Over to You Page 6

  The Stag was very old and wise; he never rushed any fences. He was twenty-seven, much older than anyone else in the squadron, including the C.O., and his judgement was much respected by the others.

  ‘Let’s do a little shopping first,’ he said.

  ‘Then what?’ said the voice from the bathroom.

  ‘Then we can consider the other situation.’

  There was a pause.

  ‘Stag?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you know any women here?’

  ‘I used to. I used to know a Turkish girl with very white skin called Wenka, and a Yugoslav girl who was six inches taller than I, called Kiki, and another who I think was Syrian. I can’t remember her name.’

  ‘Ring them up,’ said Stuffy.

  ‘I’ve done it. I did it while you were getting the whisky. They’ve all gone. It isn’t any good.’

  ‘It’s never any good,’ Stuffy said.

  The Stag said, ‘We’ll go shopping first. There is plenty of time.’

  In an hour Stuffy got out of the bath. They both dressed themselves in clean khaki shorts and shirts and wandered downstairs, through the lobby of the hotel and out into the bright hot street. The Stag put on his sunglasses.

  Stuffy said, ‘I know. I want a pair of sunglasses.’

  ‘All right. We’ll go and buy some.’

  They stopped a gharry, got in and told the driver to go to Cicurel’s. Stuffy bought his sunglasses and the Stag bought some poker dice, then they wandered out again on to the hot crowded street.

  ‘Did you see that girl?’ said Stuffy.

  ‘The one that sold us the sunglasses?’

  ‘Yes. That dark one.’

  ‘Probably Turkish,’ said Stag.

  Stuffy said, ‘I don’t care what she was. She was terrific. Didn’t you think she was terrific?’

  They were walking along the Sharia Kasr-el-Nil with their hands in their pockets, and Stuffy was wearing the sunglasses which he had just bought. It was a hot dusty afternoon, and the sidewalk was crowded with Egyptians and Arabs and small boys with bare feet. The flies followed the small boys and buzzed around their eyes, trying to get at the inflammation which was in them, which was there because their mothers had done something terrible to those eyes when the boys were young, so that they would not be eligible for military conscription when they grew older. The small boys pattered along beside the Stag and Stuffy shouting, ‘Baksheesh, baksheesh,’ in shrill insistent voices, and the flies followed the small boys. There was the smell of Cairo, which is not like the smell of any other city. It comes not from any one thing or from any one place; it comes from everything everywhere; from the gutters and the sidewalks, from the houses and the shops and the things in the shops and the food cooking in the shops, from the horses and the dung of the horses in the streets and from the drains; it comes from the people and the way the sun bears down upon the people and from the way the sun bears down upon the gutters and the drains and the horses and the food and the refuse in the streets. It is a rare, pungent smell, like something which is sweet and rotting and hot and salty and bitter all at the same time, and it is never absent, even in the cool of the early morning.

  The two pilots walked along slowly among the crowd.

  ‘Didn’t you think she was terrific?’ said Stuffy. He wanted to know what the Stag thought.

  ‘She was all right.’

  ‘Certainly she was all right. You know what, Stag?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I would like to take that girl out tonight.’

  They crossed over a street and walked on a little farther.

  The Stag said, ‘Well, why don’t you? Why don’t you ring up Rosette?’

  ‘Who in the hell’s Rosette?’

  ‘Madame Rosette,’ said the Stag. ‘She is a great woman.’

  They were passing a place called Tim’s Bar. It was run by an Englishman called Tim Gilfillan who had been a quartermaster sergeant in the last war and who had somehow managed to get left behind in Cairo when the army went home.

  ‘Tim’s,’ said the Stag. ‘Let’s go in.’

  There was no one inside except for Tim, who was arranging his bottles on shelves behind the bar.

  ‘Well, well, well,’ he said, turning around. ‘Where you boys been all this time?’

  ‘Hello, Tim.’

  He did not remember them, but he knew by their looks that they were in from the desert.

  ‘How’s my old friend Graziani?’ he said, leaning his elbows on the counter.

  ‘He’s bloody close,’ said the Stag. ‘He’s outside Mersah.’

  ‘What you flying now?’

  ‘Gladiators.’

  ‘Hell, they had those here eight years ago.’

