Kingsley Amis - Russian Hide-and-Seek

‘That was a splendid party,’ said Victor’s voice from behind.

Leo made a scornful noise. ‘How would you know? You’re too drunk to remember it.’

‘That’s how I know it was splendid – great bits of it are missing already. That shows I must have had enough vodka. Did we sing?’

‘Why do you get so drunk?’ said Dmitri.

‘What else is there to be’?’

‘For you, not very much, perhaps,’ said Leo.

‘Well, tonight at least it was a very sensible thing to be. That’s what we went there for, isn’t it? We went there to get drunk, not to talk or sing. Did we sing? Anyway, if we did it was in course of getting drunk, not for its own sake. I can’t think why you went there, unless it was to sneer at the English.’

‘The alternative was sitting in the mess with George and the major.’

‘You’d have missed a marvellous party if you’d done that. Do you know how I know it was marvellous? Because already I can’t remember much about the later bits. Did we sing?’

‘We sang,’ said Dmitri. ‘Now shut up and go to sleep. The Borzoi followed its headlights along stretches of straight road, round wide curves, up and down gentle slopes. Now and then Alexander was visited by the illusion that, instead of the car following the road, the road moved about to suit the car, that it was wherever the car went. He had had the same fancy a couple of times before, he remembered, but only when very tired. Was he very tired now? Certainly he had not slept well the last night or two, whether because thoughts of Mrs Korotchenko had actually kept him awake he had no way of knowing, but he had thought the thoughts all right. Some of them had been fruitless self-questionings about why he found them so disagreeable, even what precisely he found them. He shut his eyes now and tried to imagine he was riding Polly.

He was just beginning to doze when he was jolted back into wakefulness by a momentary uncharacteristic movement of the car. ‘What was that?’

‘I think we hit something,’ said Leo, driving on as before. ‘There was nothing to see.

‘We’d better stop. Go back, in fact.’

‘Why, for Jesus’ sake?’

‘Because our number-plates are illuminated. Have you forgotten what happened to that corporal in 3 Troop who knocked a child down and didn’t report it? And he was riding his horse and carrying out an officer’s order.’

‘I agree with him,’ said Dmitri.

‘Fuck all,’ said Leo violently, and trod on the brake. Some minutes later Alexander said, ‘Here. Just at the start of the bend. It was on my side, wasn’t it?’

‘There’s nothing there,’ said Leo.

‘Wait.’

Taking the torch from its clip under the dashboard,

Alexander got out, walked across the road and at once saw a roughly circular pool of blood a dozen centimetres in diameter. A trail of button-sized drops led into the verge, where it virtually disappeared among the grass, so that even if he had wanted to he would not have been able to follow it. Without thought he raised his head and listened, and at the same moment, as if in response, Leo switched off the engine. In the huge stillness and darkness Alexander heard a cry, very faint or distant. He could not identify it, but then, as he realised, he could not have done so if it had come from five metres off. It was not repeated. He went back to the car.

‘You were quite right,’ he told Leo. ‘There’s nothing there.’

The rest of the journey back to quarters passed in complete silence. The presence of a light in the squadron ante-room turned out to indicate that Boris the commissary, unusually for him, was neither working nor sleeping but instead drinking a glass of beer and glancing through an out-of-date newspaper. He had unfastened his collar to be comfortable and on the entry of the others went hastily to hook it up again before deciding that it was best left as it was. Smiling and nodding his head to them, he got to his feet.

‘What on earth are you doing here, Boris?’ asked Leo. ‘At this time.’

‘He’s been bringing the accounts up to date, haven’t you, Boris?’ said Victor.

‘He might tell us if we give him a chance,’ said Dmitri.

Boris gave an amused laugh. ‘I can’t see what you fellows find so extraordinary. There’s an audit next week and naturally I need to clear my desk. George was playing billiards at the regiment and the major wanted an early night. So I worked late and dropped in for a final beer. Is that so strange?’

‘Not a bit, Boris, not a bit,’ said Leo. ‘You make it sound as natural as breathing.’

There was a short pause. Then Boris said, ‘I suppose you four have been out raising hell somewhere.’

‘We had a tremendous party,’ said Victor. ‘Really tremendous. I think there was singing but I can’t remember for certain. That’s how I know it was a tremendous party. And now what I need is another drink.’

‘Not long ago you were going on about having had enough,’ said Leo.

‘Was I? Well, that was not long ago, you see. Not long ago isn’t the same thing. As now. What I need now is another drink. Where’s that confounded Ochotnitscha?’ Victor began to root clumsily in a cupboard behind the little bar. ‘That thieving peasant of a mess waiter must have taken it to bed with him. Oh, I beg his pardon.’ He poured himself a drink and held up the bottle. ‘Anybody else? You are a miserable lot. I say, Alexander, would you mind signing the chit? I’ll give you the cash in the morning.’

‘Well, gentlemen,’ said Leo loudly, ‘there’s obviously only one way for men of spirit to round off the evening, eh, Victor?’

‘A morsel of Russian hide-and-seek?’

‘Correct. Who’ll join us? Dmitri? Alexander?’

Dmitri agreed; Alexander declined. They all knew him here, had what was by now a settled view of his attributes. And the presence of even the highest grade of visitor (that most worth impressing, in other words) would hardly have got him out into the dark to be shot at. Appearing reckless was one thing, being it very much another. The other three were about to fetch their weapons from upstairs when Boris said indignantly,

‘Isn’t anyone going to ask me?’

‘I’m sorry, Boris,’ said Leo, sounding quite unrepentant, ‘but I’ve rather got out of the habit of thinking of you in this connection.’

‘I’m not a man of spirit, is that it?’

Swaying slightly, Victor patted Boris on the shoulder. ‘You’ve got lots of other very fine qualities, old chap.’

‘I’ll show you who’s a man of spirit,’ said Boris, who had flushed deeply. ‘Can any of you lend me a revolver?’

‘Don’t go, Boris,’ said Alexander; ‘don’t be a fool.’

‘Kindly be quiet, young man, this is no affair of yours. -Yes, Boris, I can and gladly will supply your requirement. We’ll be down directly.’

As soon as they were alone, Alexander said with real urgency, ‘Change your mind. You can still get out of it. Who cares what they think, those idiots?’

‘I do. I can’t get out of it without tremendous loss of face.’

‘Better lose face than… All right, but now listen. The only reason that lot are still alive is that they all break the rules. Listen, Boris. You’re supposed not to move after you’ve called out. But you must. Move like hell. Run, call out and keep going. Or dodge into cover. Have you got that? If you stand still you’ll die.’

‘Don’t worry, Alexander, I can take care of myself.’

‘I’m not sure you can, not in a thing like this.’

‘Whereas I’m absolutely invulnerable when it comes to wielding a pen. Thank you very much.’

‘Oh, merciful Heaven, I wasn’t-’

‘I’m only joking. Keep on the move, I got that. Now don’t worry. Honestly, I promise you I’ll be quite all right.’