8
__________
Prior had lost weight during his time in sick bay. Watching the light fall on to his face, Rivers noticed how sharp the cheekbones had become.
'Do you mind if I smoke?'
'No, go ahead.' Rivers pushed an ashtray across the desk.
The match flared behind Prior's cupped hands. 'First for three weeks,' he said. 'God, I feel dizzy.'
Rivers tried not to say, but said, 'It's not really a good idea with asthma, you know.'
'You think it might shorten my life? Do you know how long the average officer lasts in France?'
'Yes. Three months. You're not in France.'
Prior dragged on the cigarette and, momentarily, closed his eyes. He looked a bit like the boys you saw on street corners in the East End. That same air of knowing the price of everything. Rivers drew the file towards him. 'We left you in billets at Beauvois.'
'Yes. We were there, oh, I think about four days and then we were rushed back into the line. We attacked the morning of the night we moved up.'
'Date?'
'April the 23rd.'
Rivers looked up. It was unusual for Prior to be so accurate.
'St George's Day. The CO toasted him in the mess. I remember because it was so bloody stupid.'
'You were in the casualty clearing station on the...' He glanced at the file. '29th. So that leaves us with six days unaccounted for.'
'Yes, and I'm afraid I can't help you with any of them.'
'Do you remember the attack?'
'Yes. It was exactly like any other attack.'
Rivers waited. Prior looked so hostile that at first Rivers thought he would refuse to go on, but then he raised the cigarette to his lips, and said, 'All right. Your watch is brought back by a runner, having been synchronized at headquarters.' A long pause. 'You wait, you try to calm down anybody who's obviously shitting himself or on the verge of throwing up. You hope you won't do either of those things yourself. Then you start the count down: ten, nine, eight... so on. You blow the whistle. You climb the ladder. Then you double through a gap in the wire, lie flat, wait for everybody else to get out – those that are left, there's already quite a heavy toll – and then you stand up. And you start walking. Not at the double. Normal walking speed.' Prior started to smile. 'In a straight line. Across open country. In broad daylight. Towards a line of machineguns.' He shook his head. 'Oh, and of course you're being shelled all the way.'
'What did you feel?'
Prior tapped the ash off his cigarette. 'You always want to know what I felt.'
'Well, yes. You're describing this attack as if it were a – a slightly ridiculous event in –'
'Not "slightly". Slightly, I did not say.'
'All right, an extremely ridiculous event – in somebody else's life.'
'Perhaps that's how it felt.'
'Was it?' He gave Prior time to answer. 'I think you're capable of a great deal of detachment, but you'd have to be inhuman to be as detached as that.'
'All right. It felt...' Prior started to smile again. 'Sexy.'
Rivers raised a hand to his mouth.
'You see?' Prior said, pointing to the hand. 'You ask me how it felt and when I tell you, you don't believe me.'
