Scoop-Evelyn-Waugh [38]
Next morning, at dawn, the first lorry started. It was shared by Corker and Pigge. They sat in front with the driver. They had been drinking heavily and late the night before and, in the grey light, showed it. Behind among the crates and camp furniture lay six torpid servants. William rose to see them off. They had kept the time of their departure a secret. Everyone, the evening before, had spoken casually of "making a move at tennish," but when William arrived at the Liberty the whole place was astir. Others besides Pigge and Corker had conceived that an advantage might come from a few hours' start...all the others. Corker and Pigge were away first, by a negligible margin. One after another their colleagues took the road behind them. Pappenhacker drove a little two-seater he had bought from the British Legation. Many of the cars flew flags of Ishmaelia and of their own countries. One lorry was twice the size of any other; it rode gallantly on six wheels; its sides were armour-plated; it had been purchased, irregularly and at enormous expense, from the War Office and bore in vast letters of still tacky paint the inscription: EXCELSIOR MOVIE-SOUND EXPEDITIONARY UNIT TO THE ISHMAELITE IDEOLOGICAL FRONT. During these latter days the rains had notably declined, giving promise of spring. The clouds lay high over the town, revealing a wider horizon; and, as the cavalcade disappeared from view, the road to Laku lay momentarily bathed in sunshine. William waved them good-bye from the steps of the Jackson memorial and turned back towards the Pension Dressler, but as he went the sky darkened and the first drops began to fall. He was at breakfast when his boy reported. "All come back." "Who?" "All newspaper fellow come back. Soldiers catch 'em one time and take 'em plison." William went out to investigate. Sure enough the lorries were lined up outside the police station and inside, each with an armed guard, sat the journalists. They had found the barricades of the town shut against them; the officer in charge had not been warned to expect them; he had been unable to read their passes and they were all under arrest. At ten, when Dr. Benito began his day's routine at the Press Bureau, he received them apologetically but blandly. "It is a mistake," he said. "I regret it infinitely. I understood that you proposed to start at ten. If I had known that you intended to start earlier I would have made the necessary arrangements. The night-guard have orders to let no one through. You will now find the day-guard on duty. They will present arms as you pass. I have given special instructions to that effect. Good-bye, gentlemen, and a good journey." Once more the train of lorries set off; rain was now falling hard. Corker and Pigge still led; Wenlock Jakes came last in a smart touring car. William waved; the populace whistled appreciatively; at the gates of the city the guard slapped the butts of their carbines. William once more turned to the Pension Dressler; the dark clouds opened above him; the gutters and wet leaves sparkled in sunlight and a vast, iridescent fan of colour, arc beyond arc of splendour, spread across the heavens. The journalists had gone, and a great peace reigned in the city.
K�hen was back, smoking in a long chair on the verandah. "Lovely," she said. "Lovely. In a few days now the rains will be over." She had been early to the hairdresser and, in place of the dank wisps of yesterday, her golden head was a tuft of curls. She had a new dress; she wore scarlet sandals and her toe-nails were painted to match them. "The dress came yesterday," she said. "There is an Austrian lady who sewed it for me. I wanted to put it on last night, when we went to play ping-pong, but I thought you would like it best when my hair was done. You do like it?" "Immensely." "And I got this," she said. "It is French." She showed him an enamelled vanity case. "The hairdresser sold it to me...From Paris. Lipstick, powder, looking glass, comb, cigarettes. Pretty?" "Very pretty." "And now Frau Dressler is angry with me again, because of her bill. But I don't care. What business of hers is it if I sell my husband's specimens? I offered them to her and she said they were not valuable. I don't care, I don't care. Oh, William, I am so happy. Look at the rainbow. It gets bigger and bigger. Soon there will be no room in the sky for it. Do you know what I should like to do today? I should like us to take a motor-car and drive into the hills. We could get some wine and, if you ask her, Frau Dressler will make a hamper. Do not say it is for me. Let us get away from this city for a day ..."