The Nice Bloke by Catherine Cookson CATHERINE COOK SON BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF THE MALL EN SERIES AND MANY OTHER COMPELLING NOVELS. MORE THAN 22,000. 000 COPIES OF HER BOOKS SOLD IN CORGI. UK. 1. New Zealand. $5. 50 Catherine Cookson was born in East Jarrow and the place of her birth provides the background she so vividly creates in many of her novels. Although acclaimed as a regional writer--her novel THE ROUND TOWER won the Winifred Holtby Award for the best regional novel of 1968--her readership spreads throughout the world. Her work has been translated into twelve languages and Corgi alone has over 20,000,000 copies of her novels in print, including those written under the name of Catherine Marchant. Mrs. Cookson was born the illegitimate daughter of a poverty-stricken woman, Kate, whom she believed to be her older sister. Catherine began work in service but eventually moved South to Hastings where she met and married a local grammar school master. At the age of forty she began writing with great success about the lives of the working class people of the North-East with whom she had grown up, including her intriguing autobiography, OUR KATE. More recently THE CINDER PATH has established her position as one of the most popular of contemporary women novelists. Mrs. Cookson now lives in Northumberland, overlooking the Tyne. KATIE MULHOLLAND KATE HANNIGAN THE ROUND TOWER FEN WICK HOUSES THE FIFTEEN STREETS MAGGIE ROWAN THE LONG CORRIDOR THE UNBAITED TRAP COLOUR BLIND THE MENAGERIE THE BLIND MILLER FANNY McBRIDE THE GLASS VIRGIN ROONEY THE INVITATION THE DWELLING PLACE FEATHERS IN THE FIRE OUR KATE PURE AS THE LILY THE INVISIBLE CORD THE GAMBLING MAN THE TIDE OF LIFE THE GIRL THE CINDER PATH THE MAN WHO CRIED TELLY TROTTER The "Mary Ann' series A GRAND MAN THE LORD AND MARY ANN THE DEVIL AND MARY ANN LOVE AND MARY ANN LIFE AND MARY ANN MARRIAGE AND MARY ANN MARY ANN'S ANGELS MARY ANN AND BILL The "Mallen' series THE MALL EN STREAK THE MALL EN GIRL THE MALL EN LITTER By Catherine Cookson as Catherine Marchant HOUSE OF MEN THE FEN TIGER HERITAGE OF POLLY MISS MARTHA MARY CRAWFORD THE IRON FACADE THE SLOW AWAKENING and published by Corgi Books Catherine Cookson CORGS BOOKS A DIVISION OF TRANS WORLD PUBLISHERS LTD THE NICE BLOKE A CORGI BOOK 0 552'll365 4 Originally published in Great Britain by Macdonald & Co. (Publishers) Ltd. PRINTING mS TORY Macdonald edition published 1969 Corgi edition published 1972 Corgi edition reprinted 1973 (twice) Corgi edition reprinted 1974 Corgi edition reprinted 1975 Corgi edition reprinted 1976 Corgi edition reprinted 1977 Corgi edition reprinted 1978 (twice) Corgi edition reissued 1979 Corgi edition reprinted 1980 Corgi edition reprinted Copyright Catherine Cookson, 1969 Conditions of Sale 1: This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on. the subsequent purchaser. 2: This book is sold subject to the Standard Conditions of Sale of Net Books and may not be re-sold in the U. K. below the net price fixed by the publishers for the book. This book is set in Granjon 10/11 pt. Corgi Books are published by Transworld Publishers, Ltd. " Century House, 61-63 Uxbridge Road, Baling, London W5 5SA. Made and printed in the United States of America by Arcata Graphics, Buffalo, New York. For Mr. R. G. Wilson Another, nice bloke CONTENTS BOOK ONB Harry Blenheim Page ii book two Robbie Dunn Page 141 BOOK THREE The Outcome Page 213 Dig in the soil of a quiet man and you unearth the savage. BOOK ONE HARRY BLENHEIM He sat encased in frozen terror aware of people passing him and the looks they cast on him as they went into the Court. The terror had been rising in him since he awoke at four o'clock this morning. It had brought him out in sweats, hot and blush- making like a woman in the menopause; it had 'dropped him into baths of cold perspiration where his teeth chattered and he had to grip the bed head to steady himself. But now all his fear was at a standstill; it had frozen during this waiting period and he was grateful even for this respite because, gathering force as it had done since he entered the Court-house, he knew that if it rose just a little further he would go berserk. His eyes unblinking, he stared before him and again asked himself why he was here, how had it come about? How had it happened to him, Harry Blenheim? He was a nice man, was Harry Blenheim. He didn't have to be big-headed to know that was the general opinion of him. It had been his own opinion up till a few months ago, at which time he had been full of selfrespect. When he looked in the mirror he liked what he saw; not exactly a good-looking fellow, but, as his wife had once said in her far back loving, laughing days, his was a face full of character, with the kindest brown eyes God ever made. And then there was his voice, deep, what they called musical. And it was musical, because he could sing. It was the singing that had made him a successful business man. It was odd when you came to think about it, but it was true. They had taken him out of the Sunday school and put him in the choir because of his voice, and in the choir he had chummed up with Tony Rippon, and that was something, because the Rippons were When his voice broke, it broke well and he became a tenor. It was after he had sung solo with the church choir on the television that Esther Rippon had singled him out. He hadn't taken to her very much at rst and nothing might have come of it, but Tony died and she seemed inconsolable. Mr. and Mrs. Rippon hadn't been elated when he and Esther became engaged. He was working then as a junior clerk in the Rates Department and his prospects, although secure, were very, very dull. And that was how Mr. Rippon saw them too, and, as he said, something would have to be done. And he did something; he got him set on in the firm of Peamarsh, of which he ^ was then a junior director. < On the face of it Peamarsh's was a small wholesale chemists firm, but once Harry entered it he realised it had a finger in every pie in Fellburn. There were five directors, and they were all out to monopolise, most of all their youngest director, Mr. Rippon. Harry had never really liked Mr. Rippon, even before he married his daughter. As for Mrs. Rippon, he wholeheartedly: disliked her. He saw her as a psalm-singing, sanctimonious prig, and he only hoped Esther wouldn't take after her. Esther didn't; at least not altogether. '" Esther was nineteen and he was twenty when they were married and life, even with its pinpricks in the form of Mr. Rippon, promised good. And for sixteen years it kept its promise, more or less, until hell had opened and swallowed him. But hell had been a private hell. The public had only got wind of it a month ago when he had tried to kill his father- in-law. He hadn't quite succeeded. He wished he had. Knowing what the consequences would be, he still wished he had. He blinked once and looked around the wide corridor as ii in search of a friendly face. Even at this moment he would havq been glad to see Esther, but Esther was the last person he waj likely to see. Nor would he be likely to see his sons, John anq Terry. Then there was Gail . Oh I Oh, Gail. | He hadn't seen his daughter for weeks. Esther had packer her off somewhere, and she said that if it lay with her he would| never clap eyes on Gail again. KdLJLl^h oh no, not her father, that dirty old licentious beast . But that was exactly what Esther had called him, himself, wasn't it? Not a dirty old licentious beast, just a dirty licentious beast. Well, he wouldn't have that. He told her he wouldn't have that; what he had done didn't deserve that title. He had made a mistake as many a man before him. He had been weak, and he had paid for his weakness. He was paying for his weakness at this moment as he waited for his name to be called to be brought to justice for what, as one paper stated, was the worst case of its kind Fellburn had ever known. "It shouldn't be long now." He looked at his solicitor who had just moved away from the barrister. His face wasn't friendly. A month ago he had called him Peter and he had been Harry to him. They were both members of the Round Table; they played golf together, and it was they who saw to the organising, each Christmas, of some stunt for bringing in money for parcels for the old folks. They had been buddies, Peter Thompson and he, yet when the balloon went up Peter had been reluctant to have anything to do with the case. Nor had he any hope of leniency from the judge. Callow was one of the old school. He wasn't nicknamed Horsewhip Callow for nothing. At a talk he had given to the Round Table dinner he had indicated that a great deal of crime was due to people moving out of their class. "And don't let us forget it," he had said; 'there is as much class distinction today as there ever was, and rightly so. " As one member had remarked later, old Callow was a ghetto-minded old sod, and if he had his way no one would be let out of his district. Harry knew that he himself had been let out of his district so to speak. Let out from the bottom end of the town and into the top end, and that people were remembering. It didn't do, you see; leopards didn't change their spots. And it wasn't only the people from the top end who were remembering, those from the bottom end were, tod. That's what you got for being an upstart and trying to climb; they said, "But it wasn't really his fault, it was his grannie's. Mary O'Toole was a pusher. She had pushed him into the choir and then into the rate office, iioc cry nis luck. " But there were two from Bog's End who didn't think like this: Janet Dunn and her son, Robbie. And, as if his thoughts had conjured them up out of the air, be saw them standing before him. They said nothing, neither of them, they just stared at him. And he returned their stare, his gratitude for their presence making him speechless. When young Robbie put his hand out and touched his shoulder he wanted to grab it and hold it, as he would have held John's or Terry's had they been there with him at this moment, but he resisted the impulse and just continued to stare gratefully at Janet as her eyes asked, "How did this happen to you, how?" And as if she had spoken aloud he shook his head slowly. He didn't know, he didn't know, it was just one of those things that started at an office party. ONE It was snowing heavily when he reached home. At the top of the drive the house greeted him with lights in all the downstairs windows. He could see the ^Christmas tree in the drawing- room. It was' bare yet; they would start decorating it tomorrow. The snow excited him. He hoped it would lie over Christmas; it was some years since they had had a real white Christmas. He went to the boot and took out a largish parcel and wondered if he would get it into the house without Gail spotting him. When he opened the front door he was met by warmth and the sound of voices coming from different directions, Janet's from the kitchen raised in protest against Terry--he must be pinching something again--John's voice from somewhere in the cellar, yelling, "Mother! Mother! I can't find them. What did you say they were in? " Then Esther coming from the morning-room and looking towards him, and lifting her hand in greeting before she shouted down to the floor, " The old green box in the corner, the right hand side of the boiler. " He was about to slip into the cloakroom and deposit the parcel until he could take it upstairs when a cry from the landing brought his gaze upwards, and there stood Gail. She stood poised for a moment; then, taking the stairs two at a time, she was in front of him before he could escape. "Hold on! Hold on I You'll have me over, you big horse." As she reached up and kissed him she cried, "It's snowing, it's snowing and it's going to lie." "All right, all right. It's snowing and it's going to lie. Let me get my things off." "What's that?" she was whispering. "Coo. It's a big parcel. Who's it for? Me?" She dug her finger between her small i7 head quickly down to her he whispered, "Your mother." "Oh, what is it?" "I'm not telling you; you'll give the show away." "Honest, I won't, I won't." "It's a set of frying pans." "Oh, Dad I' She pushed him, and he drew her to the side of the curtain that bordered the passage leading to the loggia and, his voice low, he said, " Do you think you could get it up into the attic without her seeing? " "Leave it to me," she said. "You do an evasive tactic and leave it to me." He left it to her to see that she hid her own Christmas box. He could imagine her reactions on Christmas morning when she saw the fitted dressing case that she had admtred in Pomphreys months ago. Esther had been against him getting it. She considered it too sophisticated for a girl of fifteen, but he considered that Gail needed something sophisticated to help her over her present stage of plumpness. His daughter couldn't as yet see her plumpness as a prelude to beauty, but he could. He knew that in two or three years' time she'd be breath-taking. In a strange way she had inherited all the good points from Esther and himself; Esther's height, her pale complexion, his own brown eyes and his hair, but whereas his hair was a sandy nondescript colour, hers, though of the same thick strong texture, was a tawny shade. If he had been asked what made life worth living for him he would have answered airily, "Oh, a number of things'; his wife, his home, his family. But deep in his being, where no question penetrated, the truth lay, and the truth was that it was his daughter and she alone that answered that question. He had been proud when his first child was born and that a boy, but he had experienced no feeling of wonder until Gail had been put into his arms, and then it was as if a miracle had been performed for him alone. He had no longer believed in miracles. He had sung of miracles in choirs and concerts for years; miracles had been ten a penny. And then Gail happened to him. Esther had, at first, been jealous of his feeling for the child; then the next year Terry had come, and things balanced them18 selves out. She had John and lerry, and ne nad oali. sometimes he had felt guilty about his almost utter lack of feeling for the boys and had tried to rectify this by being more friendly towards them. Yet with the insight of children they had