  ‘Same ones still here,’ said the Stag. ‘They’re clapped out.’ They got their whisky and carried the glasses over to a table in the corner.

  Stuffy said, ‘Who’s this Rosette?’

  The Stag took a long drink and put down the glass.

  ‘She’s a great woman,’ he said.

  ‘Who is she?’

  ‘She’s a filthy old Syrian Jewess.’

  ‘All right,’ said Stuffy, ‘all right, but what about her’

  ‘Well,’ said Stag, ‘I’ll tell you. Madame Rosette runs the biggest brothel in the world. It is said that she can get you any girl that you want in the whole of Cairo.’

  ‘Bullshit.’

  ‘No, it’s true. You just ring her up and tell her where you saw the woman, where she was working, what shop and at which counter, together with an accurate description, and she will do the rest.’

  ‘Don’t be such a bloody fool,’ said Stuffy.

  ‘It’s true. It’s absolutely true. Thirty-three squadron told me about her.’

  ‘They were pulling your leg.’

  ‘All right. You go and look her up in the phone book.’

  ‘She wouldn’t be in the phone book under that name.’

  ‘I’m telling you she is,’ said Stag. ‘Go and look her up under Rosette. You’ll see I’m right’

  Stuffy did not believe him, but he went over to Tim and asked him for a telephone directory and brought it back to the table. He opened it and turned the pages until he came to R-o-s. He ran his finger down the column. Roseppi… Rosery… Rosette. There it was, Rosette, Madame and the address and number, clearly printed in the book. The Stag was watching him.

  ‘Got it?’ he said.

  ‘Yes, here it is. Madame Rosette.’

  ‘Well, why don’t you go and ring her up?’

  ‘What shall I say?’

  The Stag looked down into his glass and poked the ice with his finger.

  ‘Tell her you are a Colonel,’ he said. ‘Colonel Higgins; she mistrusts pilot officers. And tell her that you have seen a beautiful dark girl selling sunglasses at Cicurel’s and that you would like, as you put it, to take her out to dinner.’

  ‘There isn’t a telephone here.’

  ‘Oh yes there is. There’s one over there.’

  Stuffy looked around and saw the telephone on the wall at the end of the bar.

  ‘I haven’t got a piastre piece.’

  ‘Well, I have,’ said Stag. He fished in his pocket and put a piastre on the table.

  ‘Tim will hear everything I say.’

  ‘What the hell does that matter? He probably rings her up himself. You’re windy,’ he added.

  ‘You’re a shit,’ said Stuffy.

  Stuffy was just a child. He was nineteen; seven whole years younger than the Stag. He was fairly tall and he was thin, with a lot of black hair and a handsome wide-mouthed face which was coffee brown from the sun of the desert. He was unquestionably the finest pilot in the squadron, and already in these early days, his score was fourteen Italians confirmed destroyed. On the ground he moved slowly and lazily like a tired person and he thought slowly and lazily like a sleepy child, but when he was up in the air his mind was quick and his movements were quick, so quick that
they were like reflex actions. It seemed, when he was on the ground, almost as though he was resting, as though he was dozing a little in order to make sure that when he got into the cockpit he would wake up fresh and quick, ready for that two hours of high concentration. But Stuffy was away from the aerodrome now and he had something on his mind which had waked him up almost like flying. It might not last, but for the moment anyway, he was concentrating.

  He looked again in the book for the number, got up and walked slowly over to the telephone. He put in the piastre, dialled the number and heard it ringing the other end. The Stag was sitting at the table looking at him and Tim was still behind the bar arranging his bottles. Tim was only about five yards away and he was obviously going to listen to everything that was said. Stuffy felt rather foolish. He leaned against the bar and waited, hoping that no one would answer.

  Then click, the receiver was lifted at the other end and he heard a woman’s voice saying, ‘Allo’.

  He said, ‘Hello, is Madame Rosette there?’ He was watching Tim. Tim went on arranging his bottles, pretending to take no notice, but Stuffy knew that he was listening.

  ‘This ees Madame Rosette. Oo ees it?’ Her voice was petulant and gritty. She sounded as if she did not want to be bothered with anyone just then.

  Stuffy tried to sound casual. ‘This is Colonel Higgins.’

