Jack Ludlow: The Burning Sky

From Aden they went their separate ways, Alverson accompanying Corrie Littleton back to the USA, Jardine and Vince to London, where the boxer found his gym completely refurbished, freshly painted, the window panes whole and new, while any worn equipment had been replaced and the number of youths using the place had doubled.

As the man who had looked after the place for him said, ‘You should go away more often, mate.’

Cal Jardine and Peter Lanchester were at the Army amp; Navy Club, taking luncheon again, talking over what had happened, the former of the opinion that what they had done had been a waste of time. The idea of putting brakes on Mussolini had come to nought, mainly, Jardine insisted, through the appalling and wasteful tactics of most of the Ethiopian commanders, with the caveat that there was no reason why they should alter those to suit the democracies who refused to aid them.

Lanchester was less sure: had they not garnered some goodwill in a spot where in the future it might prove important? ‘The Italians have got their empire and the Stresa Front’s as dead as a dodo too, old boy. Adolf Hitler came out in favour of the Italian invasion the moment they went in and Mussolini was grateful. Il Duce is now firmly in the German camp and Britain, France and the League have egg all over their faces. I can tell you, on the QT, that the purse strings have been much loosened and we are seriously going to rearm.’

‘So, Peter, the road to war just got a little smoother?’

‘’Fraid so. Port?’

Walking towards Piccadilly Circus, only half-listening to Peter Lanchester as he outlined the new fighters and bombers being planned, the new tanks and the expansion of the various services, it was impossible for Cal Jardine not to cast his mind back to Addis Ababa and the bomb damage he had seen there, while looking into the faces of the bustling crowds parading along the pavements, some vacuously, others with real purpose, the notion of mustard gas did not bear thinking about.

‘Did you hear what I asked, old boy?’

‘Sorry, Peter, miles away.’

‘I was asking if you are up for anything else we might need, Cal? Naturally, we all hope it does not come to war, but we must prepare and that might mean the odd little commission for a man of your talents.’

Over luncheon, asked the same thing, Jardine thought he might have refused. But out here, and with the thoughts he had just had, that had changed. What he could achieve on his own had to be limited, but from now on he must see himself as a cog in a larger wheel; in short, in a phrase so overworked in the Great War, he had to do his bit.

‘As soon as I have settled on somewhere to rent, Peter, I’ll send you my phone number.’