gauged the parental balance of his affections. That was why, he had surmised, they had teased and tormented Gail until she was able to stand up for herself. His wife came towards him now. "I thought it would hold you up," she said. "Another hour and the way it's coming down and it might have." When he shivered slightly she said, "Go in the drawing-room, the meal won't be more than fifteen minutes." As he went into the room John's voice came up through the floor again, bawling, "I can't find it, Mother." And he heard Esther exclaiming impatiently, "Leave it 1 Leave it! That'll be the day when you're able to find anything without it jumping up and hitting you." There was a big fire roaring in the open grate. The room looked comfortable, colourful and lived in. He sat down on the couch and stretched out his feet, and all of a sudden he had a longing for a drink. That was the only thing that was lacking in his home life . well, perhaps not the only thing, but something that became an irritation at a moment like this, a moment when he wanted to relax. But Esther was firm that no intoxicating drink of any kind should enter the house. This was one of the standards she had brought over from her mother. He often wondered how his father-in-law had managed over the years to cover up the smell of liquor on his breath. He didn't do it with scented cachous or mints; he must have had some special formula because he had come into this very house, his eyes hazy with whisky yet not a smell from him, and Esther had never suspected a thing. When her father was gay and he talked loudly and laughed a lot, she put it down to a business success. In a moment of weakness, once she had admitted that his manner embarrassed her at such times. He had, on this occasion, stared at her amazed, wondering how such an astute woman could be hoodwinked. But there were none so blind as those who did not wish to see. It would have been unthinkable Saturday night, then on Sunday walk with stately step up the aisle to his pew, not paid for any longer but definitely reserved for himself and his family. The sound of congenial commotion now came to him from the hall and he heard Esther say, "Why, Robbie, it's beautiful, but you shouldn't, you know you shouldn't," and a thick voice answered in airy tones. "Why shouldn't I, Mrs. Blenheim? Why shouldn't I?" "Harry 1' He hitched himself up straight on the couch and looked towards the door where Esther was entering the room carrying a square box. "Look what Robbie's brought me for a Christmas present. It's too much I'm telling him." He got to his feet as she came towards him and looked down at the highly polished foot square box inlaid with mother-of- pearl. "What is it?" he said. "A workbox. Look at it." She lifted the lid to disclose a tray of small compartments with inlaid tops and pearl knobs, holding strands of coloured silks and boot buttons studded with coloured glass. "It's got everything," she said. "Look!" She put it down on the couch and lifted out a tray to disclose beneath more compartments holding small bobbins of thread, needles, pins and all the accoutrements necessary for a Victorian lady's needlework. Harry lifted his eyes to the young man standing by Esther's side. "It's an exquisite job, Robbie," he said "Where did you pick it up?" "Oh, you know ... I get around." Robbie laughed and his thin parted lips showed a wide set of blunt looking white teeth. Harry laughed back into the face before him, the face that yelled out its inheritance. Some Jewish faces were distinguished only by the shape of the nose but every feature of Robbie Dunn's face proclaimed him to be a Jew. His skin was thick and of a slightly greasy texture; his eyes were round, keen looking and black; and his hair was thick, straight and black. His face was long and if it had followed its structural design would have ended in a pointed chin, but here it levelled itself out, leaving the jaw square, which in a subtle way emphasised the whole. jmjuuic uuiiii, ai mneieen, was only nve root six and a halt, but he was thick set, and if when he spoke, he had hunched his shoulders and stretched out his hands, the onlooker wouldn't have been surprised; but when he did speak his voice surprised most people because be spoke with the idiom of the workingclass Tynesider. Robbie Dunn, like most of his race, had a business head on his shoulders and was out to make money. He was both calculating and discerning. There were in him two strong and overpowering emotions: one was gratitude even for the smallest kindness, the other was hate for even the smallest insult. He had brought Esther Blenheim a present but it was out of gratitude to her husband, because it was Harry Blenheim who had helped his mother when she had needed help most, at the time when she was left without a husband, mother or father, all three being killed in an old car that should never have been on the road. And it was this man who had given him ten pounds to get started. He hadn't loaned him ten pounds, he had given it to him. Robbie now stood looking at Esther as she went into ecstasy over the box. Then his eyes came to rest again on Harry. He liked Harry Blenheim. He was a nice bloke, a good bloke was Harry Blenheim. If he told the truth he was the only one he liked out of the whole bunch; except perhaps Mrs. O'Toole, the grannie. He wondered why he didn't cotton on to Gail because she had always been nice to him, but he had the idea she was tarred with the same brush as her brothers. "It's a beautiful thing, Robbie," said Harry now, 'but as Mrs. Blenheim says'--he nodded towards Esther as he gave her her full title, which he always did when speaking of her to either Janet or Robbie because she had made this a stipulation of the association between them and the Dunns--'it' would bring a good few pounds today. It's real Victoriana. " "Dare say," said Robbie nonchalantly; 'but I only paid fifteen bob for it. Honest. " He nodded. "Fifteen bob in a village yon side of the river, down by Washington way you know. But I've cleaned it up a bit since I got it. There was a hairn playing with it on the steps of a house, pulling all the buttons out. I went straight up and knocked on the door and said, " That's too it. " Quick as lightning she said, " You'll not, you know. " "All right," I said, "fifteen." "I'll take it," she said, an' whipped it up out of the hairn's hands and set it screaming, and I didn't linger to do any comforting but made off with me box, and here it is. " They were all laughing now. Robbie could spin a yarn. He'd always had the power to make Harry laugh. His tales very seldom enhanced him, they were nearly always told against himself, which was clever Harry thought, as it tended to make people like him rather than otherwise. Harry had not the slightest doubt that Robbie would one day get where he wanted to go, and he would take pleasure in climbing the obstacles that were set up against him. And he was aware inwardly that Robbie hadn't to go any further than this house to find barricades being erected against him. But as he had told himself before, it was as well to ignore them. Young men garnered wisdom as they garnered years, at least he hoped that this would happen to his sons, especially his eldest. Gail came running into the room now, she rarely ever walked anywhere. She was saying loudly, "Gran's starving, and she's not the only one." Then she broke off and exclaimed, "Oh, hello, Robbie ... Coo 1 what's that ? Who's that for ?" "It's for me, madam," her mother said, inclining her head slowly towards her daughter. "And remember that." "Oh, isn't it sweet!" Gail was fingering the tiny bobbins of thread. "Did you bring it, Robbie?" For reply he jerked his head, and again she said, "It's lovely." Then looking at her mother she remarked bluntly, "You won't use it, Mother." Esther Blenheim closed her eyes and pressed her lips together and assumed annoyance before she said, "Well, if I don't use it. Miss, I can assure you you're not going to get the chance." "Oh!" Gail flounced now. "It'll be mine some day." She grinned at her father, and as her mother exclaimed on a high note, "Really!" Harry Blenheim burst out laughing again. It was at this moment that John came into the room. He stopped just within the door and surveyed the group; then said sullenly, "Gran's waiting." as his father was dark. All his features and colouring were those of his mother. His appearance in the room changed the whole attitude of the group, even Gail stopped her chattering. As Esther now said, "We're coming, we're coming," Robbie Dunn walked down the room towards John Blenheim, and the nearer he approached him the shorter he felt, but he kept his eyes on him, and the tall boy returned his stare. It wasn't until Robbie was at the room door that he said in a casual way and over his shoulder, "I'll wait for me mother if you don't mind, Mrs. Blenheim. It's pretty rough out; I had to leave the car on the main road." "You've got a car now?" Gall's voice was high as she pushed past him into the hall before confronting him squarely. He looked at her for a moment in silence, then said, "Aye, I've got a car." "You don't mean the van?" "No, not the van. I've still got the van, but I've got a car an' all. And I'll tell you something' else. " His glance now swept from Harry Blenheim to his wife, then to their son before it returned to Gail, and again he allowed a silence to elapse before delivering his news: "I've taken a shop the day, in Pine Street off the Market." The silence was engendered now by amazement. It went on and on until Harry Blenheim said quietly, "You've taken a shop in Pine Street, Robbie?" "Aye, Mr. Blenheim, a shop, I'm goin' in for antiques." Harry shook his head slowly. At fifteen Robbie Dunn had started with a fruit barrow. He had given him the money to get going. He had only kept on fruit for six months, then had taken a stall in the Market, a cheap-jack stall selling tawdry souvenirs and throw-outs from the warehouses, a stall at which John had once said only mentals or dim-wits would leave their money. When he was sixteen he had gone in for secondhand clothes. But that didn't last very long; there were too many at that game, at least in the Market. And then he had taken up the white elephant trade. Going round the jumble sales he had collected enough bric-a-brac to fill his stall and when it went in almost a day he said he knew that this was the line he had to He had made enough money on a Wednesday and a Saturday to provide him with a van and to pay three women on a Satur day to do the jumble sales. And now, here he was saying he had a car and he was taking a shop in Pine Street, and rents in Pine Street were to be reckoned with. He had to hand it to him, he had push. He only hoped that John, in his way, would show as much initiative when the time came. He dismissed the doubts that rose to the surface of his mind and said, "Does your mother know this?" "No." Robbie grinned now at Harry. "I was keepin' it for a sort of Christmas box for her, but ... but somehow it just came out." It came out, Harry knew, because he wanted John to hear it. It was odd about the feeling between his son and Janet's son. They had never hit it off from the first moments they had come into contact when Robbie was seven and John was five. The feeling between these two boys had worried him at tiroes, It was a feeling that was not the result of association; it had been from the beginning a feeling that stemmed from a deep elemental knowledge of an old hate, a hate that was beyond their consciousness, a hate that went far back down into the rock of time but which was held to the present by a gossamer thread of awareness racial awareness. Janet Dunn came into the hall now. She looked at Esther Blenheim and said, "Mrs. O'Toole's getting restless," and Esther said, "All right, Janet. And look, don't you stay, you get off with Robbie here. I suppose you've seen this wonderful present he's brought me." Without waiting for Janet's comment she went on laughingly, "I'll enlist the battalion to see to the dishes, But anyway, you get yourself off now. And Robbie wants to talk to you, he's got something to tell you. " Janet Dunn looked towards her son. Her eyebrows werci raised in enquiry, but her face held a blank look, giving nothing away. She said flatly, "That'll be the day when he hasn't got| something to tell me." The remark too was flat, seemingly1 holding no meaning except to convey that this mother was used' to her son's chatter; yet when they exchanged glances there passed between them a language that only they could read, and across the hall and through the door that led into the kitchen, and the Blenheim family went into the dining-room, there to be met by Mary O'Toale, Harry Blenheim's grandmother. "Is nobody hungry in this house except me?" "It won't be a minute," said Esther Blenheim, going down the length of the room to the hatch at the bottom. Taking her seat by her great-grandmother, Gail leant towards her and said under her breath, "You've got a tapeworm Gran." "Watch it 1 Watch it!" This remark sent Gail off into high peals of laughter and she leant her head against the old woman's arm and hung on to it. She loved her great Grannie O'Toole; she was more with it than some of her own pals. She said, "Watch it I Watch it 1' just like Tivvy on the I.T.V. said, " Watch it, pigeons 1 Watch it! " Oh, her grannie was wonderful. "Sit up and don't be silly." Her mother's voice, coming at her from behind, brought her upwards in her seat. "And make yourself useful; serve the potatoes. " As Gail went round the table with the vegetable dish Mary O'Toole looked at her grandson and said, "It's a terrible night; I hope you're not going out again. " "I'll have to, worse luck," Harry replied as he set about ladling the stew out of a casserole dish. "I've got to relieve Peter Thompson at eight o'clock." "What! you're going to do Father Christmas?" It was Terry speaking now, his voice cracking on a laugh. Terry was short and promised to have the build of his father, but his colouring was that of his mother and his brother, John, and what he- liked above all else was to raise a laugh. His father, looking at him, said heavily. "Why can't you keep your tongue quiet I' " You're not going to play Father Christmas on a night like this 1' Mrs. O'Toole's thin