  ‘Colonel oo?’

  ‘Colonel Higgins.’ He spelled it.

  ‘Yes, Colonel. What do you want?’ She sounded impatient. Obviously this was a woman who stood no nonsense. He still tried to sound casual.

  ‘Well, Madame Rosette, I was wondering if you could help me over a little matter.’

  Stuffy was watching Tim. He was listening all right. You can always tell if someone is listening when he is pretending not to. He is careful not to make any noise about what he is doing and he pretends that he is concentrating very hard upon his job. Tim was like that now, moving the bottles quickly from one shelf to another, watching the bottles, making no noise, never looking around into the room. Over in the far corner the Stag was leaning forward with his elbows on the table, smoking a cigarette. He was watching Stuffy, enjoying the whole business and knowing that Stuffy was embarrassed because of Tim. Stuffy had to go on.

  ‘I was wondering if you could help me,’ he said. ‘I was in Cicurel’s today buying a pair of sunglasses and I saw a girl there whom I would very much like to take out to dinner.’

  ‘What’s ’er name?’ The hard, rasping voice was more business-like than ever.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said sheepishly.

  ‘What’s she look like?’

  ‘Well, she’s got dark hair, and tall and, well, she’s very beautiful.’

  ‘What sort of dress was she wearing?’

  ‘Er, let me see. I think it was a kind of white dress with red flowers printed all over it.’ Then, as a brilliant afterthought, he added, ‘She had a red belt.’ He remembered that she had been wearing a shiny red belt.

  There was a pause. Stuffy watched Tim who wasn’t making any noise with the bottles; he was picking them up carefully and putting them down carefully.

  Then the loud gritty voice again, ‘It may cost you a lot.’

  ‘That’s all right.’ Suddenly he didn’t like the conversation any more. He wanted to finish it and get away.

  ‘Might cost you six pounds, might cost you eight or ten. I don’t know till I’ve seen her. That all right?’

  ‘Yes yes, that’s all right.’

  ‘Where you living, Colonel?’

  ‘Metropolitan Hotel,’ he said without thinking.

  ‘All right, I give you a ring later.’ And she put down the receiver, bang.

  Stuffy hung up, went slowly back to the table and sat down.

  ‘Well,’ said Stag, ‘that was all right, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so.’

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘She said that she would call me back at the hotel.’

  ‘You mean she’ll call Colonel Higgins at the hotel.’

  Stuffy said, ‘Oh Christ.’

  Stag said, ‘It’s all right. We’ll tell the desk that the Colonel is in our room and to put his calls through to us. What else did she say?’

  ‘She said it may cost me a lot, six or ten pounds.’

  ‘Rosette will take ninety per cent of it,’ said Stag. ‘She’s a filthy old Syrian Jewess.’

  ‘How will she work it?’ Stuffy said.

  He was really a gentle person and now he was feeling worried about having started something which might become complicated.

  ‘Well,’ said Stag, ‘she’ll dispatch one of her pimps to locate the girl and find out who she is. If she’s already on the books, then it’s easy. If she isn’t, the pimp will proposition her there and then over the counter at Cicurel’s. If the girl tells him to go to hell, he’ll up the price, and if she still tells him to go to hell, he’ll up the price still more, and in the end she’ll be tempted by the cash and probably agree. Then Rosette quotes you a price three times as high and takes the balance herself. You have to pay her, not the girl. Of course, after that the girl goes on Rosette’s books, and once she’s in her clutches she’s finished. Next time Rosette will dictate the price and the girl will not be in a position to argue.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because if she refuses, Rosette will say, “All right, my girl, I shall see that your employers, that’s Cicurel’s, are told about what you did last time, how you’ve been working for me and using their shop as a market place. Then they’ll fire you.” That’s what Rosette will say, and the wretched girl will be frightened and do what she’s told.’

  Stuffy said, ‘Sounds like a nice person.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Madame Rosette.’

  ‘Charming,’ said Stag. ‘She’s a charming person.’

  It was hot. Stuffy wiped his face with his handkerchief.

  ‘More whisky,’ said Stag. ‘Hi, Tim, two more of those.’

