Kingsley Amis - Russian Hide-and-Seek

‘He was a gambler. And you’re not, of course; it doesn’t go with being a dedicated young officer. Which puzzles me a little. I can’t see why you didn’t have to go and tell your squadron commander what was going on. Surely it must have been… entailed on you.’

Colonel Tabidze’s manner had relaxed somewhat, perhaps because he had evidently deferred business after all, unless indeed this discussion of motives was business. At any rate, he now glanced directly at Alexander, who said, with the merest touch of holy simplicity,

‘But I’d given my word of honour, sir. They refused to tell me anything about the game until I had.’

‘But your oath overrides any such commitment.’

‘Major Yakir made the same point. I’m not looking for a justification, your excellency. I only mean to give you my reason.’

‘So you go in for chivalry too. You certainly make life difficult for yourself, don’t you? I mean we must face the fact that a dedicated young officer is constantly being forced to behave in ways that a man of chivalry would find intolerable. And the other way round, of course, as here. Tell me, do you also practise chivalry in your dealings with women?’

Before answering, Alexander crushed out his cigarette in a silver ashtray that was brightly polished in those parts where the plate had not worn away or become corroded. He could not see what the other was up to. Was this elaborate straight-faced ridicule? On all previous form, unlikely. And yet that chatter at the beginning…

‘Well, sir,’ he said finally, ‘perhaps I might put it like this. In that sphere I practise chivalry as far as possible.’

‘That’s not very far, is it?’ said Tabidze with a chuckle, putting his glass down. Then his gaze shifted and he frowned. ‘Which brings me to… My boy, I’ve known you since before you can remember, since I was a dashing young captain, just appointed adjutant to old Colonel Khvylovy. You might remember him. A very upright old chap with teeth that stuck out and a way of snapping his fingers when he was making a point. Anyhow, what I’m trying to say is that I’m an old friend, an old friend of yours and of your family. You must know how highly I regard your father. And your mother too. So, just for a moment, try to forget I’m your commanding officer. And another thing: there’s no reproach or disapproval in what I’m about to say. It’s just advice. A word of warning from an old friend. Can you accept that?’

‘Yes, Uncle Nick.’ Alexander was as full of curiosity as he had ever been in his life.

‘Ah, how many years since! It doesn’t do to think about it. Now this will only take a minute. I’m told, and we needn’t waste time going into who told me – I’m told you’ve been mixing with some exceedingly disreputable company.’

This last phrase happened to coincide with one of Alexander’s periodical previsions of what he was going to be up to almost as soon as this interview was concluded, and struck him as a very useful description of it. His forebodings fell away; the old fool had had his prick throttled in his corsets for so long that he was all of a dither at having to remember what it was for. And that interfering bitch of a wife had indeed been spreading the tale, as he half guessed at that Friday reception. Even after years of trying he had never actually managed to blush at will, but he had got so good at all the accompanying facial and bodily movements that a positive change of colour would have been a concession to purism. He produced one of his best-ever now and muttered something intended as before to be inaudible, having without conscious thought discarded denial as unlooked-for and therefore unproductive. The next words proved the soundness of his instinct.

‘We all go against our better judgement from time to time in our youth. I’m not so sunk in age that I can’t remember behaving foolishly myself. It’s understandable and forgivable; perhaps it’s even necessary. But what’s none of those things is persistence in foolishness. Being swept off one’s feet, carried away, is one thing; to embark on a course of mistaken action and pursue it deliberately is quite another. Are you with me so far?’

‘Yes, sir.’ What sort of person would it have to be who had been unable to keep up with this?

‘Good. Sooner or later, you know, we have to go back, and it had better be sooner than later. There is such a thing as common prudence, after all. You must consider the immense weight of what is after all accepted as how things are supposed to be run. Will you – I beg you – will you give up this disastrous adventure? Please don’t force me to be more specific.’

Alexander hung his head, or more precisely allowed it to droop. ‘You know, sir,’ he said in an interested tone, ‘it’s funny sometimes, the way things work out.’ As he spoke he was telling himself that next week he would be able to bang Mrs Korotchenko in the middle of Northampton market square at midday if he felt like it and if she felt the enterprise would not be too humdrum. ‘You know you ought to do something,’ he twaddled on, deliberately not thinking ahead or back in the interests of verisimilitude, ‘in fact you want to do it very badly, but you just can’t bring yourself to. Lack of will or energy or something. And then, out of the blue, when you think it’ll never happen, something turns up and gives you a nudge and in a flash you’re the other side of the gap. You’ve taken the decision and you’ll never go back on it. Well, that’s what happened to me while you were speaking just now. I’ll break it off, Uncle Nick. In fact I already have; it’s just a question of letting it be known.’

Having followed this with a series of eager nods and a spreading smile, Tabidze came over and embraced him. ‘I’m delighted! What a relief! Sensible lad, to step out in time, before you do anything really foolish. You’ll never know how glad I was to hear you say those words. Which of course are confidential, like everything I’ve said to you. Have another drink, my dear. No, I insist. I’ll join you.’

A few minutes later, Alexander said, ‘Well, you were quite right, sir, I have things to do,’ and sniggered inwardly.

‘You must just have a word with Agatha before you go. She’d never forgive me if you didn’t. In the garden, need I say it? Never out of it when the weather’s half tolerable.’

Mrs Tabidze was out at the back of the house kneeling on a mat of some rubber-like substance, doubtless in the interests of comfort, since her green denim trousers could hardly have been dirtier; she seemed to be attacking a long row of various smallish plants with a pair of clippers. When she saw Alexander she smiled delightedly, got to her feet and took off her equally dirty gloves. They hugged each other; he was quite fond of her, in so far as he was fond of anyone. After the hug he looked about him, or feigned to.

‘The garden’s looking absolutely marvellous, Agatha,’ he said, trying to ram sincerity into his voice. ‘You have done well.’

She glanced at her husband and laughed. ‘Coming from somebody who doesn’t know a daisy from a hollyhock, that’s a handsome compliment. There’s nothing so ignorant as a man when he’s not on his subject.’ She turned. ‘What are you looking so pleased with yourself about?’

‘Oh, Alexander has made a very satisfactory report to me.’

‘By the way you’re beaming he must have reported they’re going to make you a general.’

‘Nothing like that.’

During this exchange, a matter of the barest particle of genuine interest came to Alexander’s mind. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you, Agatha: you remember you told fortunes at that party at our place? The last one was a certain lady,’ – as he felt at the moment he was able to speak with unexampled naturalness – ‘and at the end something happened that surprised you very much. What was it?’