body was erect in her chair. "Are you mad? Standing around for hours like Johnny-cum-canny; you want your head lookin' ... Why don't you do something about it, Esther? He'll get his death, sitting in an office all day, then going and standing in the Market till God knows what hour ..." "Gran 1' The word fell deep, admonishing, and Mary O'Toole to her own inward one saying, "In the name of God will I ever get used to it." Five years she had been under this roof now and it had been pleasant enough, oh, she had to admit that. Esther tried her very best, her Christian best--aye, that was the word, her Christian best--but she only had to hear God, damn or blast used and then she came all over starchy. She had the power to make you feel like a child who had wet its knickers, and her at seventy-five, it wasn't right. One of these day's she'd let fly and she'd swear for ten minutes and not use the same word twice. Begod! if she didn't. Janet Dunn, putting the last dish on the table, said to Esther, "I'll be off then'; and Esther, smiling up at her, said, " All right, Janet. And thanks. Elsie should be back in the morning. If I don't see you again before the holidays, a Merry Christmas, Janet. " "Yes, yes, a Merry Christmas, Janet." They were nodding all round the table, all seemingly oblivious that Janet did not keep Christmas, but she answered, "The same to you. The same to you," before going out. "That was daft," said Terry. "What was?" asked Gail from across the table. "Wishing Janet a Merry Christmas." "I can't see what's daft about it," said his mother; 'we always do. " "That doesn't make it any the less daft." Terry had an impish grin on his face now and he turned it towards Gran O'Toole, saying, "Does it. Gran? " "I suppose not," said Mrs. O'Toole. "But it's courtesy like, and she's a nice woman is Janet Dunn, sensible. And have you noticed'--she swept her glance around the table--'she's got a presence about her, a dignity." "Some dignity I' They all looked at John now, and he finished putting some food in his mouth before ending, " Working at an all-night cafe. Some dignity. " "There's never anything undignified about honest work, John." There was a strong reprimand in his father's voice. "Honest 1 The Dunns? Huh I' John jerked his bead backwards. "That sharp-shooting little squirt, honest." JOHN! " .. "Well, he is. How's he come by a car so soon?" "By hard work." His father was leaning towards him over the edge of the table. "He's turned his hands to all kinds to make a living and worked from early dawn until late at night. You don't know you're born, so I don't want to hear any more of it." They were all looking at Harry now. It was rarely they heard him talk like this, rarely saw his face set as it was at the moment, and his manner aggressive. "Oh, I should have known better than say a word against him." John's voice was a mumble now. "Better to keep your mouth shut altogether about the Dunns." "You needn't keep your mouth shut about the Dunns. Talk as much as you like about them, only be fair. Robbie never had your chance but by the time he finishes ..." "Yes, yes, go on, say it," John's head was up, his chin out. "He'll get farther than me, that's what you mean isn't it? ... The dirty little Jew boy." His chair scraped back on the polished floor, and as he rose to his feet to leave the table Esther said, "Sit down, John, and have your meal and no more of it." Now also on his feet, Harry silenced her with a wave of his hand and, confronting his son, he said harshly, "You use that term ever again, my boy, and I don't care how old you are I'll give you a hiding. You understand?" John stared for a moment longer at his father, then swung round and dashed out of the room. As Harry resumed his seat a door banged overhead and they all started eating again, Harry and Esther, Gail and Terry slowly, but Gran O'Toole, munching rapidly, one mouthful hardly swallowed before she took on another, threw into the embarrassed quiet one of what Gail called "Gran's tactless bombs'. " If he had half the brains of Robbie," she said, 'and with the advantages he's had he wouldn't be going to the Technical School next year, he'd be working for one of those big Universities ..." As Harry stopped eating and bowed his head deeply on to his chest, Esther's knife and fork clattered to her plate at the same time as she exclaimed in hurt indignant tones, "There's one thing we can always rely on you tort-rran, and that's your loyalty to the family. " And on this she, too, left the table. "What have I said? What have I said?" Gran O'Toole looked from. Harry to Terry, and then to Gail, and Gail, as truthful as her great-grandmother answered, "The wrong thing as usual, Gran, the wrong thing, and at the wrong time." "I wish you a Merry Christmas, I wish you a Merry Christmas, I wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year." "Shut up! Shut up, boyl' Harry now barked at his younger son. "There's a time and place for everything." Terry applied himself again to his food. Gran was already applying herself, but Gail looked at her father, where he sat with his head resting on his hand staring down at his plate, and she thought, "He likes Robbie. He likes him better than he does John, I'm sure he does, and it isn't fair really." It was quarter-past eleven that same evening when Harry returned to the house. He felt frozen to the marrow in spite of the double whisky he'd had. He and Tom Vosey had paraded round the town centre for two and a half hours and collected the almighty sum of one pound, eight and threepence. Was it worth it? He could have put the one pound, eight and threepence into the fund and had the benefit of a night at home, and without the prospect of flu looming up before him. On the kitchen table there was a tray set, and on the stove a pan with some milk in it. He didn't want to be bothered making coffee--he would have welcomed it if it had been ready--all he wanted was to climb into bed and get warm, but he reminded himself he'd had whisky and it would be on his breath even though a half-hour had elapsed since he had drunk it, so he'd better make the coffee. The coffee made, he had just sat down by the side of the table when the kitchen door opened softly and Gail came tiptoeing in. "I heard the car," she whispered. "You're late. Did you get much?" "One pound, eight and threepence." "Oh, the mean beasts. You took over five pounds last Christmas Eve." "It was a fine night and people were out. Only mad dogs and tools would be out tonight. " "You're not a fool." She came close to him and rubbed her face against his cheek, and he put his arm around her and hugged her to his side, and when she sat on his knee her shortie nightdress and dressing gown rode almost up to her thighs. But she didn't pull them down, her mother wasn't here to chastise her. Looking at her father's weary face, she said, "It's been a rotten night." "I'm sorry; I'm to blame I suppose." "Half and half," she said candidly. "Thanks." "Wel, you said it. And, you know, you did go for John." "He shouldn't have used that term about Robbie." "But Robbie is a Jew, Dad." "There's nobody disputing that fact, but would you like to be called the dirty little Englisher. And what's more, when people like John use terms like that, what can you expect from other boys? It's about time that kind of thing was quashed, good and proper. People don't seem to learn ever." He shook his head slowly; then went on, "Robbie's a good boy. What he does he does for his mother. I think his one aim is to make enough so that she won't have to work." "But Janet likes work, she told me she does. I asked her only yesterday wasn't she tired after getting up at half-past five in the morning to get to the cafe, and she said no, she was used to it. I asked her wouldn't she like another job and she still said no; she said the hours had always been convenient, half-past six till half-past eleven. They were convenient when Robbie was at school so she could make his dinner. He would never stay for his dinner she said. She said the job gave her a lot of time to herself and she doesn't mind coming and helping mother when Elsie's off. So you see, she doesn't mind work." "That isn't the point, at least how Robbie sees it. Anyway, it's a pity it happened. And at Christmas too. It's bound to mar the atmosphere. Did he go out?" "Yes, he went to the club. But he was in before ten, and he wouldn't have any supper, not even a drink. Mother was worried, but Gran went in to him." "Gran?" Harry raised his eyebrows and jerked his head quickly 29 / as he said under his breath, "Gran should stay out of this; she's caused enough trouble. Trust Gran." "She didn't mean it; it just comes out. And you know, it's funny, she can manage John. He takes things from her that he wouldn't from anybody else and she tells him the truth to his face. If I was to say half the things to him that Gran does he'd scalp me." He said to her now, "How long has your mother been up?" and she answered, "Not long. She looked tired. Grandfather came in. He's not coming for Christmas after all, he's going to his friend in York. He said he's ill and wants to see him. It's the one he was in the Army with, I think. Mother was disappointed about that and all. He brought a lot of parcels. They're up in the attic." She hunched her shoulders and smiled at him. "Come on," he said, tapping her leg. "To bed." She walked to the end of the table, then turning and looking at him where he was putting the tray on the draining board she asked, "What are you going to do about John? If it isn't cleared up he'll sulk all over the holidays and it'll be frightful. He can you know, I mean sulk for a long time." "You leave John to me. Go on, get yourself up." She made four tripping steps and came back to him and Singing her arms round his neck, she hugged and kissed him. Then in a manner that was individually hers she drooped her head to one side and smiled gently into his face and whispered, "You're nice, Mr. Blenheim. As a certain Gran O'Toole would say, you're a nice bloke." "Go on with you." He rapped her buttocks smartly once and she ran towards the door her hands on her bottom. Then again hunching her shoulders, she adopted a stealthy attitude and crept out into the hall. Esther was sitting up in bed reading when he entered the bedroom. She didn't put down her book but looked over the top of it as she said, "You're late." "Yes." Dutifully she now asked, "How did it go?" "One pound, eight and threepence." "One pound, eight and threepence!" She clicked her tongue "Yes." He began to undress, and she said nothing more until he was in his pyjamas and standing by the side of his bed. She laid down her book then and asked, almost in the same words as Gail had done, "What are you going to do about John?" He had a sudden and unusual desire to turn on her and cry, "I'm going to let him get cold in the grease he got hot in," but that would mean that her face would tighten, then her eyes would take on that hurt look, and when she spoke there'd be that slight tremor at the end of her words, which indicated the effort she was making to remain calm. Esther laid great stock on remaining calm. All the books she read, especially last thing at night, were to aid calmness. Waldo Trine's "In Tune with the Infinite* was her second Bible. Daily she imbibed its philosophy. He had once said to her, jokingly, " I bet you could repeat that book backwards," and she had taken his remark as censure. His thoughts darting off at a resentful tangent now, he said to himself, 'she even took the damn book on her honeymoon, and the second night she sat up reading it. " He shook his head at himself. He was tired, weary. That business with John had upset him, together with the lack of Christmas spirit emanating from the citizens of Fellburn. It was ludicrous, but if he hadn't stood outside each of the three pubs that lined the Market Square it would have been three and threepence he would have collected, not one pound eight and threepence. So much for Christian charity. God The felt tired and irritable, all at cross purposes with everything. It wasn't only the business of John, he had felt off colour lately. Some of the joy had gone out of life; there was a sameness about it. Why? Oh well, it was his age he supposed. They all said it happened to you as you neared forty. Looking at it squarely he'd had a long run for his money. He'd known contentment for years, and that was taking into account the frustrations of the bedroom too. He glanced now at Esther. She was looking at him. Her fair hair was smooth' and shining. She hadn't a wrinkle on her skin. She didn't look thirty-seven, she didn't look the mother of three children. She was wearing a pink brushed-nylon nightdress; on someone else, like Gail, it would have looked cosy, cuddly, but on Esther it only looked warm and sensible. as uc saiu unaer nis Dream, "-n. >. >-> 1. 1. 