THREE MEN KEEP A DATE

Auckland Star, Volume LXVII, Issue 297, 15 December 1936, Page 19

THREE MEN KEEP A DATE

OLIVER Randall, handing over his hat and coat, glanced eagerly rounu the crowded supper room at Ferosclii's. Some places move with the times, 01 find themselves removed by those saint processes. Not Ferosclii's! Essentially the same old haunt of the younger generation, the intellectual, the dissolute, the sporting crowd; the hot bed of all the impetuous ambition ol College and university, that started with such high-down hope and realised in ao many diverse ways, failure and despair not being unknown. The little table in the alcove was ah yet unappropriated, and threading hi* way through the noisy crowd of revellc-rs, he sat down, automatically turning up the other chairs as he did so. A waiter appeared at his elbow. "You will excuse me, sir. I'm sorry, but this table is reserved. Every week, Sir, ..." He broke off abruptly as the other looked up. i, "I, or rather, we, booked this table 20 years ago!" The disarming smile that accompanied this determined statement robbed it of any suggestion of aggressiveness. "Very good, sir. I will explain to the others. I am sure they will understand." He handed over the menu. Oliver pulled out a leather wallet, and after a. few seconds' search found what lie wanted. A small and infinitely grimy fragment of paper. He laid it on the tabic, smoothing it out carefully. _ "This is the menu. I'm afraid it's hardly legible. It was made out when we were here last." ♦ * • # He read aloud, pausing now and again, unable to decipher the cramped handwriting. The last item proved qui l :* beyond his powers and lie leaned back, eyes half shut, as though searching his memory for some half-forgotten scene that would aid the failing faculty. The voice of the waiter broke in on his thoughts. "Would it be lager, sir. Iced lager?'' "Of course, of course. How the deuce could I have forgotten that? Why it's the one thing that seems to bring it ali back." He turned to the waiter, looking at him curiously. "But how the devil did you know? I'll swear you weren't here then." The latter wrote diligently on his pad as he replied. "No, sir . . . No, but the iced lager at this house has been famous for years, though it's not as much in demana ad it used to be." He picked up a loaded ashtray and then glanced at the up turned chairs: "It \ull be for . . . three, sir Oliver nodded. "Yes, and 1 think it would be as well to give the others at least an hour's grace. 11l the meantime you might bring me a whisky and soda, please." Oliver had a strong suspicion that he was making a fool of himself, lt certainly was rather a tall order to cxpec* three young men to keep an appoint ment, made on the spur ol the moment, a generation ago. A generation ago! Good lord, it didn't seem possible. Why some of these voting bloods here to-night weren t even shortcoated some not even born. lie drummed nervously on the table. Ridiculous to have given the order then at least he might nave scrambled out of it more or less gracefully. Half an hour passed. 'J'he door opened again. This time to admit a middle-aged man, inclined to stoutness and peering through bulbous glasses. Divesting himself of his greatcoat, he threw his hands out to his sides, lingers turned up, as though ii. vain endeavour to rescue bin shirt cutis-

Something in that slight gestui-j oddly stirred Oliver's memory, lie half rose from his chair, only to sit d-->«n again hurriedly. Impossible that this could be the famous 'Hugger Blue, the fearless lieu tenant, the crack shot ot the regiment, the perpetrator of a hundred mad esca pades that nearly ended his 'varifet; career and doubtless woili. have done, had uft the war intervi ned. 111 a few strides lie crossed the adjoining space and was shaking him heartily by the hand. "Hello, Mae, old man! You've not forgotten, then." The newcomer chuckled, shaking his head. "You bet I haven't. And how are vou, Oliver. You know I damned li you've changed a scrap. I'd recognise you streets away, or rather I shouldn * I couldn't see you." He glanced towards their table. "Dick's not turned up yet." Oliver laughed as they made their wa.J back to the alcove. "No, not yet. As a matter of fact I got here about three quarters of an hour ago, and being an optimistic devil, gave the order for the three of us. I gave you an hour's grace, but I'd almost given up hope." Oliver called the waiter over as the*

sat down. "What are you having. Mac? "Just a drop of Scotch."

Oliver ordered the drinks, then looked at his watch: "We'll wait a bit Mac. Talk in" of lifts, do you remember the last 'lift' we had with Dick the night before we joined up? Driving round and round Trafalgar .Square till the polio* threatened to^ ( run us in. They would, if they hadn't been darned sine we were going to enlist!" "Dick alwavs was more than a bit mad. A queer"devil in a lot of ways but damned clever. Used to edit the college 'rag.' you remember. Turned out some good stuff, too." "You know, Mac," said Oliver, it doesn't seem possible we were ever like that rowdy crowd over there. I suppose we've changed. We're staid, middle-aged, settled down. . . By the way, Mac, are you married?" "Married!" He burst out laughing, and it was seconds before he could answer. He leaned over the table eonfidentally. "Do you know what I first looked for when I came into this den? I'll tell you. I half expected I'd run up against my boy here. He's very nearly as old as you and I were that last night we came. *You see, I was married on my first leave." Oliver eyed him enviously "Lucky devil!" "I don't know, quite. Not that 1 want you to think I'm not the luckiest chap on earth. She's the most wonderful wife a man could wish for. But sometimes, when I think of the old days. . . Do you remember how we settled the affairs of nations and our own destinies off-hand. You're famous You're reached your goal. The only one as far as we know. Of course it was the war."

"How much difference did it really make?"

(SHORT STORT.)

By EDGAR GIBBONS-POLE

Mac considered some minutea before replying.

"It depended 011 tlie man. Take Dick for one. I was with him during those first few months, and I think lie saw things during that short time that killed his soul. He started to write. He spoke of getting at the very heart of things out there. Told me that if he ever came back he'd write as no man had ever written before. He was an observant kind of chap and had an imagination. A heaven-sent gift 1 thought, till I was out there." Ha paused and then added as an afterthought, "Afti r those first few months he wrote no more." The other nodded understandmgly. "I know." The talk drifted into other channels. * .* * * Mac looked at his watch and then at Oliver. The latter nodded 111 agreement and signalled to the waiter. It was over supper that Oliver made the discovery. "You know, Mac, I've only just realised why you insisted that if there was another war to-morrow, there would be just the same wild, reckless enthusiasm that there was before." Man vouchsafed 210 reply, and the meal continued for a while in silence. Habits die slowly. There was one more thing they had done 011 that memorable night, before they went out in hot haste to the hell that awaited them. It was the sign of their new allegiance, and they were proud of it. They were now and yet— With his hand on his pipe, Mac paused and looked at Oliver. "If Dick had been here wo should have done it." Oliver reluctantly admitted the fact. "You are the senior officer." They rose slowly and Mac pushed the empty chair from the table. Addressing first the empty chair and then his brother officer, 110 proposed the toast. "Gentlemen, the King!" "The King," echoed Oliver. And in the far corner, the waiter, a glass of beer in a hand that shook visibly, stood smartly to attention and drank the toast alone, in that pride that alienated him from that empty chair. "The King!"