Scorpion Sunset by Catrin Collier Page A

lines while real men engage in combat.’
    â€˜You insult Mr Downe, Major Cleck-Heaton.’ Peter rebuked. ‘He’s just returned from the front, where he distinguished himself.’
    Cleck-Heaton had headed for the mess as soon as he left the hospital. He’d spent the entire day drinking. Although not as sick as he would have liked his fellow officers to believe him to be, the brandies he’d downed had affected him more than they would have if hadn’t spent months subsisting on starvation rations in beleaguered Kut. ‘There’s no insult strong enough for a man who chooses to remain a civilian when his King and country are at war.’
    The silence that fell over the mess was intense, asphyxiating. The political officers remained on their feet.
    Perry intervened. ‘Major Cleck-Heaton is about to tender his apologies to Mr Downe, gentlemen. He was with me at Kut. We were only discharged from the hospital this morning.’
    A ripple of sympathy dispelled the silence.
    â€˜Major?’ Perry prompted.
    Cleck-Heaton stared belligerently at Perry. Perry returned his hard look.
    â€˜Apologies, Downe,’ Cleck-Heaton muttered after a silence that seemed interminable.
    â€˜Accepted, major.’ Michael nodded to Peter and they left the mess.
    Colonel Perry watched them walk out. ‘Smythe a major! Astonishing! I never saw him as a candidate for promotion when he was under my command. No military tradition among his people. His father – a nobody – was the first to take a commission in his family. The vicar in his Smythe’s parish had to get up a subscription to buy his uniform when his status as an officer’s orphan managed to get him a commission. And, to top it all Smythe married an American. A missionary type who lives in the Lansing Memorial.’
    â€˜Casualties were so high during the Relief Force’s attempts to reach Kut, brass have been forced to promote all sorts beyond their capabilities. I’ve heard Smythe tipped for a colonelcy. Something to do with the dispatches he brought out of Kut when he escaped, and his insistence on remaining with the Relief Force against the advice of medics.’ Reggie failed to keep the envy from his voice.
    â€˜I’ve heard it all now. Smythe! That pathetic little subaltern is on his way to a colonelcy.’
    â€˜They gave Harry Downe one,’ Cleck-Heaton reminded them bitterly.
    Perry glanced at the political officers before lowering his voice. ‘Not in a regiment. Everyone knows political officers are unprincipled scoundrels …’
    Reggie risked a second interruption and turned the conversation back to the topic he wanted to pursue. ‘Have you seen your daughter since your return to Basra, Colonel Perry?’
    â€˜Maud?’ He looked blankly at Reggie. ‘Of course. She visited me in hospital as soon as she heard I was there. Told you, she’s in my bungalow.’
    â€˜She’s happy to keep house for you?’
    â€˜Couldn’t wait to move out of the American mission she’s lived in since Mason went upstream. Never realised until now, but it must be the same place Smythe’s wife lives. Silly girl, mixing with Americans. Maud wasn’t brought up that way. Should have known better than to go near them. Smythe’s wife must have persuaded her. Can’t understand why Maud allowed it. Mason’s a major, his rank would have secured her a bungalow or at least rooms in one shared with a fellow officer’s wife.’
    Reggie smiled. ‘I know exactly why she moved into the American mission, sir.’
    Colour flooded Perry’s cheeks at the perceived insult to his daughter. ‘Explain yourself, sir.’
    â€˜I’ve said more than I should have. My apologies, sir. It’s been a long day. I’m tired and have had more brandy than is good for me.’
    â€˜You maligned my daughter. I repeat my demand. Explain