1^111. An engagement ring in that box, he bet; likely belonging to the tall blonde. Miss Rice, wasn't it. Yes, Miss Rice. Well, he hoped she'd keep house better than she took down dictation. He'd had her once when Ada was off sick. Which reminded him; he hoped Ada was in this morning. Although there wouldn't be much work done on the premises today, he had one or two things he wanted to get off, but if that cold of hers hadn't eased she would have likely taken his advice and stayed in bed. She had. His office was empty when he entered and the door to the little cubby-hole which was his private secretary's domain was closed. It was always open for the first half-hour of the day while she bustled backwards and forwards from his desk to hers. He had hardly gofMiis coat off when the phone rang. He picked it up and heard his father-in-law's secretary, Miss Bate- man nicknamed The Paragon, say, "Mr. Blenheim?" "Yes." "This is Miss Bateman speaking." "Yes ?" he said again. "Miss Cole has phoned to say that her cold has got worse and she won't be in this morning." "Thank you, Miss Bateman." "I'll send someone from the pool." "Very well. Thank you." He almost added laughingly, "But don't let it be the blonde, she'll be very preoccupied today." But he was dealing with Miss Bateman, and so, instead, he said, "There's no hurry, I haven't got much to go off." "Very well, Mr. Blenheim." He put the phone down and walked to the window. It was coming down harder than ever now; he couldn't see the clock on Howard's, the jewellers, across the street. If it wasn't for the party this afternoon he would have those letters off and get home while the going was good, for if this kept up till dinner-time all cars, those that had got in, would be bogged down. He had just seated himself behind his desk when there came a tap on the door and he said, "Come in." And when he saw; Tim Whelan enter the room, he exclaimed on a surprised note, "Why, hello 1 What's brought you indoors without being dragged? Sit down, sit down." He pointed to a chair. Jim Whelan was known as the outside man. His title was appropriate, for most of his work dealt with estimates and valuations. He was not quite a chartered accountant, not having stayed the course long enough to pass his exams; he was not quite an estate agent and valuer, having no private business of his own; but he was a bit of both, and a number of other things besides. He had been with Peamarsh's for thirty years and Harry had the idea that the longer he stayed the less he liked it. As he had once said to Harry, "It was all right when they stuck to their own line but now you don't know where you are." Recently he had been dangerously loud in his condemnation of the firm when they had spread out another tentacle and embraced the building trade. Acting as middle men, they secured contracts, then passed them on, raking off a healthy percentage in the process. "Something on your mind, Jim?" "Yes, there is." Jim Whelan settled himself opposite Harry, then leaned forward and said, "You remember about two months ago I did an estimate on that job for Halliday, the man who took over Benson's garage down Cromwell Road?" "Yes, yes, of course I remember; I dealt with it. It went through here." "Do you remember what the price was, the one I quoted?" "Let me see ... well, I can't say offhand, but just a minute, I can get it for you in a tick." As he made to get up Whelan said, "You needn't, only to confirm it. It was six thousand, five hundred for having the garage extended, the car park made, ladies room put up and so on." Harry screwed up his eyes before saying, "That's right. But what about it?" "Then why was it raised ?" "Raised?" Again Harry was screwing up his eyes. "To my knowledge it's never even been confirmed, I mean by Halliday ... Wait a minute." He got up quickly and went to a cabinet by the side of the window and, opening a drawer, he flicked through some files; then pulling out a folio he said, "Here it is, a copy of the estimaic, sia inuwi. u^ ^vA ^ni^iv. "Did you send that out?" "No, I don't send them from here, not now, they go from the next floor, Rippon's office. It's a new arrangement, since they started on the buildings and contracts." "Well, look at these figures, will you?" Jim Whelan now handed a sheet of paper across to Harry. "I've taken them letter for letter from the correspondence that was sent to Halliday. The typist there's my niece. We got talking and this is what came out of it. " Harry looked down at the paper in his hand and read: Teamarsh's estimate to Halliday for work on garage, etc. " seven thousand two hundred and fifty pounds. Lovell's estimate to Halliday for work on garage, eight thousand pounds." Harry stared at Jim Whelan and said slowly, "Lovell's? What's Lovell's got to do with this? We only took them over a month ago. We haven't started doing anything under their name yet, I mean nothing new, we're only finishing off the jobs that were already in hand, at least the contractors are. What does it mean?" "It means that somebody sent an estimate from the firm of Peamarsh to Halliday quoting in the first place seven hundred and fifty pounds more than the reasonable price, and at the same time they've answered Halliday's letter to Lovell's firm asking for an estimate from them too. How was the poor bugger to know that Lovell's was Peamarsh's and some clever Jack was working off one against' the other on him?" "I can't believe it. And the risk I' " Risk. What do they care about risk when there's lucre involved? They were out to show how much cheaper Peamarsh's j could do _ the job and at seven hundred and fifty above, what ( I put in at that. And my estimate of six thousand five hundred ^ was leaving them a warm profit, I can tell you. " Harry looked grimly down- on the figures on the paper; then drawing in a deep breath he said, "Leave this to me, will you " Yes, I'll leave it to you, Harry. But mind you, I want this straightened out; I don't like to see people taken for double suckers. Single suckers yes, it's happening every day, but this is a bit much. " "I'll see to it right away, Jim." "Will you give me a ring?" "I'll give you a ring." "So long. Harry." Jim Whelan got up and made for the door. And he had reached it before Harry said, "So long, Jim." When he was alone again, Harry sat staring down on the evidence of jiggery-pokery. He didn't need to ask himself whose work this was, he knew. He had a father-in-law with what was called a business head. But business head be damned, he wasn't going to get away with this. For his own peace of mind he must see that he didn't. Over the years he had closed his eyes to one piece of chicanery after another, but there was a limit. He took the lift to the top floor and stepped straight on to a thick pile, cherry-coloured carpet. This was Peamarsh's directors' sanctum. There was a wide oak-panelled corridor with two doors on either side. The name plates on the doors said: "Mr. Arthur McMullan'; " Mr. Tom Vosey'; "Mr. Frank Noland'; the fourth door said " Gentlemen'. The corridor opened into a hallway studded with more doors. These were named: "Mr. Graham Hall'; " Mr. Peter Waters'; "Mr. David Rippon'. Another door had on it the simple statement " Boardroom'. He thrust open the door marked "Rippon'. Miss Bateman was sitting behind her desk. She looked up and said, " Oh, Mr. Blenheim, I was just going to ring the pool. " "Oh, that's all right, Miss Bateman. As I said there's no hurry, I just want a word with Mr. Rippon." "He was on the 'phone a moment ago. I'll see if he's free." She pressed a 'button and listened, and said, "He's still on but I don't suppose he'll be a minute. Take a seat, Mr. Blenheim." It was all very formal; it was always formal with Miss Bateman. He could call his own secretary Ada, but he would never dream of calling Miss Bateman, Marie. Miss Bateman was a power in Peamarsh's. Before the building had been reconstructed and the top floor given over to the directors Miss Bateman had run the staff, and this included the men in the packing department, and now, not because she ner domain of power reached only to the floor below, where she continued to wield it firmly; except over Ada Cole, who, having worked in Peamarsh's longer than Miss Bateman, would have none of it. Harry had always been vaguely surprised that his own able but timid secretary refused to be pushed around by The Paragon. Marie Bateman was in her early forties. She was of medium height and thin, and from her fair hair to her long narrow feet she was perfectly groomed. Altogether she gave off a kind of restrained elegance, which deceived you into thinking she could at one time have been pretty. Looking at her now. Harry understood why she intimidated most people. But no matter how off-putting her manner, she was a good business woman and secretary, or else his demanding father-in-law would never have kept her on. "He's finished now." "Thanks." He tapped on the communicating door and went in to Dave Rippon's office. " "Hello there. I expected you." Harry paused in the middle of the room and Dave Rippon added, "I knew Esther wouldn't be able to keep that." "Keep what?" "Keep what! The car, of course. I told her not to mention it until after the holidays, but that's women for you, same all over. Sit down, sit down. Well what do you think? Do you want it?" "This is the first I've heard of it. You mean your car ?" "Oh, so she didn't tell you then." Dave Rippon leant back in his high-backed, black swivel chair and laughed. It was a small sound coming from so large a man. Then he passed his hand over his forehead and on to his thick greying hair before he said, "Well, I'm ready for a change, it's over two years. Esther said you liked it." "Yes ... yes I like it." His tone held no enthusiasm. "But you always put your old one in for exchange, don't you?" "Usually. But that one of yours must be dropping to. bits." "It's a good car, it's only five years old." "Only five 1' The voice was scornful. "It might as well be fifty. Anyway there it is, it's up to you. As you know, it cost me nearly two thousand. They'll give me fourteen hundred for it or more but I'll let you have it for twelve fifty. It's up to you. " Harry looked at his father-in-law, at his round fleshy face, at his round pale blue eyes, which you could have called a sailor's eyes, far-seeing; and the description was certainly true in his father-in-law's case for Dave Rippon was far-seeing where Dave Rippon was concerned. People said he was a handsome man, a fine figure of a man, a man you would never put fifty- five years to, fifty yes, even forty-five on some days. His body was big, thick and hard. He had been an athlete in his time and the effect was still with him in spite of his sly drinking, although that was showing now in a thickening above his belt. He had never liked his father-in-law, perhaps because he knew that everything Dave Rippon did for him was really for his daughter. He was where he was, he knew, because he had married Esther. This knowledge hadn't irked him during the first years of marriage, but latterly it had got under his skin, more so as he took his father-in-law's real measure. He knew for instance that his father-in-law couldn't make a straight deal if his life depended on it. Even about the car he had to be crooked. He wouldn't get fourteen hundred for it; it had only cost him eighteen hundred in the first place not two thousand. If he got twelve hundred he'd-be lucky, and that's what he wanted him to pay. Moreover the car wasn't two years old; by his reckoning it was three, nearer four. "I'm a fool for letting it go in any case." Harry blinked as his father-in-law leaned across the desk towards him. "I'm just going to get the same type, same colour in fact I think, but you know after a couple of years things start going. "Oh'--he leaned back again and napped his hand towards Harry--'that's bad business, isn't it? I'll have to look out, I'm slipping. Well, you know how she's been taken care of, there's nothing wrong with her really." Harry just stopped himself from saying, "No, you've only beaten the guts out of her." Dave Rippon waited for Harry to make some comment, and when none was forthcoming he blew his nose on a silk handkerchief before adopting his business attitude and saying, "Well, f it wasn't about the car, what brought you up on this the slack est morning of the year, for I don't expect there'll be two penn' orth of work done in the whole building today? " Harry swallowed, wetted his lips, then said, "I've come up about the Halliday estimates." There was a long pause before Dave Rippon spoke, and then he said one word, "Yes?" "Whelan got the estimate out." "I'm aware of that." "It was for six thousand, five hundred." There was another pause before Dave Rippon said, "I'm aware of that also, so what?" He held his father-in-law's eye as he said, "The estimate was sent out to them for seven thousand, two hundred and fifty." There was no reply from Dave Rippon now and Harry, wetting his lips again, said, "And there was another estimate sent to Halliday, apparently from Lovell's for eight thousand." "Now look here, Harry." Dave Rippon was sitting very straight in his chair, his two hands flat on the desk. "This is not in your department and I'll thank you ..." "But I think it is, Dave. You see, the letter came to me from Halliday; I got Whelan to make the estimate and that came to me too." "And then it came into this office. Prom then on it isn't your business." Harry took a deep breath and dared to say, "I don't like it. To me it's bad business." If he had thrust out his arm and punched his father-in-law right in the middle of his face Dave Rippon couldn't have been more taken aback, so much so that he could only stare at his daughter's husband and think, once again, she let herself in for something there. But his agile mind told him at this moment that he would -have to tread carefully with his son-in-law, because it would never do for this to get around, at least off this floor. He made himself lean back, take a deep, deep breath, and smile; then his voice calm-sounding, he said, "You know. Harry, right from the first I knew you weren't cut out for business, you're not ruthless enough. Now this is just a simple business deal; you've been long enough with the firm surely to realise " You sent an estimate supposedly from Lovell's for eight thousand for the same job. " Dave Rippon took a folded handkerchief now from his breast pocket and wiped something from the corner of his eye, stretching his mouth wide the while; then he said, "Well, that's easily explained. But it shouldn't need any explaining because you know yourself you send out an estimate and some of these beggars will beat you down to the last penny. They say A, B and C have put in theirs at hundreds less; you know this quite well, you're getting them every day. Well now, the job was six thousand five hundred, right?" He paused, waiting for a reply, but when Harry continued to stare at him he went on, "We put on another seven hundred and fifty. Why? Again because Halli- day is a new customer and if we can drop a few hundreds, say, down to six five, the original estimate, we've got him for good and all... see?" "Yes, yes, I can see that." But even as he said it he 5s:new that Halliday's estimate would never be dropped to six five not while his father-in-law was dealing with it. "Now about the Lovell's estimate; nobody outside those immediately concerned knows we've taken over Lovell's yet. Lovell's was a small private building company; their work was very high class and you've got to pay for high class work; so, therefore, when Halliday sent to Lovell's for an estimate I gave an estimate according to the work that Lovell's would likely have put