‘Things were better in the time of Seth. It is no longer a gentleman’s country.’.
The muezzin in the tower turned north towards Mekka and called azan over the city. The Arabs paused reverently and stood in silence … God is great … There is no God but God … Mohammed is the apostle of God …
A two-seater car whizzed by, driven by Mr Reppington, the district magistrate. Mrs Reppington sat beside him.
‘The little bus took that nicely.’
Angelus from the mission church … gratia plena; dominus tecum; Benedicta tu in mulieribus …
The car left the town and mounted towards the hills. ‘Phew. It’s a relief to get out into the fresh air.’
‘Awful road. It ought to be finished by now. I get quite afraid for her back axle.’
‘I said we’d drop into the Brethertons for a sundowner.’
‘Bight you are. Only we can’t stay long. We’re dining with the Lepperidges.’
A mile above the town they stopped at the second, of six identical bungalows. Each had a verandah and a garden path; a slotted box on the gate-post for calling cards. The Brethertons were on the verandah.
‘Cheerio, Mrs Reppington. Cocktail?’
‘Please.’
‘And you, Reppington?’
‘Chota peg.’
Bretherton was sanitary inspector and consequently of slightly inferior station to Reppington, but that year he would sit for his Arabic exam; if he brought it off it would make them level on the salary list.
‘What sort of day?’
‘Oh, the usual. Just tooled round condemning native houses. How are things at the Fort?’
‘Not so dusty. We settled that case I told you about. You know, the one of the natives who built a house in a broken lorry in the middle of the road.’
‘Oh, ah. Who won it?’
‘Oh, we gave it to the chap in possession on both counts. The Arab who originally owned the car was suing him. So were the Works Department — wanted to evict him because he blocked the traffic. They’ll have to make a new road round him now. They’re pretty fed up, I can tell you. So are the Frenchies.’
‘Good show.’
‘Yes, give the natives respect for British justice. Can’t make your Frenchy see that … Why, it’s later than I thought. We must be pushing along, old girl. You’re not dining with the Lepperidges by any chance?’
‘No.’
The Brethertons were not on dining terms with the Lepperidges. He was O.C. of the native levy, seconded from India and a very considerable man in Matodi. He always referred to Bretherton as the ‘latrine wallah’.
So the Reppingtons went to dress in their bungalow (fifth of the row), she in black lace, he in white mess-jacket. Punctually at 8.1 5 they stepped across to the Lepperidges’. There were five courses at dinner, mostly from tins, and a glass dish in the centre of the table held floating flower heads. Mr and Mrs Grainger were there; Mr Grainger was immigration officer. He said: ‘We’ve had rather a shari this afternoon about that fellow Connolly. You see, strictly speaking, he can claim Azanian nationality. He seems to have been quite a big bug under the Emperor. Ran the army for him. Got made a Duke or something. Last sort of fellow one wants hanging about.’
‘Quite.’
‘Jungly Wallah. They say in the old days he had an affair with the wife of the French Minister. That made the Frenchies anxious to get rid of him.’
‘Quite. It helps if one can oblige them now and then in small things.’
‘Besides, you know, he’s married to a wog. Well, I mean to say …’
‘Quite.’
‘But I think we’re going to get rid of him all right. Deport him D.B.S. He lost all his money in the revolution.’
‘And the woman in the case?’
‘Well, that’s no business of ours once we clear him out of here. They seem struck on each other all right. He’ll find it pretty awkward. Aren’t many places would have him. Abyssinia might. It was different when this place was independent.’
‘Quite.’
‘Jolly good tinned fruit salad, if you don’t mind my saying so, Mrs Lepperidge.’
‘So glad you like it. I got it from Youkoumian’s.’
‘Useful little fellow Youkoumian. I use him a lot. He’s getting me boots for the levy. Came to me himself with the idea. Said they pick up hookworm through going barefoot.’
‘Good show.’
‘Quite.’
Night over Matodi. English and French police patrolling the water-front. Gilbert and Sullivan played by gramophone in the Portuguese Fort.
Three little maids from school are we,
Pert as a schoolgirl well can be,
Filled to the brim with girlish glee —
Three little maids from school.
The melody and the clear voices floated out over the harbour and the water lapping very gently on the sea-wall. Two British policemen marched abreast through the involved ways of the native quarter. The dogs had long ago been rounded up and painlessly put away. The streets were empty save for an occasional muffled figure slipping by them silently with a lantern. The blank walls of the Arab tenements gave no sign of life.
On a tree by a river a little tom tit
Sang Willow, tit-willow, tit-willow.
And I said to him ‘Dicky bird, why do you sit
Singing Willow, tit-willow, tit-willow?’
Mr Youkoumian tactfully ejected his last customer and fastened the shutters of the café. ‘Very sorry,’ he said. ‘New regulation. No drinking after ten-thirty. I don’t want no bust—ups.’
‘Is it weakness of intellect, birdie?’ I cried,
‘Or a rather tough worm in your little inside?’
With a shake of his poor little head, he replied,
Oh willow, tit-willow, tit-willow.’
The song rang clear over the dark city and the soft, barely perceptible lapping of the water along the sea-wall.
THE END
Stonyhurst — Chagford — Madresfield
September 1931 — May 1932
Evelyn Waugh, Black Mischief
(Series: # )
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