Short of Glory by Alan Judd Page A

foreign colleagues, friends and guests’ of what he called English humour. One piece was a
recording of Hoffnung’s speech to the Oxford Union which was so crackly that it was impossible to hear what was said and not easy to tell when it was finished. Everyone sat with
expressionless faces, except Sir Wilfrid who twice turned to Claire to say that it would do no good to play the record with a broken needle. In order to reply to him Claire had to bend her head to
his, on a level with her own knees, causing her skirt to creep up her thighs. She maintained her smile throughout.
    At the end of the records there was silence until the Japanese commercial attaché began to clap briskly, forcing nearly everyone else to join in.
    Philip next read a speech about how the origins of jazz were said by some experts to be found in nineteenth-century martial music and introduced Mr Johann Botha who was to demonstrate on the
piano. Mr Botha was a short, bespectacled, bearded man who bowed stiffly and unsmilingly, once to Sir Wilfrid and once to the audience. His spectacles glinted. The Japanese attaché again
stimulated applause. Mr Botha looked vainly for the piano stool and bowed again. Philip stepped back, leaving the floor to the pianist. Mr Botha made several silent expostulations. Claire jumped
from her chair and whispered to her husband, who looked with surprise at the piano and then at Mr Botha, who looked back indignantly, his hands clasped behind him. Claire put Philip’s chair
by the piano. Mr Botha sat with his back to the audience and his shoulders not far above the keyboard.
    Before Mr Botha could start the ambassador clapped several times, loudly and quite slowly. He told Claire he had enjoyed the comedy. Others joined in the clapping. Mr Botha turned in his seat
and bowed his head. He then played rousing martial tunes such as
Rule Britannia
and
The British Grenadiers
for about twenty minutes.
    When Philip announced that there would be a break the applause was genuine. Patrick tried to get near Joanna but such was the rush that there was no point in waiting. In the reception room two
black servants stood anxiously holding trays of drinks. He ignored them and made for the nearest peanut dish. He next found some crisps. The ambassador appeared, flanked by Clifford and Philip.
Patrick went in search of Joanna.
    He found her queuing with other women for one of the lavatories. Her grey eyes showed faint surprise when he stopped. For a moment he was almost reduced to complimenting her on her black jacket
and skirt but a happier inspiration came.
    ‘Is Jim getting you a drink?’
    She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. There’s another loo somewhere. He’s probably gone there.’
    ‘Would you like one?’
    ‘Red wine, please.’
    ‘Large?’ He was not aware that there was any choice and had asked only because he felt self-conscious before all the women.
    She smiled. ‘Very.’
    Back in the reception room people talked and drank with boisterous relief. They formed three camps roughly as before, but common adversity had brought about some mixing. Patrick lifted two
glasses of wine from a tray of four that a servant was taking to someone. He planned to intercept Joanna in the corridor so that they could talk away from the others.
    ‘Kind of you, Patrick, thank you.’ Sir Wilfrid took a glass from him. Clifford was about to take the other but Patrick held it closer. Sir Wilfrid waved his pipe whilst complimenting
Philip on the mime show at the start of the piano-playing. Takes an awful lot of rehearsal, that sort of thing.’
    Philip smiled awkwardly, caught Patrick’s eye and looked away. Clifford stared uncomprehendingly at the ambassador, then resentfully at Patrick’s wine. Sir Wilfrid said it was time
he did his bit of mixing and moved off towards the Lower African camp. Philip redirected a waiter towards the Lower Africans as Clifford was about to take a glass from him.
    Jim was talking to some Lower