in ..." "But that's the point. You'll give this job to Bradley or Kershaw or one of the others; they're not of Lovell's standard." Dave Rippon closed his eyes and leaned against the back of his chair, and then he said, "If you were getting an estimate in from one firm for seven thousand two hundred and fifty and for the same kind of work you got an estimate for eight thousand from another firm which would you take? Go on, tell me which one you would take? You know damn well which one you would take." Again he was leaning forward, his forearms stretched across the desk now, his hands flat as before. "We sent Lovell's out just as a matter of business. It's BUSINESS. We're not thieves or gangsters, we're business men. This is a business house. Oh lord! " He now rose to his feet, thrusting his chair back against the wall. "At this stage of your career I shouldn't be giving you a lecture on business ethics." "Perhaps you should." "What!" Dave Rippon turned and looked down on Harry. "What if Halliday, being a finicky kind of man, I don't know if he is, but just say he is, what if he plumps for Lovell's estimate?" "Then he deserves to pay eight thousand, that's all I can say." Dave Rippon was bending down to Harry now, his face on a level with his head, and below his breath he said, "Why these scruples all of a sudden?" Harry looked away from his father-in-law's face before saying quietly, "I don't think they are sudden." Then he dared to add, "A decent profit, that's business, but ... but this is Jiggerypokery. And have you thought what this man's going to say when he discovers that Peamarsh and Lovell are one and the same firm." "I don't care what he thinks." Dave Rippon was standing straight now and his voice sounded calm and cold. "The point stands that Lovell's was a high class firm and had highly skilled workmen, we've taken them over; nothing has changed." Oh my God I Harry groaned to himself. What could you say, how could you come back at this kind of twisted thinking? Half of Lovell's men were scattered among Bradley and Kershaw's. Whatever good work Lovell's men had done as a combined force was finished, but could you convince a man like Dave Rippon that this was so. "Look." Dave Rippon's voice came in sharp and high. "What you want is a holiday, or'--he poked his face forward again-- 'a change of job." "Perhaps you're right." Harry got to his feet, and Dave Rippon, sensing the battle of words he'd have with his daughter should her husband for any reason leave his protection, swallowed deeply and his tone, conciliatory now, said, "Come on, come on. Look, leave this to me. I'll straighten it out to fit your conscience. It's Christmas; come on, forget about it. " He put his hand on Harry's shoulder and walked him towards the door, and as he opened it he reman sea casually, " I'm oft to York this afternoon; I suppose Esther told you. " "Yes, she did say something about it." "It's a blooming nuisance. This fellow--he was my Colonel, I hadn't seen for years until we met at a reunion a little while ago--he's in a bad way, dicky heart, lives on his own ... well he's got a housekeeper, sort of. Anyway, he phoned me yesterday begging me to come up. And what can you do at Christmas, somebody lonely eh?" They were passing Miss Bateman's desk and he turned his head towards her now and asked, "Oh, by the way did you get me the reservation?" And when she answered, "Yes, it's here," he turned to Harry again and said, "There'll be thousands travelling today, and if this keeps on I can see us being stranded in some siding over the holiday." He laughed his other laugh, a deep belly laugh, then added, "But I must look in on the jollification for a little while, so see yolt again at three then." "It's beginning at two-thirty today." They both looked at Miss Bateman, and she added, "I'm having word sent round, so that everyone can get away earlier." "Half-past two it is then." Dave Rippon nodded at Harry and Harry returned the nod, then went out and down the passage and to the lift and when he was inside he leant his head against the wooden partition. He had never felt so small and inconsequential in his life before. From the beginning to the end of the interview his father-in-law had treated him like a cross between a young clerk and a man depending on his livelihood from the perks of his wife's father. When he opened his office door a girl was standing at the corner of his desk. He said, "Oh, hello," and she said, "I'm Betty Ray. Miss Bateman sent me in." "Oh yes. Sit down, Miss Ray." Seated behind the desk; he picked up some letters from the in-tray, saying, "There's only about half-a-dozen, they won't take long." He smiled at her now and said, "Nobody wants to work this morning." And she smiled back at him and replied, "Oh, I don't mind. I'd rather work, it passes the time away." "Yes," he inclined his head towards her, "There's something in that. Now then, this is to Farrow, Barrett and Soames. " As ne dictated me icllcjl nc luuis-cu cu'll1,1 cinu i. injm. iiL, kjni, o the one that sits farthest away from the window. The girls in the pool were mostly faces to him; they came in before he did in the morning and they went before he left at night. Sometimes he passed them on the stairs at lunch time but he had never managed to put a face to a body until now. Miss Ray looked a vivacious girl, medium height, black hair with a fine pair of eyes. Brown or black? He waited until she looked up again. Brown. When she had finished typing the letters and she was about to go, he said, "If it wasn't for the party you could go home now I suppose," and she answered pertly, "But what would I do there .,. Well I mean, I've got nothing to do at home; I'd rather stay for the party and risk being snowed in." "You would?" She nodded at him, "Yes," and they both laughed, he freely. "How long have you been here?" he asked. "Just over two months." "Do you like it ?" } She shrugged her shoulders. "It's a job." Yes, they were all jobs, just jobs. He looked at her now as a whole. She was what they would call petite. She sounded lively, different from poor old Ada. But Ada was twice her age. He guessed this girl to be twenty. When he said, "Thanks, Miss Ray," she said, in a manner which would surely have caused Miss Bateman's back hair to stand on end "Any time, any time, Mr. Blenheim," and went out. He found himself still smiling as he straightened the papers on his desk. For the moment he had forgotten about Halliday, Lovell's and his father-in-law. THREE The basement storeroom was crowded with staff, ranging from the second director to the tea boy. A transistor was blaring forth dance music, but no one would have thought of dancing; they didn't dance at the office party, they just drank, talked and laughed. Harry, carrying a tray of filled sherry glasses, stopped in front of a group of men and one of them said, "Well, there's no need for the old seasonable advice today, Mr. Blenheim, eh?" "What's that. Barney?" "Well, if you drive don't drink, and if you drink don't drive." "Oh yes, yes, that's true. Well, we're going to get something out of the snow after all, you could say." An elderly-looking man said, "I've seen some snow in me time but never anything like this. I've never seen it so thick that you couldn't get your cars out of the yard." "They say the buses are only running on the flat; they can't tackle Brampton Hill or the cemetery road." "Well the weather's not going to worry me," said another man. "I mean to get bottled and stay corked for the entire four days." Harry moved on amid laughter and went to a corner, where two girls were sitting on upturned boxes. As he neared them one got to her feet, saying, "I'll go and bring Ada," and Harry, offering the tray to the remaining girl, said, "Well, Miss Ray, how are you doing?" "Quite well, Mr. Blenheim, quite well; I've still got some." She raised her half-filled glass; then putting her hand out she added, "But I'll take another, just to keep the kettle boiling." "To keep the kettle boiling!" Harry laughed down on the girl. "It's a long time since l neard mat one. Wtncn part are you from?" The pert face pushed up towards his and the voice, hushed a little, said, "I'd better whisper it, Bog's End." "No I Well, the same here." "You, Mr. Blenheim 1' The brown eyes were stretched wide, the mouth agape. "Yes, I was born there." "Well, I never. Small world. Some go up, some go down, and some just stay put. The last's me. Although we don't live actually in Bog's End, but not a kick in the backs ... Oh lord!" She put her hand over her mouth and spluttered, "Aw well, it's Christmas, I might as well say it." Harry was laughing freely again. She was a card, this one. He wondered how she ever became a shorthand typist; her kind always ended up in a store or a factory. There was nothing of gentility, faked or otherwise, that he had come to expect from the typists in Peamarsh's. And she was a looker too, full of personality. When her companion and another girl came scurrying back and sat one on each side of her he offered them glasses of sherry, and they giggled as they said, "Oh, thanks, Mr. Blenheim." He smiled widely at them, saying, "It's my pleasure, ladies." Then, again amid laughter, he moved on. When he went to the trestled table to replenish his tray his father-in-law was standing talking to Graham Hall. Hall was senior to Dave Rippon, but by how much was anybody's guess. He suffered from a stomach complaint, and it was rumoured he was going to retire long before his time. Harry knew that his father-in-law could hardly wait for Hall's shoes, or for that matter Mr. Walters, whom everybody said should have retired years ago. Dave Rippon, showing his consideration for the staff, called in a voice that he aimed to raise above the din, "You're seeing to everybody, Harry? How about Miss Bateman?" He pointed to where Miss Bateman was standing condescending to talk to Jim Whelan, it being the one day in the year when position and seniority were supposedly forgotten. Harry looked towards Miss Bateman, but she was looking at her boss" and her boss was smiling at her and waving his hand. The atmosphere was very genial, very. Mrs. Streatham, who saw to the tea each day, was now busily filling glasses, As she piled half-a-dozen on to Harry's tray she said, "What about yourself, Mr. Blenheim? I haven't seen you take a drink yet." "You must have had your eyes closed then'--he poked his head towards her" --I've downed three so far, and there's still time to double it. They're saying back there we've no need to worry about drinking and driving today. " "That's true, Mr. Blenheim; we're going to get something out of it anyway." "That's exactly what I said." They laughed together as if at a hilarious joke. When he handed a glass of sherry to Miss Bateman she smiled thinly at him and said, "Thank you, Mr. Blenheim," and he thought, "That's your fourth to my knowledge and not even a sparkle in your eye." She could certainly carry it. As he was threading his way through the groups sitting and standing about the storeroom he bumped into Tom Vosey. He, too, had a tray in his hand and he bowed to Harry, saying, "Can I press you to a drink, Sir?" Vosey was the youngest of the directors. He had risen to where he was because he was related to Graham Hall. Nevertheless, to Harry, Tom was all right. They were buddies. And now, with a number of sherries down him, Tom was being skittish and playful; and Harry answered him in like vein. Assuming a pompous air, he said, "Thank you, my boy, thank you. Well, just one to keep out the chill, or let's say because there won't be any bill. Hah! hah! hah 1 Doesn't sherry make you witty? Drink it, my boy, drink it. " Tom Vosey put out his hand and pushed Harry in the shoulder, almost upsetting him and the tray. He was spluttering as he said, "You know, that's old Walters to the tee; I could even smell the board room." Then he added, "I say, how are we going to get home? ... We'll have to shank it, won't we?" "I'm afraid so." "God, I've got a mile to go. But you've got two, or more. . -----^, ^ ^^. la^. w wuispcring now conndentiatly. "Do these affairs bore you? Honest now, honest." Harry considered a moment, then said thoughtfully, "Yes and no. At one time I used to look forward to them, but now ... well." The too. I know what you mean. We enjoyed them when we were young, boy, when we were young. " Again he pushed Harry in the shoulder; then went on his way laughing. At a given signal someone called for order and Mr. Hall said his usual few words, apologising for the absence of their esteemed head director and thanking the staff, one and all, for their faithful service to the firm of Peamarsh. Immediately this ritual was over, Dave Rippon came up to Harry and spoke as if the altercation in the office hadn't happened. "Well, I'm off, Harry," he said. "Give my love to them all at home. It's a damn nuisance having to go to York on a day like this, but there it is. We let ourselves in for these things and have to stand the consequences. Well, have a good time," he slapped Harry between the shoulders. "And by the way, if it thaws, come down and take the car to the garage, will you?" He hiccuped slightly, then laughed as he added, "It's going to be yours anyway, so you'd better look after it... Happy Christmas." He slapped him again between the shoulders, then cried-loudly to those about him, "Happy Christmas everybody. Happy Christmas." "Happy Christmas, Sir. Happy Christmas, Sir." When he came opposite to Miss Bateman he actually took her hand and shook it, saying, "A happy. Christmas and she, looking into his face, replied " A happy Christmas, Mr. Rippon. " Then waving his hand about him he went out. "That should have given her a thrill," said Jim Whelan nonchalantly as he passed Harry, 'having your hand shaken by God. By the way, did you see him about that business? " and Harry replied, " Yes, I'll go into it after the holidays, Jim. " "Good. Well now, I'm off an' all. Happy Christmas, Harry." "Happy Christmas, Jim." Ten minutes later he was back in his office. His head was buzzing. He did not know how many sherries he had got down him, at least half-a-dozen. He had never taken on that many berore. ne a oeicer gci a <-up ui ica ; juii-wti'-i>- ^>-j--^v- . ^ arrived home; it wouldn't do to greet Esther starry-eyed. He gave a little