Scoop-Evelyn-Waugh [45]
It was an eventful day. At nine Erik Olafsen came to say good-bye. There was an outbreak of plague down the line and he was off to organize a hospital. He went without enthusiasm. "It is stupid work," he said. "I have been in a plague hospital before. How many do you think we cured?" "I've no idea." "None at all. We could only catch the patients who were too ill to move. The others ran away to the villages, so more and more people got it. In the civilized colonies they send soldiers not doctors. They make a ring all round the place where there is plague and shoot anyone who tries to get out. Then in a few days when everyone is dead they burn the huts. But here one can do nothing for the poor people. Well, the Government have asked me to go, so I leave now. Where is K�hen?" "She's out shopping." "Good. That is very good. She was sad with such old, dirty clothes. I am very glad she has become your friend. You will say good-bye to her." At ten she returned laden with packages. "Darling," she said, "I have been so happy. Everyone is excited that the summer is come and they are all so kind and polite now they know I have a friend. Look at what I have bought." "Lovely. Did you get any news?" "It was difficult. I had so much to say about the things I was buying that I did not talk politics. Except to the Austrian. The President's governess had tea with the Austrian yesterday, but I am afraid you will be disappointed. She has not seen the President for four days. You see he is locked up." "Locked up?" "Yes, they have shut him in his bedroom. They often do that when there are important papers for him to sign. But the governess is unhappy about it. You see it is generally his family who lock him up and then it is only for a few hours. This time it is Dr. Benito and the Russian and the two black secretaries who came from America; they locked him up three days ago and when his relatives try to see him they say he is drunk. They would not let him go to the opening of Jackson College. The governess says something is wrong." "Do you think I ought to report that to the Beast?" "I wonder," said K�hen doubtfully. "It is such a lovely morning. We ought to go out." "I believe Corker would make something of it...The editor seems very anxious for news." "Very well. Only be quick. I want to go for a drive." She left William to his work. He sat at the table, stood up, sat down again, stared gloomily at the wall for some minutes, lit his pipe, and then, laboriously, with a single first finger and his heart heavy with misgiving, he typed the first news story of his meteoric career. No one observing that sluggish and hesitant composition could have guessed that this was a moment of history � of legend, to be handed down among the great traditions of his trade, told and retold over the reeking bars of Fleet Street, quoted in books of reminiscence, held up as a model to aspiring pupils of Correspondence Schools of Profitable Writing, perennially fresh in the jaded memories of a hundred editors; the moment when Boot began to make good. PRESS COLLECT BEAST LONDON he wrote. . . .
NOTHING MUCH HAS HAPPENED EXCEPT TO THE PRESIDENT WHO HAS BEEN IMPRISONED IN HIS OWN PALACE BY REVOLUTIONARY JUNTA HEADED BY SUPERIOR BLACK CALLED BENITO AND RUSSIAN JEW WHO BANNISTER SAYS IS UP TO NO GOOD THEY SAY HE IS DRUNK WHEN HIS CHILDREN TRY TO SEE HIM BUT GOVERNESS SAYS MOST UNUSUAL LOVELY SPRING WEATHER BUBONIC PLAGUE RAGING
He got so far when he was interrupted. Frau Dressler brought him a cable.
YOUR CONTRACT TERMINATED STOP ACCEPT THIS STIPULATED MONTHS NOTICE AND ACKNOWLEDGE STOP BEAST
William added to his message: SACK RECEIVED SAFELY THOUGHT I MIGHT AS WELL SEND THIS ALL THE SAME. K�hen's head appeared at the window. "Finished?" "Yes." He rolled the cable he had received into a ball and threw it into the corner of the room. The yard was bathed in sunshine. K�hen wanted a drive. It was not a good time to tell her of his recall.
Twelve miles out of the town the coming of summer brought no joy to Corker and Pigge. "Look at the flowers," said Pigge. "Yes. Like a bloody cemetery," said Corker. The lorry stood where it had sunk, buried in mud to the axles. On all sides lay evidence of the unavailing efforts of yesterday