  Tim brought the glasses over and put them on the table without saying anything. He picked up the empty glasses and went away at once. To Stuffy it seemed as though he was different from what he had been when they first came in. He wasn’t cheery any more, he was quiet and offhand. There wasn’t any more ‘Hi, you fellows, where you been all this time’ about him now, and when he got back behind the counter he turned his back and went on arranging the bottles.

  The Stag said, ‘How much money you got?’

  ‘Nine pounds, I think.’

  ‘May not be enough. You gave her a free hand, you know. You ought to have set a limit. She’ll sting you now.’

  ‘I know,’ Stuffy said.

  They went on drinking for a little while without talking. Then Stag said, ‘What you worrying about, Stuffy?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he answered. ‘Nothing at all. Let’s go back to the hotel. She may ring up.’

  They paid for their drinks and said good-bye to Tim, who nodded but didn’t say anything. They went back to the Metropolitan and as they went past the desk, the Stag said to the clerk, ‘If a call comes in for Colonel Higgins, put it through to our room. He’ll be there.’ The Egyptian said, ‘Yes, sir,’ and made a note of it.

  In the bedroom, the Stag lay down on his bed and lit a cigarette. ‘And what am I going to do tonight?’ he said.

  Stuffy had been quiet all the way back to the hotel. He hadn’t said a word. Now he sat down on the edge of the other bed with his hands still in his pockets and said, ‘Look, Stag, I’m not very keen on this Rosette deal any more. It may cost too much. Can’t we put it off?’

  The Stag sat up. ‘Hell no,’ he said. ‘You’re committed. You can’t fool about with Rosette like that. She’s probably working on it at this moment. You can’t back out now.’

  ‘I may not be able to afford it,’ Stuffy said.

  ‘Well, wait and see.’

  Stuffy got up, went over to the parachute bag and took out the bottle of whisky. He poured ou
t two, filled the glasses with water from the tap in the bathroom, came back and gave one to the Stag.

  ‘Stag,’ he said. ‘Ring up Rosette and tell her that Colonel Higgins has had to leave town urgently, to rejoin his regiment in the desert. Ring her up and tell her that. Say the Colonel asked you to deliver the message because he didn’t have time.’

  ‘Ring her up yourself.’

  ‘She’d recognize my voice. Come on, Stag, you ring her.’

  ‘No,’ he said, ‘I won’t.’

  ‘Listen,’ said Stuffy suddenly. It was the child Stuffy speaking. ‘I don’t want to go out with that woman and I don’t want to have any dealings with Madame Rosette tonight. We can think of something else.’

  The Stag looked up quickly. Then he said, ‘All right. I’ll ring her.’

  He reached for the phone book, looked up her number and spoke it into the telephone. Stuffy heard him get her on the line and he heard him giving her the message from the Colonel. There was a pause, then the Stag said, ‘I’m sorry Madame Rosette, but it’s nothing to do with me. I’m merely delivering a message.’ Another pause; then the Stag said the same thing over again and that went on for quite a long time, until he must have got tired of it, because in the end he put down the receiver and lay back on his bed. He was roaring with laughter.

  ‘The lousy old bitch,’ he said, and he laughed some more.

  Stuffy said, ‘Was she angry?’

  ‘Angry,’ said Stag. ‘Was she angry? You should have heard her. Wanted to know the Colonel’s regiment and God knows what else and said he’d have to pay. She said you boys think you can fool around with me but you can’t.’

  ‘Hooray,’ said Stuffy. ‘The filthy old Jewess.’

  ‘Now what are we going to do?’ said the Stag. ‘It’s six o’clock already.’

  ‘Let’s go out and do a little drinking in some of those Gyppi places.’

  ‘Fine. We’ll do a Gyppi pub crawl.’

  They had one more drink, then they went out. They went to a place called the Excelsior, then they went to a place called the Sphinx, then to a small place called by an Egyptian name, and by ten o’clock they were sitting happily in a place which hadn’t got a name at all, drinking beer and watching a kind of stage show. At the Sphinx they had picked up a pilot from Thirty-three squadron, who said that his name was William. He was about the same age as Stuffy, but his face was younger, for he had not been flying so long. It was especially around his mouth that he was younger. He had a round schoolboy face and a small turned-up nose and his skin was brown from the desert.