laugh to himself, then sat down at his desk and rested his head on his hand. He felt he could just drop nicely oft to sleep; but he'd better not do that, he had a trek before him. He rose and got slowly into his outer things, looked around the office, switched out the light, and went down the stairs to the main hall. The hall was quite empty and he stood listening for a moent. There was no sound in the whole building. Funny, fifteen minutes ago the laughter and chatter had been rising to the top floor. He went out through the glass door and into the porch, and was met by a flurry of snow. It was still falling in thick, steady flakes, and although it was only a quarter to four it was almost dark. As he stood pulling his collar tightly up around his neck a small figure darted up the three steps in front of him, and as she brushed past him, she said, "Oh hello. Hello again. I've forgotten my bag. Fancy doing a daft thing like that. And it's got me pay in it! " She pushed out her lips and blew the snow away from her face, then laughed before disappearing through the glass door. He went slowly down the steps into the street, and he had just reached the corner when she caught up with him again. , , " Dreadful, isn't it? It's getting worse. " "Yes. Have you far to go?" "Pullman Street." As she finished she slipped and one leg disappeared into what had been a gutter but was now an eighteen inch drift. As he steadied her he said, "I know Pullman Street. I can go part of the way with you; we could cut across the Market, they've likely cleared that a bit." They had cleared the Market earlier in the day but the constant falling had beaten them for the Square was knee high in places. He said to her now, "They're going to find it difficult putting their stalls up tomorrow, and they generally do a roaring trade on Christmas Eve." She'turned her face towards him as she laughed and said, "We always wait until the last minute and get our turkey at a throw-out price. My mother can remember getting one one -. _, . ^ i-*^ uig iicc^crs then. But who needs a freezer in this? " When they had to step over a drift to get an to the pavement he took her arm and said, "Come on, jump it. One, two, three 1' She squealed as she landed on the other side, then cried, " I've lost me shoe! " When he dug out the high-heeled shoe he said, "Why didn't you put on something sensible when you knew it. was like this." "Oh, who wants to be sensible? Here, can I hang on to you while I put it on." He supported her with his arm around her shoulders and she held on to him as she bent her leg back and put on her shoe. And she squealed again, saying, "Coo 1 it's freezing. Me other one is wet and warm but this is like ice now." The further they got away from the centre of the town the deeper the snow. In the side roads nobody had bothered to clear it away as yet and when they came to Taunton Square, from where his road lay in the opposite direction from hers, he said, "You're never going to make this on your own, I'd better see you to your door." "Thanks." She peered up at him through the falling snow. "It's only about another five minutes' walk. At least it used to be; I don't know how long it will take us now." "Come on, let's see then." And he laughed as he took her arm. After they had gone a little way she pulled him to a stop and said, "Listen 1 Isn't everything quiet, hushed like?" He listened, then answered, "Yes, nice and quiet, hushed like." He was smiling down at her. "Do you like things quiet?" They were trudging on again now. "Yes, moderately so." "Oh, I don't, I like bustle, plenty of people, talk, noise, laughter life. That's what I like, life." Although he couldn't see her face he said, "Yes, I can see you do." Her comment to this was cut off when they both slipped together and overbalanced in the snow. When they righted themselves they had their arms around each other, but only for a second, for, taking her arm again, he made the incident casual by saying, "It's treacherous; you could break your neck." "We're nearly there; two more streets and up the cutting." In the cutting they had to walk in single file, lifting their feet high to make progress, and when they came to the end of it she pointed to the first house at the end of a short street and said, "Well, we're here." He raised his hat now and said formally, "Well, I'm glad you've made it. I think I'll make my way back into the Market and keep to- the main roads; they must have made some attempt to keep them open." "But you're not going straightaway'--she was peering up at him again as she searched in her bag for her key" --You're wringing and frozen as much as me. Come in and have a cup of something hot. " "It's very kind of you but..." "Kind, me foot! Come on in." He smiled to himself as he followed her into the house. She certainly was an uninhibited little miss, and she certainly had no respect for rank or class distinction. "Take your coat and things 08." I'll switch the fire on. The house is warm, the boiler's always on, but we'll need something more than the boiler to thaw us out. " She had flung her coat and head scarf aside and now, balancing on one leg, she undid her stockings from her suspenders and dragged them from her wet legs. "Here, give me your coat, I'll put it on the boiler." "Oh no, no. It's perfectly all right, it's waterproof." "Waterproof or not, it's soaking wet across the bottom. Here give it to me." She almost dragged it from him. "There now, sit down an' make yourself comfortable." As she went to go through a door she paused and, looking over her shoulder, laughed back at him, saying, "Make yourself at home; it's Christmas ... remember." He found himself sitting on a very comfortable couch before an electric fire which flickered over artificial logs and smiling widely to himself. Make yourself at home. Make yourself at home, because it's Christmas. She was a little star turn. "Tea?" Her voice was calling from the other room, the kitchen presumably. iA. " ^^^^. ^..^ mti-iii-u lu'd kellie Deing nuea and the plop of the gas being lit, and when she came back into the room she said, " It won't be a tick. " He looked at her standing in her bare feet, her dress coming just above her knees Miss Bateman wouldn't allow mini skirts she looked like a child, no older than Gail. For some thing to say he said, "It's a very comfortable room this." He spread out his hand. "Yes, I like it." She came and sat on the sofa, not in the corner but not close to him. "My mother did it up; she's a dab hand with paper and paint." "Your mother does the decorations, not your father?" "I haven't got a father." "I'm sorry." "Oh, don't be. I don't remember him; he died when I was young." "Have you any brothers or sisters?" "No, just me and me mother, two lone women." She laughed, and he laughed and said, "Woman indeed 1' " What do you mean? Woman indeed! What do you take me for? A girl? " "Well, yes, I would. I'd take you for a girl, a young girl." "Coo 1 that's nice." The kettle began to whistle and she jumped up and went into the kitchen, and from there she called, "How old do you think I am?" He thought for a moment and said "Nineteen." "Thanks very much; I'm twenty-four." "You're not 1' " I am. " She came in with the tray and, putting it down on a pouf fe to the side of the fireplace, she said, " I'm shivering, I want something to lace this. How about you? " "Oh, not for me, thank you." "Oh go on." She went to a sideboard behind them and brought out a bottle of whisky. "It's Christmas. Have you for gotten? It's Christmas, and we've just trekked through the Yukon, and you've saved me life and we've come to the log cabin and we're going to be marooned here for three weeks." He was laughing loudly now; he couldn't help but laugh at her. "There, get that down you." He'd never had whisky in tea before and he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and said, "Hmm 1 very nice." "I'll say it's nice; it's me life saver." "Yes?" "Yes." She drew in a deep breath and lifted her legs and put the soles of her feet towards the fire. Then leaning back, she said, "Everything's nice at Christmas; everybody's nice to everybody at Christmas. Have you noticed it? For a couple of days everybody's nice to everybody, and for the rest " of the year they're bitchy. " "Is that how you've found life?" "Mm I Well no." She shook her head. "There are nice people. You're nice." ^"Thank you." "But you are, seriously." She now sat straight up on the couch and turned her body towards him until her knees were within an inch of his. "That's what they said the first day I came to Peamarsh's. You'll like Mr. Blenheim, they saidj he's nice." "They didn't. You're teasing me." "Honest, they did, all the girls in the pool. They said there were one or two not bad, Mr. Vosey and Mr. Whelan, and one or two on the bottom floor, but for the rest they were stinkers. Oh, you should hear what they say. And they know some things about a lot of them an' all, all the darling goodie-goodies. Make your hair stand up on end, it would. But never about you. " She took another long drink from her cup, her eyes fixed on him all the while. "A nice bloke, that's what they said you were, a quiet, nice bloke. And you know what else they say?" His mouth was rightly closed, he was trying to stop himself from laughing. He shook his head. "That you're above board." He stared at her, his face bright. He felt warm inside, the whisky was seeing to that. Yet it wasn't the whisky alone, it was a good feeling to know that people thought you a nice fellow, a nice bloke. Gail had said that too. It was worth being above board after all. "They think Rippon, your father-in-law's, a stinker." "Oh, do they now?" . "--- --,^ n^" i. m . "i-i juicy say ne's got more than j Mr. Walters, or Mr. Hall or any of the others put together. | They say he's loaded down with shares in everything from oil : to ointment. " He drooped his head on to his chest and bit on his lip. He should stop her talking but he couldn't; nor did he want to. It was all so good to hear that they thought Mr. Dave Rippon a stinker. It was good to know that some people could see' through his church facade. "Have another sup?" "Oh, no, thanks." "Come on." She pulled the cup from him. "You can only get really drunk once." He was leaning against the back of the couch laughing loudly. He had never laughed like this in years. Suddenly he put his hand over his mouth and said, "Dear! dear! Have you got near neighbours ?" "Only Ma Tarrant next door and she's stone deaf. We're lucky ..." Half-an-hour later he had got through three cups of tea and almost die equivalent of three double whiskies; he had his shoes off and they were set at a safe distance from the electric fire drying. Betty was now in a knee-length, padded dressing gown because she had found that her dress was damp. She sat on the couch with her legs curled under her, her head and hands moving as she talked; and he lay back in bemused contentment and laughed at her. He had never met anyone like her. She was gay, happy, full of the joy of living and, strangely, she didn't make him feel old. He felt younger now than he could remember feeling in his twenties. "Loosen your collar and tie." "No, no. What do I want to loosen my collar and tie for?" "Go on, make yourself comfortable, there's nobody'll come in. Me mother won't be back until nearly eight. Here." She had her hands at his neck, and they were struggling now; then she was lying across his knee looking up into his face, her hands still at his neck but quiet for a moment under his grip. He looked down at her in silence, and then he said thickly. "You know, you're a naughty girl." iviy ] you vc uccn i^uii-k. nnuuig mat out. Iou're snarp. ne tone, the deriding manner in which she said it, her candidness set him off laughing again. And now she had her head snugglec under his chin and his tie was off and the buttons of his shir were open. "Have you any hairs on your chest?" "What!" "Let's see if you have any hairs on your chest." They were struggling again. "Here, here 1 you little devil. Give over." She gave over and lay back on his arm, her head on the en of the couch looking up at him. Then, her hand coming out she traced her red nailed finger gently around his mouth, sayinj softly, "You're nice, nicer than nice, sort of innocent nice." "What I' He tried to pull himself up in mock indignation am she emphasised now, " But you are. Do you know what? If yoi weren't, you'd have had me clothes off afore now. " "Oh, Betty. Really!" "Oh, Betty, really!" She mimicked his voice, then tweaked hi nose. As she lay gazing up at him, her big brown eyes mere slit now, his sanity, rising on a strong wave, told him to get out o here and quick, and he muttered thickly, "I'll have to be makin my way; it's getting on and it's going to take me some tim to ... to get back." "Why go when you don't want to?" "What do you mean, I don't want to?" "You know what I mean. You don't want to go." They were staring at each other again, and he said softly "You seem to know everything, don't you?" "Pretty near everything." She was her skittish self again, he chin bobbing and her hand waving in the air. "Anyway, know enough that you don't want to go." "What if I prove you wrong?" Her body became still for a moment. Then raising her hea from the couch, she brought her face close to his. Her eye: wide now, stared into his, and of a sudden she was kissing bin holding him and kissing him with such a ferocity that it was like an attack. And it was seconds before he responded to her. wnen she pm icu' ll1111 up from me coucn and led him across the room and into a bedroom he made no resistance. When she switched on the light, one thing his bemused mind did notice was that the curtains were already drawn; it was as if she had prepared for it. He sat on the edge of the bed, as much from weakness at the knees as pressure from her hands, and when, slowly unbuttoning the dressing gown, she slid it from her and stood before him stark naked, he closed his eyes against the sight of her. He hadn't seen Esther naked more than half-a-dozen times in his life, and then only when he had barged into the bathroom, when she had been quick to cover herself up. Yet here was this girl standing before him without a stitch on. It was unbelievable. For a moment he thought that he must be