The Charioteer by Mary Renault Read Free Book Online

across the locker to Reg Barker, who said, “Uh-huh,” and put it on. They always looked after each other’s on operation days.
    The Sister said, “Oh, and Nurse. I want Wilson moved out of the side ward for today, and Corporal Odell put in there when he comes back from the theater. He was very noisy coming round last time.” Two of the men exchanged grins and her back stiffened.
    “There,” said Reg Barker to Laurie when she had gone. “Put in solitary. That’ll learn you, Spud.”
    “Suits me,” said Laurie, who had had this joke in every way. “I’ll get a bit of sleep.”
    “Sleep! We know. Mind, now, I’ll be listening. Minute I hear a woman scream I’ll be there. You watch out, Spud, she might be more oncoming when she gets you alone.”
    “Comment? Pardon?” Laurie stifled a sigh. Charlot hated to miss anything. None of the nurses spoke French, so they had put Laurie next him to interpret. His father and three brothers had been killed by machine-gun fire in the boat after their fishing smack had been bombed. Charlot, the sole survivor, had been picked up unconscious, drifting with the corpses. He had been shot in the spine, and after three months and two operations was still in plaster from chest to hips. His legs were paralyzed; Major Ferguson thought that it was functional. So now Laurie explained to him what they had all been laughing at, as brightly as he could. It gave Charlot the chance to try out some of his English vocabulary; Laurie wasn’t the only one to give him lessons.
    “Now, boys,” said the Charge Nurse, “I don’t need to ask if that was a dirty one; I can tell by the sound. Odell, have you used the bottle yet?”
    “I can go through, Nurse; I’ll look after the leg.”
    “Don’t you dare. If you think we’ve got time to prep you again at the last minute. Ask for one when you have your injection.”
    “I was wondering about my X-rays, they don’t seem to be here.”
    “Oh, yes they are, they’re on the desk. I know what you are, reading your notes and getting half-baked ideas. Shakespeare says a little knowledge is a dangerous thing.”
    “Sorry, Nurse.”
    “That put you in your place,” said Reg. “Time you was kipping down, ain’t it? They going to fix the knee so you can bend it, this time?”
    “I can now, a bit.”
    “Ah,” said Reg with foggy tact. He changed the subject. “You was supposed to be done first. They ought to be more careful, drawing it out how they do.”
    “Oh, well. When we were lying out on the beach we wouldn’t have minded swapping for this.”
    Reg replied in the conventional way, which was to mill over a number of old grievances. No one discussed what he had really felt; they took it out on other things. They were an extremely touchy society, but most of them were aware of it.
    What with one thing and another, Laurie felt as touchy as anyone that morning; but he was anxious not to let it loose on Reg, to whom he was bound in a kind of blood-brotherhood. The stretcher party had dumped them side by side on the Dunkirk beach, and they had had time to get used to one another. Laurie had had two shots of morphia inside an hour, which removed apprehension to some extent but seemed hardly to touch the pain; so it had sometimes been a relief to know that Reg was then totally blind. The bomb which had splintered his arm had mildly concussed him, and his eyelids had swelled and stuck together. He was sure he had lost his eyes, and, the concussion having destroyed his inhibitions, begged loudly to have a bullet put through his head. It was months since either of them had referred to this even obliquely; but now Reg said, “I wonder I didn’t do you when you shoved me eyes open. If I could have found me rifle I’d have done for you sure. Set me mind at rest, though, that’s a fact.”
    “I’m starting to forget half of it now. All for the best.”
    “Never been able to think how you moved that far.”
    “Dope. Doped to the