The Valley of Bones - Anthony Powell [5]
‘I expect you’re with one of the Big Five, Nick,’ he said.
‘Big five what?’
‘Why, banks, of course.’
‘I’m not in a bank.’
‘Oh, aren’t you. You’ll be the exception in our Battalion.’
‘Is that what most of the officers do?’
‘All but about three or four. Where do you work?’
‘London.’
Banks expunged from Kedward’s mind as a presumptive vocation, he showed little further curiosity as to how otherwise I might keep going.
‘What’s London like?’
‘Not bad.’
‘Don’t you ever get sick of living in such a big place?’
‘You do sometimes.’
‘I’ve been in London twice,’ Kedward said. ‘I’ve got an aunt who lives there – Croydon – and I stayed with her. I went up to the West End several times. The shops are bloody marvellous. I wouldn’t like to work there though.’
‘You get used to it.’
‘I don’t believe I would.’
‘Different people like different places.’
‘That’s true. I like it where I was born. That’s quite a long way from where we are now, but it’s not all that different. I believe you’d like it where my home is. Most of our officers come from round there. By the by, we were going to get another officer reinforcement yesterday, as well as yourself, but he never turned up.’
‘Emergency commission?’
‘No, Territorial Army Reserve.’
‘What’s he called?’
‘Bithel – brother of the VC. Wouldn’t it be great to win a VC.’
‘He must be years younger than his elder brother then. Bithel got his VC commanding one of the regular battalions in 1915 or I’ve heard my father speak of him. That Bithel must be in his sixties at least.’
‘Why shouldn’t he be much younger than his brother? This one played rugger for Wales once, I was told. That must be great too. But I think you’re right. This Bithel is not all that young. The CO was complaining about the age of the officers they are sending him. He said it was dreadful, you are much too old. Bithel will probably be even older than you.’
‘Not possible.’
‘You never know. Somebody said they thought he was thirty-seven. He couldn’t be as old as that, could he. If so, they’ll have to find him an administrative job after the Division moves.’
‘Are we moving?’
‘Quite soon, they say.’
‘Where?’
‘No one knows. It’s a secret, of course. Some say Scotland, some Northern Ireland. Rowland thinks it will be Egypt or India. Rowland always has these big ideas. It might be, of course. I hope we do go abroad. My dad was in this battalion in the last war and got sent to the Holy Land. He brought me back a prayer-book bound in wood from the Cedars of Lebanon. I wasn’t born then, of course, but he got the prayer-book for his son, if he had one. Of course that was if he didn’t get killed. He hadn’t even asked my mum to marry him then.’
‘Do you use it every Sunday?’
‘Not in the army. Not bloody likely. Somebody would pinch it. I want to hand it on to my own son, you see, when I have one. Are you engaged?’
‘I was once. I’m married as a consequence.’
‘Are you really. Well, I suppose you would be at your age. Yanto Breeze – that’s Rowland’s other Platoon Commander – is married now. The wedding was a month ago. Yanto’s nearly twenty-five, of course. What’s your wife’s name?’
‘Isobel.’
‘Is she in London?’
‘She’s living in the country with her sister. She’s waiting to have a baby.’
‘Oh, you are lucky,’ said Kedward, ‘I wonder whether it will be a daughter. I’d love a little daughter. I’m engaged. Would you like me to show you a photograph of my fiancée?’
‘Very much.’
Kedward unbuttoned the breast-pocket of his tunic. He took out a wallet from one of the compartments of which he extracted a snapshot. This he handed over. Much worn by constant affectionate reference, the features of the subject, recognisably the likeness of a girl, were otherwise all but effaced. I expressed appreciation.