dreaming, until her hands came on him again and she pulled off his jacket. All his life afterwards he was to remember the next half- hour. Even when he hated the thought of it, every incident and happening in it was to remain clear before his eyes. At night when they turned the key on him and he was alone within those four cold, soul-crushing walls, he was to remember. Later, through ostracism and shame, the memory was still clear. Even when his life flowed through a channel that brought him a peace he had never known before, the memory remained vivid. Bringing him out of sleep, pushing the sweat from his pores, bringing groans and remembered moans of ecstasy from him. He had been married for eighteen years and he knew now that compared with her he was as inexperienced as a virgin boy. He felt ravished, raped. She was wild, savage, almost demented at times. Such intensity and passion coming from such a small frame was unbelievable; and more unbelievable still when he thought of her as a young girl. But once it was over he never thought of her as a young girl again. He lay still on the top of the bed, nothing moving but his bare chest. He wasn't at peace as was the case after he had been with Esther; every nerve end in his body seemed frayed, yet he had a strange sense of exhilaration and achievement. But he had achieved nothing; the achieving was hers. He wasn't aware how long he lay unmoving, but when he turned his head and looked at her he expected to find, like Esther, she But instead, her eyes were wide, laughing, waiting. She said softly to him, "Do you believe me now?" He did not answer but made a questioning movement with his head, and she replied, "That I know everything." He still did not answer her, but as he looked at her he thought. Yes, she certainly does. And where had she learned it? She looked nineteen, she said she was twenty-four, and she had the knowledge of an old whore mistress. The last thought brought him up on his elbow to stare down at her, and it was as if he was reading the words written on her naked body: She was a tart. A little prostitute, that's what she was. He got off the bed and dressed with his back to her, pulling on his clothes with jerky movements. When he made for the door she said to him, "Some people are never satisfied." He turned and looked at her but could find nothing to say. As he went to close the door behind him she said, "I'll be seeing you." It sounded like a threat. He pulled on his shoes, got into his coat, wound his scarf around his neck, took up his hat and let himself out into the street. It was still snowing heavily, and he stood for a moment bemused. He must have been stark, staring mad. He entered the long cut, lifting his feet high with each step, and when he reached the end of it where the wind had drifted the snow to the side and left a small clear space he stood for a minute leaning his back against the wall. What had he let himself in for? This is what happened when men went abroad. Peter Thompson had told him why Arthur Rice went off on his lone tour at least once a year. It could happen abroad and no consequences. But this had happened in Fellburn, in the town where he was known by practically everyone, where he was known as a churchman, for the simple reason that he sang in the choir, and, as it happened, with a young girl in his firm, a girl he'd see every day in the week, even if it was only her head through the glass partition of the pool. God! What had he done? He must have been raving, barmy. He hadn't been all that drunk, he had known what he was doing. Or had he? He'd never had so much whisky at one go before. And on top of all that sherry. He rubbed his hand over his snow-covered tace. it was no use maKing excuses ror nimseir, it was done, ana he. Harry Blenheim, had done it. Or had he? He was feeling again her bouncing, struggling bare body. But it didn't tie up with the everyday picture of her, small, neat and soft. Yet he'd heard of women like her; he had heard body-hungry men easing themselves with stories of loving amazons. But she hadn't been just one amazon, she had been half-a-dozen. How long was he there altogether? He pushed his coat sleeve up to peer at his watch, then realised with deep dismay that he had left it in the bedroom. The strap had caught at her skin and he had dragged it off his wrist and thrown it on the side table. It was a gold watch with a gold link strap and had been Esther's present to him on their seventeenth wedding anniversary and had an inscription inside to that effect. God 1 What was he going to do now? He'd have to go back. He turned, but didn't go immediately down the cut; he had to will his body to move. He had just reached the end of the cut when he saw a woman standing by the door he was making for. She was banging on it as she kicked the snow from her feet. When the door opened he caught a blurred glimpse of the girl. Within a second the door was closed. That settled that. He wasn't going in there and have to face the mother; no, not if he never got the watch. When he again reached the end of the cut he stopped once more, his thoughts racing now. How was he going to face them at home, Esther and Gail? Gail? It would be harder to face Gail. "You all right, mister?" The man coming out of the cut was looking into his face, and he pulled himself from the wall and said, "Yes, thank you. Just a little exhausted. It's heavy going." "You're telling me ... Far to go?" "Holt Avenue." They were plodding along side by side now. "Oh, that's yon side, isn't it?" "Yes, it's some way. But I'll cut across the Market and keep to the main road. That should ease things." "That's going out of your-way," said the man. "Why don't you cut up Barrack Road. Look, we're coming to it. You cut up there; that'll take off the Market and bring you out in Champlion Place." "Yes," said the man; 'it'll cut a good third off. " "That's very helpful." Harry nodded at him. "Thanks, I'll try it." They parted at the corner of the next street, and the going here wasn't so bad as the people had attempted to clear the snow from the pathways. But when he came out into Champlion Place it was almost knee high again. As he crossed the Square his knees almost buckled under him. From the Square he cut up side street after side street; then of a sudden he realised he was walking down Baker Street. This was where Janet lived. In the ordinary way he would have approached his home from the other direction. So deep was the snow here that he had to support himself with one hand against the wall, and when he found his hand flat against a door he made out the number seventeen. Janet lived at twenty-three, three doors away. He would knock and go in and rest for a while. It would appear quite natural. He could say he had taken a short cut that had turned out to be the long way round. He was frozen right to the bone. When he had left the other house he felt that he would never be cold again, but now he was shivering, and he knew that it wasn't only with the cold but with the thought of entering his own home. He was aware that he was still slightly drunk and if he went in like this Esther would be sure to smell it from him; there were no secret Rippon breath formulae for him. Within a few seconds of his knocking on the door of number twenty-three it was opened, and Robbie stood there, silent for a moment, until recognizing the figure. Then he exclaimed loudly, "Good lord 1 Mr. Blenheim. Come in, come in." He put out his hand and almost dragged him over the threshold, exclaiming loudly, "Lor! you are in a state .. Mami Mami' he called over his shoulder then went on, " Let me get your coat off; it's sodden. You're all sodden. " Some whimsical part of Harry endorsed this. Yes, he was sodden both inside and out. "Why, Harry I' Janet Dunn was standing at the end of the passage. The name Harry sounded natural on her lips, yet she never used it in his house. She came forward holding out her hands, saying, " How did you come down this way? Is anything "Let him thaw out and then he'll tell you," said Robbie i bluntly. "Let's get him near the fire." He spoke as if Harry was ) unconscious, and he could have been for he felt powerless to ; open his mouth. They went into the living-room, one each side of him, and lowered him into a chair before the open fire. Harry now looked up at Janet. He wanted to explain to her but still found it impossible. But when she put her hand on his brow and said, "You are hot, but you're shivering. You've got a chill. Bring a drop of whisky, Robbie," he made an effort and protested in a croaking voice, "No, no 1 A cup of tea please. That's all, a cup of tea, or ... or if you have c ... coffee." "Yes, yes, certainly. You'll have it in a second." When she left the room Robbie, dropping on his hunkers before Harry, : asked quietly, "You been out in this long?" "An hour I think. No, longer. What time is it?" *A quarter to seven. " "No I' He sat up in the chair. "As late as that? I ... I should be home, they'll be worrying." "You haven't been home?" "No. No. There was a party at the office." He leant back in the chair again. "Some of the staff had a job getting back, I ... I helped them." And how, he thought. , Straightening himself up, Robbie said, "Well, another half- hour isn't going to make much difference; you're not fit to go <. out again yet." He stood looking down at him. An office party. That's why he stank of whisky. He had been under the impression that he didn't drink. Perhaps that was only when in the house. Madam Blenheim being a strict tee totaller "What you want," he said now, 'is something to eat; it'll steady you. " "Oh no, not' Harry shook his head, but Robbie insisted, saying, " Never mind no, no; its packing you want inside you I'd say. We were just about to have something, anyway. " .; As his mother came through the doorway with a cup of ; coffee in her hand he said, "It's something to eat he wants, what do you say?" | "Yes, indeed," said Janet. "That's the thing. So drink this, then -j sit up; it's all ready." Harry took a long drink of the scalding liquid, then muttered, 'ino, janer; i m not going to trou ole you any further. " "Trouble!" Her voice was high. "We're only too pleased to have company. And what better day than on the queen of the sabbath." He looked up at her enquiringly for a moment. Then lowering his head he said softly, "Oh dear me, I forgot it was Friday, Janet." "All the better," she said. "We couldn't have wished for better company, so come on, drink that coffee up and we'll get started." She returned to the kitchen and brought in a large covered dish, which she placed in the middle of the table set to the side of the room. The table was covered with a white cloth and at each end was a candle in a tall holder. He watched her lighting the candles and heard her mutter something as she did so. Then she turned to him, smiling, and said, "They should have been lit at sunset but that would have been at half past three. Do you remember looking through the window when you were a lad and Dad going to the door to bring you in and you flying down the backyard as if the devil was after you? " He shook his head and she laughed, "Well, you did." Then she motioned him to the table, and he rose slowly and took his seat. Robbie was already standing at one end of the table. He had a bottle of wine, in his hand and began to pour some in a glass while unselfconsciously saying, "Blessed art thou 0 Lord, our God King of the Uni-verse, who created the fruit of the wine." Then he sipped it and poured out another two glasses. Next he lifted the white napkin that was covering a large object to reveal a loaf of plaited bread. Again he repeated the words he had said before, but adding how, "Who bringeth forth bread from the earth." Then nodding impishly at Harry, he added, "All in English for your benefit. Geordie English. Funny that, but me yiddish isn't in Geordie, at least I don't think it is." Janet and he now laughed together. Then he broke the bread, dipped it into wine and handed it to Harry, saying, "It's very good chollah." } "Thank you." Harry put the bread on his plate, then looked at the wine glass in his hand. From the smell of the contents lln-t^nOli. tCU Llll that was already in his stomach. When Janet lifted the lid from the dish in the centre of the table to disclose what looked like a stew and which gave off a strong aroma of herbs, she said, "You do like fish. Harry, don't you? So you should like this, it's what we call cholent." "It's got everything in but the pan scrub," said Robbie, laughing, 'and it's guaranteed to stick to your ribs. " Harry smiled but said nothing; he was doing his utmost to quell the rising swell of sickness, but when Janet placed the plate of steaming chopped fish and vegetables before him it was more than he could stand. His head down, his hand to his mouth, he stumbled to his feet, muttering, "Sorry, sorry, bathroom." "This way." Robbie had him by the arm, and when they got into the small kitchen, Harry, still pressing on his mouth, groaned, "Lavatory." "That's outside, man," said Robbie brusquely. "Get it up in the sink here. Come on." Harry was now past protest and, leaning over the sink, he vomited. A strong smell of whisky and dead sherry and the stodgy meat pudding he'd had for his lunch in a restaurant in town erupted. A few minutes later, when Robbie handed him a towel he wiped his mouth; then putting his forearms on the draining board he rested his head on them. "Here." Robbie pushed a plain kitchen chair towards him and said quietly, "Sit down." He sat down; then looking up at the young man he stared at him for a moment in silence before saying, "I'm so sorry, Robbie." "What's to be sorry for? You've been sick, and no wonder, the way you came in. I'll tell you something." He put his head down to Harry and whispered. "Gin does the same for me. Two glasses and I'm flat. She doesn't know." He nodded towards the kitchen. "She always thinks it's something she's cooked' He was grinning now, but Harry couldn't grin back. Getting to his feet, he said, " If you don't mind, Robbie, I'll make my way home. " "Yes, yes, of course. And I'll come along of you." 1NU, IWy yULi WU11 L. "Well, you might as well stop talking because I'm comin'. I won't go in, don't worry, but I'm going to see you there. I don't want them to find you