A Long Way to Shiloh Read Free Page A

isn’t it? After all, I’ve been here now some years. People abroad think England is populated entirely by lords and ladies. I try to tell them you never meet any. And now I have.’
    ‘What do you do in London, Mr Namir?’
    ‘I am attached to the Embassy.’
    I said, ‘He touts for books for another well-known warrior, bibliophile and bore.’
    ‘Oh, that. It was only on one occasion. Don’t listen to him, Lady Longlegs.’ He’d have got her name accurately first time; he had this knack, the bastard, of shoving the conversation on two frequencies at once to indicate a certain interest in something that wasn’t the ostensible subject of it.
    ‘What occasion was that?’ She was smiling at him.
    ‘Oh, I was given once the task of rounding up some books for our then prime minister, Mr Ben-Gurion, a great book-collector . He was here on a flying visit.’
    I said, ‘Isn’t that what you’re supposed to be doing now?’
    He’d been going to say something else and he paused fractionally and said instead, ‘Yes. That’s right. Which reminds me, Caspar. I want to talk to you.’
    ‘Okay, I’ve got to pop off just now,’ Elizabeth said.
    I said, ‘Look, don’t go –’
    ‘I have to. Just for a minute.’
    ‘I want to see you.’
    ‘Right.’
    I watched her wend off.
    ‘She’s crazy for you,’ Uri said.
    ‘You know, you are getting to be an abnormally ubiquitous bastard.’
    ‘She’s crazy for something,’ Uri said.
    Elizabeth was just going out of the door and being rather animated with a philosophy don who’d draped himself round it.
    ‘I envy you up here,’ Uri said. ‘It’s a wonderful relationship. As a professor, my God – you’ll have whole herds of the young creatures at your disposal. When do you go?’
    I told him.
    ‘And what’s your schedule?’
    I told him that, too.
    ‘You don’t have anybody looking out the stuff for you?’
    ‘I’ve written off to tell them what I’m looking for. If staff is available, I suppose they’ll help.’
    ‘I mean professionally.’
    ‘The funds won’t stretch to that.’
    ‘What exactly is it you want?’
    He had a fair working knowledge of the literature, so I told him. I must have drunk a bit over the past few days. I heard my own voice echoing.
    ‘And which libraries do you expect to do best at?’
    It occurred to me as I talked that it wasn’t my voice echoing. It was just that I’d told him it all before. I’d told him it – when? – on Monday. Today was Thursday. I’d told him it at another gathering. He’d told me that he was sniffing out more books for Ben-Gurion. It was the reason I’d asked him tonight if he was here on business. He was looking at me gravely, the large en- brossed head clocking it up; all as before. He observed, exactly when it happened, my moment of recall.
    I said, ‘Uri, haven’t we been here before?’
    ‘I have something very interesting for you, Caspar.’
    ‘Books?’
    ‘I would like very much if you could keep Sunday free. This Sunday.’
    ‘I’m afraid I’m busy.’
    ‘Do you have to be, Caspar?’
    ‘I simply am.’
    ‘Free enough to make dates with Lady Lulu?’
    The extraordinary bastard had been listening.
    He said, ‘Caspar, don’t make any arrangements for Sunday. Please leave it free. I’ll call you. I’ll call you some time during the day.’
    ‘You do that,’ I said, and looked round.
    ‘She went,’ Uri said.
    ‘What?’
    ‘She went a few minutes ago. She waved. She saw you were busy.’
    He went himself a few minutes later; and within half an hour most of the others had gone, too.
    I stayed on, hooked by Birkett, and talked, of Greek and Hebrew hells.

3
    The following morning, early, found me regarding a couple of Alka-Seltzers fizzing in a glass. I regarded them from a seated position. I felt unwell. This followed. I had drunk too much. I had drunk too much too many nights. I had drunk more than anyone, both last night and other nights. There was a reason for