with figurines in niches and Corinthian columns arrayed either side of the massive screen. An usherette showed them to their seats near the back of the stalls. Above them jutted the sweep of balcony and behind was a row of private boxes.
Andrew pulled out a couple of boiled sweets that he’d been keeping for the cinema and handed her one.
‘Goodness, you do know how to spoil a girl, don’t you, Lomax?’ she teased. ‘That couple in the box behind are gorging on chocolates.’
Andrew glanced round. A man in civvies was saying something to make his blonde-haired companion laugh.
Andrew said dryly, ‘We’ll still be sucking on these when they’ve finished their chocolates.’
Something about the man seemed familiar. Andrew looked over his shoulder again but Felicity nudged him.
‘Don’t stare,’ she hissed. ‘They’ll think we envy them.’
Andrew grunted. ‘We do envy them.’
Then the lights went down and they both settled to watch the film.
Andrew thought the film a rather ridiculous parody of both the army and India, but still it unsettled him. The scenes of barren mountains, dusty plains and soldiers being drilled in the heat transported him back to his boyhood home.
At the intermission, he lit up a cigarette. Surreptitiously, he glanced around to look at the man in the box again. He was definitely familiar. Had he seen him in Ebbsmouth before?
Felicity leaned closer and whispered, ‘Why do you keep looking at that couple behind? Do you know them?’
Andrew shrugged. ‘I’m sure I’ve seen the man before.’
‘He’s rather a dish.’ Felicity smirked. ‘But I still prefer you.’
Soon the second half of the film was beginning and Andrew put the man from his mind. He surrendered to the slapstick and melodrama as the film reached its climax, and found himself unexpectedly moved by the quasi-tragic ending. He recognised the comradeship of the British soldiers and felt a pang for the places of his childhood.
‘It was filmed in America, you know,’ Felicity said, as the lights went up. ‘Did it look anything like the Khyber Pass?’
‘It looked a bit like the North West Frontier from what I remember,’ admitted Andrew. ‘Although I’ve only been once and I can’t have been older than five or six.’
They began to shuffle out of their row behind other cinemagoers. Andrew watched the couple in the box as they stood up. The man reached for a walking stick and moved stiffly towards the door. That’s when it struck him. Hugh Keating! It was the Irishman on the boat from ’33 whom Stella had been in love with. He was sure of it.
‘I do know that man,’ he told Felicity. ‘Come on, I’d like to catch him.’
He took her hand and they weaved their way through the slow-moving crowd. Back out in the stalls’ lounge, Andrew craned over heads to try and spot Hugh, but there was no sign. They filed out into the foyer.
‘Let’s just wait here for a few minutes,’ he said. ‘He might not have left yet.’
‘Can I have one of your ciggies, then?’ Felicity asked, already rummaging in the breast pocket of his uniform. She lit up.
A minute later, Andrew saw Hugh stepping into the foyer on his own, limping slightly and aided by his silver-topped cane. Andrew pushed across the crowded space and hailed him.
‘Mr Keating? Hello, Mr Keating!’
The man stopped and turned around.
Andrew reached him. ‘It is you, isn’t it? Hugh Keating.’
He smiled in bemusement. ‘It is. And you are?’
Andrew held out his hand. ‘Andrew Lomax. I was your cabin-mate on the SS Rajputana in 1933.’
‘Good heavens!’ Hugh stared in surprise, and then shook his hand vigorously. ‘Look at you, young Lomax! Tall as a tree and a soldier now, I see. How the devil are you?’
‘Very well, thanks.’ Andrew grinned. ‘I’m on leave in Ebbsmouth. I joined the Borderers. And what about you? Are you still with the Department of Agriculture in Baluchistan?’
Hugh whistled. ‘That seems a lifetime ago. No, I resigned from the service.’ He tapped his lame leg. ‘Never recovered from being shot at and didn’t think it fair to stay on when I couldn’t get about easily on horseback and do the job properly.’
‘Very honourable,’ Andrew said. ‘So what do you do now?’
‘I work for agents in Calcutta – McSween and Watson – selling agricultural supplies and the like. Not very glamorous, but they won’t take me in the forces.’ He gripped Andrew’s shoulder. ‘I envy you lads in uniform.’
‘You’re on furlough, then?’ Andrew asked.
‘No, it’s a work trip to our headquarters in Dundee,’ he explained. ‘But I’m not