1982 - An Ice-Cream War by William Boyd

Author:William Boyd
Format: epub

Chapter 9

18 March 1915,

Stackpole Manor, Kent

Felix took off his eye-patch and stepped out onto the platform at Ashurst Station, blinking furiously in the weak early after-noon sun. His compartment had contained two lieutenants and a major all the way down from Charing Cross and he’d had no opportunity to remove his disguise. He had also buried his head in a book to forestall any embarrassing questions (where and how was he injured?) and the effort of reading with one eye unaided by spectacles had given him a dull headache. He had heard, nonetheless, a lot of talk about a victory at Neuve Chapelle and yet again felt annoying stabs of guilt, until he assuaged them with some of Holland’s arguments which had been directed at Cave-Bruce-Cave.

“But surely,” Gave had once said, “we’re fighting for our freedom?”

“Wrong, my dear Gave,” Holland had said. “We are fighting for our golf and our weekends. We went to war to prevent an Austrian and German pacification of Serbia, that’s all. The French allied themselves with Russia because they were terrified there would be a revolution and Russia would default on all the money they owe to France. Now we’re fighting to keep a tyrannical czar on his throne. Now you tell me. Are those causes worth dying for?”

Holland’s logic seemed incontrovertible. Even Gave had gone off troubled and perplexed. Felix ran through the arguments again as he waited for his right eye to adjust to the unaccustomed light. He called a porter over.

“There’s a cabin trunk in the guard’s van. Would you get it for me, please?”

“Sorry, sir. Pm a parcel porter, sir. Can’t fetch luggage.”

Felix unloaded his trunk himself, then went in search of another porter who, when found, wheeled his trunk into the station yard. Felix had cabled the time of his arrival to his mother but, as usual, there was no one to meet him.

He had smoked three cigarettes before he recognized the Humberette turning into the yard. He was extremely surprised to see Charis at the wheel. She stopped the car and got out.

“Hello, Felix,” she said cheerily. “I had to go into Sevenoaks and your mother asked me to collect you. I do hope you haven’t been waiting long. Oh,” she pointed to the cigarette butts. “You have. I am sorry. Anyway, welcome home.”

She put out her hand and leant forward automatically as if for a kiss. Felix took her hand, but hadn’t thought of kissing her, or anybody, come to that, because of his cold sore, so held back for a moment. By the time he thought, really, he should kiss her, she was family, and leant forward himself, she had withdrawn her face. They see-sawed this way for a brief while until their cheeks eventually brushed. Felix kissed mid-air and felt the touch of her lips on his ear. It made him shiver but he covered it up with a nervous laugh. They both got into the car with red faces, then got out again because they hadn’t loaded the luggage.

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