, ditched us in France, and then caught us here, after we were shot up again. She was here before those bloody Krauts came back through us.’
‘She was OK, though?’
‘Yeah. She had an orphan child with her. Wet-nursing it: I heard my folks talk about women wet-nursing other people’s children when I was a kid. Never saw it until now. Still has nice little tits.’
‘Do you know where she went?’
‘No. She hung around us for a few days, but I didn’t get to talk to her a real lot.’
‘Don’t worry about it. Talking a lot isn’t what Grace does.’
‘She took a fancy to one of the guys in the squadron. She might have told him more than she told the rest of us. All I know is that she was looking out for some mob of mad Frogs who believe that everyone has the right to medical care, regardless what side they’re on. They say that medicine is like a religion: it has no boundaries. Apparently the Top Brass don’t like them too much.’
‘Will he talk to me, this guy? Grace’s friend?’
‘Who wants to find her, as well as you?’
‘I thought I told you: her parents. They’re VIPs. That means that the Prime Minister wants her found as well because he’s a friend of the family . . . and I sort of got the short straw. Short guys do.’
Albie grinned.
‘OK. I’ll talk to him.’
‘When?’
‘See you back here tonight or tomorrow.’
He hooked his good hand into the nurse’s armpit, and helped her to her feet. In the course of that his own chair fell over backwards. She smiled. It was a self-indulgent smile that said she had a secret. Either that or she was pissed to the eyeballs.
I asked, ‘What do I do till then?’
‘If you don’t need a Doctor yet, grab a little R & R. It’s what this place is for.’
I didn’t like the word yet.
I went round and picked the chair up. Dad was helping a waitress clear the table back to the bar, so I gave up resisting and sat down with strangers. I’ll have to revise that. There
