William Trevor - Collected Stories

‘ Attention! Les étoiles! ’

‘Ha, ha.’ And to her own surprise, Mrs Hope-Kingley proceeded to reveal to this elderly stranger the story of her marriage.

As he listened, General Suffolk considered how best to play his cards. It was a situation he had found himself in many times before, but as always the game must vary in detail. He felt mentally a little tired as he thought about it; and the fear that, in this, as in almost everything else, age had taken too great a toll struck at him with familiar ruthlessness. In his thirties he had played superbly, as good at love as he was at tennis. Now arrogant, now innocent, he had swooped and struck, captured and killed; and smiled over many a breakfast at the beauty that had been his prize.

They finished their tea. ‘I am slipping along to the County for a drink,’ said the General. ‘Do join me for a quick one.’

‘How kind of you. I must not delay though. My sister will expect me.’ And they climbed into Mrs Hope-Kingley’s small car and drove to the hotel. Over their gins the General spoke of his early days in the army and touched upon his present life, naming Mrs Hinch.

‘What a frightful woman! You must sack her.’

‘But who would do for me? I need my bed made and the place kept clean. Women are not easy to find in the country.’

‘I know a Mrs Gall who lives in your district. She has the reputation of being particularly reliable. My friends the Boddingtons use her.’

‘Well, that is certainly a thought. D’you know, I had become quite reconciled to Hinch. I never thought to change her really. What a breath of life you are!’

After three double gins Mrs Hope-Kingley was slightly drunk. Her face flushed with pleasure. Compliments do not come your way too often these days, thought the General; and he ambled off to the bar to clinch the matter with a further drink. How absurd to be upset by the passing details of the day! What did it all matter, now that he had found this promising lady? The day and its people, so directed against him, were balanced surely by this meeting? With her there was strength; from her side he might look out on the world with power and with confidence. In a panic of enthusiasm he almost suggested marriage. His hands were shaking and he felt again a surge of the old arrogance. There is life in the old dog yet, he thought. Handing her her drink, he smiled and winked.

‘After this I must go,’ the lady said.

‘Come, come, the night is younger than we are. It is not every day I can pick up a bundle of charms in a teashop.’

‘Ha, ha, ha.’ Mrs Hope-Kingley purred, thinking that for once her sister would simply have to wait, and wondering if she should dare to tell her that she had been drinking with an elderly soldier.

They were sitting at a small table in a corner. Now and again, it could have been an accident, the General’s knee touched hers. He watched the level of gin lower in her glass. ‘You are a pretty lady,’ murmured the General, and beneath the table his hand stroked her stockinged knee and ventured a little beyond it.

‘My God!’ said Mrs Hope-Kingley, her face like a beetroot. The General lowered his head. He heard her snatch her handbag from the seat beside him. When he looked up she was gone.

*

‘When were you born?’ General Suffolk asked the man in the bus.

The man seemed startled. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘nineteen-oh-three actually.’

‘No, no, no. What month? When does your birthday fall?’

‘Well, October the 21st actually.’

‘Libra by a day,’ the General informed him, consulting his newspaper as he spoke. ‘For tomorrow, there are to be perfect conditions for enjoying yourself; though it may be a little expensive. Don’t gamble.’

‘I see,’ said the man, glancing in embarrassment through the window.

‘Patrelli is usually reliable.’

The man nodded, thinking: The old fellow is drunk. He was right: the General was drunk.

‘I do not read the stars every day,’ General Suffolk explained. ‘It is only when I happen upon an evening paper. I must say I find Patrelli the finest augur of the lot. Do you not agree?’

The man made an effort to smile, muttering something incomprehensible.

‘What’s that, what’s that? I cannot hear you.’

‘I don’t know at all. I don’t know about such matters.’

‘You are not interested in the stars?’

The man shook his head.

‘In that case, I have been boring you.’

‘No, no –’

‘If you were not interested in my conversation you should have said so. It is quite simple to say it. I cannot understand you.’

‘I’m sorry –’

‘I do not like to offend people. I do not like to be a nuisance. You should have stopped me, sir.’

The man made a gesture vague in its meaning.

‘You have taken advantage of an old warrior.’

‘I cannot see –’

‘You should have halted me. It costs nothing to speak.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Think nothing of it. Think nothing of it at all. Here is my village. If you are dismounting, would you care to join me in a drink?’

‘Thank you, no. I am –’

‘I swear not to speak of the stars.’

‘I go on a bit. This is not my stop.’

The General shook his head, as though doubting this statement. The bus stopped and, aided by the conductor, he left it.

‘Did you see The Guns, General?’ Jock shouted across the bar.

Not hearing, but understanding that the barman was addressing him, General Suffolk waved breezily. ‘A large whisky, Jock. And a drop of beer for yourself.’

‘Did you see The Guns then?’

‘The guns?’

‘The pictures, General. The Guns of Navarone. ’

‘That is very kind of you, Jock. But we must make it some other time. I saw that very film this afternoon.’

‘General, did you like it?’

‘Certainly, Jock. Certainly I liked it. It was very well done. I thought it was done very well indeed.’

‘Two gins and split a bottle of tonic,’ a man called out.

‘I beg your pardon,’ said the General, ‘I think I am in your way.’

‘Two gins and a split tonic,’ repeated Jock.

‘And something for our friend,’ the man added, indicating the General.

‘That is kind of you. Everyone is kind tonight. Jock here has just invited me to accompany him to the pictures. Unfortunately I have seen the film. But there will be other occasions. We shall go together again. May I ask you when you were born, the month I mean?’

The man, whose attention was taken up with the purchasing and transportation of his drinks, said: ‘Some time in May, I think.’

‘But exactly? When is your birthday, for instance?’ But the man had returned to a small table against the wall, where a girl and several packets of unopened crisps awaited him.

‘Jock, do you follow the stars?’

‘D’you mean telescopes and that?’

‘No, no, my boy.’ The General swayed, catching at the bar to balance himself. He had had very little to eat all day: the old, he maintained, did not need it. ‘No, no, I mean the augurs. Capricorn, Scorpio, Gemini, you know what I mean.’

‘Lord Luck in the Daily Express?’

‘That’s it. That’s the kind of thing. D’you take an interest at all?’

‘Well, General, now, I don’t.’

‘When’s your birthday, Jock?’

‘August the 15th.’

‘A Leo, by Harry! It is quite something to be a Leo, Jock. I would never have guessed it.’

Jock laughed loudly. ‘After all, General, it is not my doing.’

‘Fill up our glasses. Let me see what tomorrow holds for you.’ But examining the paper, he found it difficult to focus. ‘Here Jock, read it yourself.’