The Valley of Bones - Anthony Powell [13]
‘I am, as a matter of fact.’
He made marriage sound as if it required some excuse.
‘I thought you would be,’ he said. ‘As I mentioned, I’m not. Never found the right girl somehow.’
Bithel looked infinitely uncomfortable when he admitted that. There was a pause in our conversation. I could not think of anything to suggest. Girls certainly did not appear much in his line, though you never could tell. I asked how he came to be in the Territorial Army Reserve, which seemed to require explanation.
‘Joined the Terriers years ago,’ he said. ‘Seemed the thing to do. Never thought I’d wear uniform again when I gave them up. Rather glad to get back now and have some regular money rolling in. I’ve been out of a job, as a matter of fact, and what I’ve got doesn’t support me. We draw Field Allowance here, so I heard last night. I expect you know that already. Makes a nice addition to the pay. Funds were running rather low, to tell the truth. Always such a lot to spend money on. Reading, for instance. I expect you’re an omnivorous reader, if you’re a journalist. What digests do you take?’
At first I thought he referred to some sort of medical treatment, harking back to the conversation of the chaplains the night before, then realized the question had something to do with reading. I had to admit I did not take any digests. Bithel seemed disappointed at this answer.
‘I don’t really buy a lot of digests myself,’ he admitted. ‘Perhaps not as many as I should. They have interesting articles in them sometimes. About sex, for instance. Sex psychology, I mean. Do you know about that?’
‘I’ve heard of it.’
‘I don’t mean the cheap stuff just to catch the eye, girls and legs, all that. There are abnormal sides you’d never guess. It’s wiser to know about such things, don’t you think?’
‘Certainly.’
Bithel moved nearer as we walked, lowering his voice again. There was a faint suggestion of scented soap at this close, too close, range.
‘Did they say anything about me before I arrived?’ he asked in a troubled tone.
‘Who?’
‘Anybody in the Battalion?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Any details about my family?’
‘Somebody said you were a brother of the VC.’
‘They did?’
‘Yes.’
‘What did you say when they told you that?’
‘I thought you must be too young to be his brother – more likely his nephew.’
‘Quite right. I’m not Bithel VC’s brother.’
‘You are his nephew?’
‘I never said so, did I? But don’t let’s talk any more about that. There was something else I wanted to ask you. Did they say anything about games?’
‘What sort of games?’
‘Did they say I played any special game?’
‘There was some talk of your having played rugger for Wales.’
Bithel groaned.
‘There was talk of that?’ he asked, as if to make sure he had heard right.
‘Yes.’
‘I knew there’d been a misunderstanding,’ he said.
‘What about?’
‘Why, about my playing football – about rugger. You know what it is when you’ve had a few drinks. Very easy to give a wrong impression. I must have done that when I phoned that officer dealing with TA Reservists. Talked too much about local matters, sport, other people of the name of Bithel and so on.’
‘So the VC is no relation, and you didn’t play rugger for Wales?’
‘I wouldn’t go so far as to say he was no relation. Never know who you may be related to in this part of the world. He’s not a brother or uncle anyway. I must have managed to mislead that fellow completely if he got that idea into his head. He didn’t sound very bright on the phone. I thought so at the time. One of these old dug-outs, I suppose. Colonel Blimp type. But it isn’t Bithel VC who worries me so much. It’s this rugger misunderstanding.’
‘How did it arise?’
‘God knows. Something misheard on the phone too, I should think. I believe there was a merchant called Bithel in the Welsh Fifteen one year. Perhaps there was a Bithel who played cricket for Glamorgan and I’ve muddled it. One or the other, I’m sure. It was a few years back anyway. I must have mentioned it for some reason.’
‘It doesn’t really matter, does it?’
‘It would if we had to play rugger.’
‘That isn