lying in the gutter stiff the morrow mornin'." At this moment Harry thought he wouldn't mind being found in the gutter stiff tomorrow morning. Janet helped him into his coat, and she pushed his fumbling fingers aside and tucked his scarf over his chest, then buttoned the coat. He said to her too, "I'm sorry, Janet." And her voice brusque now, she replied sharply, "Don't be silly Harry. What have you got to apologise to me for? I'll remind you that I've had to hold your head before the day when you were sick. Do you remember the night we went to the fair and you went on the shoggies." He had a faint recollection of the event and he smiled at her weakly. And she went on, "And that wasn't the only time. There were school treats when you stuffed yourself and got it up in the bus coming back." He could remember one such occasion. "I must have a weak stomach," he said. "There." She handed him his hat. "Now when you get in go straight to bed and have a rest over the holidays. It isn't only today that has caused this stomach upset, it's doing that Father Christmas stunt. That Market Place is a death trap any day in the winter, even without snow. I don't know how Robbie escaped. " As he looked down at her part of his mind registered the fact that Janet Dunn in twenty-three Baker Street was a different creature from Janet Dunn when she came to help out in Holly- tree House, Holt Avenue. This was the Janet he remembered from years back, and he had never seen her for a long time because their meetings were always in his own home, with Esther in either the foreground or the background. He said, "Perhaps you'll invite me to dinner some other time, Janet?" and she answered, "Any time. You know you're welcome in this house any time, Harry. And you don't need an invitation. Dear, dear I you should know that." He looked at her face. It was plain, homely and good. Her 0 . J ' her skin had an olive tint; her nose was not large but it was the nose of a Jewess. Yet somehow he had the impression she had just missed being a beautiful woman. She had a good figure, and as his grannie had said, she had a presence, a sort of dignity. She was a good woman altogether was Janet. He took her hand and nodded at her but said nothing, then they went into the passage where Robbie was waiting. She opened the door and let them out, saying, "Go careful, the both of you mind. Go careful." She spoke as if they were of one family. As he went down the street with Robbie supporting him by the arm he thought, It's been the strangest day of my life. Robbie left him at the bottom of the steps, saying, "Now you do what Mam said and go straight to bed. And if I were you I'd stay there over the holidays; you're right down low if I'm any judge." "I'll see to it, Robbie." He tried to smile. "And thanks for your help, for everything." "You're welcome. There's nobody I'd rather give me shoes to, you know that." They peered at each other through the snow, then Robbie turned away and he went into the house. When he reached the hall they all gathered round him, all talking at once, until Esther, her voice raised unusually high cried, "Stop it! Be quiet, I can't hear myself think. Now'--she looked at Harry--'you might tell me where on earth you've been. They said you left the office before four, your car's still there. We couldn't find out anything from anyone with Father gone to York. " Before he could answer Gail said, "Let me get. your coat off, Father. Oh I it's wet. And your shoes and trousers, look. " "Well, don't stand there," said Esther; 'the carpet will be filthy. Go in to the cloakroom and take them off. Get your father's slippers, Terry. And stop dancing about, Gail. John, put the kettle on. " As she gave her orders she pushed Harry towards the cloakroom, and there he sat down and pulled his shoes and socks off and turned the bottom of his trousers up. When she bent down and felt them she said, "They're absolutely wringing," and at this he was forced to retort snarply 'well perhaps you haven't noticed, Esther, it's snowing outside. " She answered this with a stiff silence for a moment; then she asked in her usual controlled tone, "Where have you been?" He bowed his head and rubbed his brow with his hand as he said, "After the party some of the staff couldn't get home, I ... I helped one or two on their way, then I got sort of lost and found myself round by Janet's, and I was so exhausted I went in ..." "You mean to say you've been at Janet's all this time!" Her voice was indignant now. "Not all the time; I don't know how long." He couldn't say not more than twenty minutes. "But I just had to call in, I was dead beat. You've got no idea what it's like outside. " "She could have sent Robbie to say you were there. That's the least she could have done." "I wouldn't let her," he lied. "She wanted to but I wouldn't let her. Now if you don't mind, Esther, I want to get near the fire. " He got to his feet and pushed past her in the narrow space and went out into the hall, there to see John standing with his slippers in his hand. He took them from him, saying, " Thanks'; then still in his bare feet he went into the sitting-room, and as he dropped on to the couch Gail took the slippers from him and slipped them on to his feet, then said, "You should go upstairs, Dad, and change your trousers, they're very wet." "I will in a minute, dear." He nodded at her. "Do you want anything, a hot drink or anything?" Esther was standing before the couch, and without looking at her he shook his head and said, "All I want is to get to bed." "I'll go and put your electric blanket on." Gail ran out of the room and he pulled himself to his feet again, saying, "I'll be all right tomorrow, I just want to sleep." He had not looked Esther straight in the face yet. When he entered the room Gail was turning down his bed, and when she came at him and flung her arms round his waist, saying, "Oh, Dad, I was worried; I thought you had dropped into a drift or something," he felt his whole body. stiffen. She was the same size, the same height as Betty Ray. Her body felt like Betty Ra^'s. When she put her hands up on. to his lapels to 67 ncip nun on wun nis coat ne cnrust ner rrom mm, and, tils voice rough, almost a growl, he said, "Don't. Don't do that." It was the first time in his life he had repulsed her. Always he had opened his arms wide to her; always he had hugged her close. She stepped back from him, her hand up to her cheek, her eyes wide and slowly filling with tears, and then she was running from the room. He followed her swiftly towards the door but when he reached it he stopped abruptly and closed it and leant his back against it. This was only the beginning. FOUR It was three weeks before Harry returned to the office, and if he was grateful for anything during that time it was for the respite. When, on Christmas Eve, his temperature having risen with alarming rapidity, Esther sent for the doctor--who pronounced a severe dose of influenza--the one clear thought in Harry's' mind was. Thank God I won't have to go in on Wednesday. Looking back he didn't remember much about Christmas Day or Boxing Day, only that he had made his peace with Gail. She had 'come into the room several times and stood at the foot of the bed and asked politely, "How do you feel now, Dad?" until he had made the effort to put out his clammy hands to her and croak, "Come here." And when she had stood at the bedside he had said, "I'm sorry, pet. I'm sorry," and she had answered without her usual gusto, "It's all right, Dad." He had moved his throbbing head slowly and said, "No, I was rough with you but ... but I felt ill, more so than I do now; I'd ... I'd had a trying day, and the snow." "It's all right, Dad," she had answered, and again he had moved his head. Then pulling her down to the side of the bed he had whispered, "Listen, pet. If ever again I'm bad-tempered and beastly take no notice, just tell yourself that I love you better than anyone else in the whole wide world, will you?" On this she returned to the daughter he knew and she threw herself on his neck, crying, "Oh, Dad 1 Dad I' " There now. There now. Look, you'll catch this cold. But remember what I. said. " She had lifted her head and looked at him and dropped it to one side, saying, "You never could be bad tempered or beastly, not you. " "I was last night." "It wasn't you, it was the flu." "Get up out of that, child!" Do you want it too? " Esther's command had brought Gail to her feet, but she had smiled lovingly at him before leaving the room. After this little incident he let himself dissolve into the sweating depths created by a hundred and four temperature. But now the time of the respite was over and Esther was at the door to see him off, driving in her father's cast-off Jaguar. Under other circumstances he would have got a thrill out of driving the Jaguar. Who wouldn't? But passed over as it had been, almost in the nature of a gift, the joy of possession was tainted somewhat. He knew that his father-in-law wouldn't have let him have a smell of the car if it hadn't been that he wanted to please Esther. That was the only good point in his father-in-law's favour; his constant aim to please his daughter. But the business of the car. was not really bothering him at the moment. What was tensing the muscles of his stomach and bringing his jaw rigid was the uncertainty of what attitude Miss Betty Ray would take towards him. Remembering her brashness he shivered with apprehension. But he needn't have worried. After Mr. Hogg had greeted him warmly there came the chorus of, "Good morning. Nice to see you back, Mr. Blenheim. You feeling better?" To all of which he had said, "Yes, yes, thank you very much." And then he was passing the window of the typing pool, and the girls inside, having heard the chatter in the hallway, all had their faces turned towards him, and they smiled at him. And among the smiling faces was Betty Ray's. He did not let his eyes linger on her but nodded through the glass to them as a whole. Then he was in his office and Ada Cole was taking his coat and saying, "Oh, I am glad to see you back, Mr. Blenheim." "Thanks, Ada." "Sure you're feeling fit now?" "Fit as a fiddle, Ada. Well'--he paused--'not quite. Let us say, I don't feel like dying any longer." ^ Her round face smiling, she looked at him kindly, saying, "It's an awful thing, flu. It gets you down. It's left its mark on you; you've lost weight, and your tan's gone." "Tan? I never knew I had a tan, Ada." "Oh, well, you know what I mean, you were a bit brow ny "Well I suppose the snow bleached me." "Eeh I it did that. Wasn't it dreadful? A number of old people in the town died, and no wonder. We've never had anything like it for years; and we don't want it again, do we? " "No, Ada." He took his seat behind the desk, drew in a deep breath, then asked, "Anything new?" "One or two small jobs have been completed. Bradley's doing the alterations in Temple Street and Kershaw has finished the Council job. There have been some enquiries in, estimations . And Halliday, you remember, he accepted the quotation. " "Halliday?" He lifted his chin upwards. "Oh yes; I was dealing with that just before we broke up, at least I went to see Mr. Rippon about it. There was a muddle about prices." "Well, they accepted the stated price." "And what was that?" "Oh." She screwed up her face. "I can't think off-hand. I'll get it." On her way to the filing cabinet she turned round and said, "I've just remembered, we haven't got it. I had orders to pass on all that correspondence to the upper office." She jerked her head towards the ceiling. "Was it six thousand, five hundred?" "Oh no, more than that, I'm sure. Now I remember. That was the estimate Mr. Whelan put in but Miss Bateman told me they'd worked it out upstairs and that wouldn't cover it.. It was over seven thousand. Yes, it was over seven thousand. " She was nodding her head now. He looked down at his desk for a moment, then bit on his lip and asked, "Who's to do the work?" "Bradley's as far as I can make out. They're starting this week. Their estimate is likely in. It's bound to be, but I haven't seen it. Everything's been mixed up lately, hasn't it, Mr. Blenheim? I mean not just lately, for months now. You don't know where you are, do you ? "No," he said slowly; 'you don't know where you are. " She looked at him for a moment longer. He was vexed. She could always tell when Mr. Blenheim was vexed. She turned 71 ana garnered up some papers from a side desk and went into her cubby hole. Harry sat staring at the phone. He had a desire to pick it up and say what was on his mind, but he knew that he daren't; not if he wanted to remain in Peamarsh's. But it was damnable, damnable. Bradley's estimate would be in the region of five thousand five hundred, give or take a pound or two. When Jim Whelan had put the job down at six thousand five hundred he was giving Peamarsh's a good percentage for the small amount of negotiating work they were doing, but that didn't suit Mr. Rippon. He had to put it up another seven hundred and fifty. And who would get a cut of that? Would it be ploughed back? Not if Dave Rippon had anything to do with it, it wouldn't; it would be fiddled into the directors' pockets . But how? Yes, how? There was Miss Bateman to get over. She must know a lot, Miss Bateman. As bad as old Walters was, this kind of robbery hadn't been so blatant when he was active. Their percentage had never been moderate but they had usually stuck to Jim Whelan's figures. What would happen when his father-in-law became head of the firm, which was very much on the cards? Would he be able to work directly under him? When Dave Rippon moved into Peter Walters' office, Frank Nolan, Arthur McMullen and Tom Vosey would all move up a step and there would be a vacancy on the directors' board, arid that vacancy would come to him; not because his father-in-law would want it like that but because Esther would want it tike that. But what did he himself want? Well, it didn't matter what he wanted, did it? He was fast stuck under Dave Rippon's thumb. Everything that came his way would come via Rippon, that is, as long as he remained in this firm. And being Esther's husband, he couldn't see himself leaving it ever. He took his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face, he was sweating. It was as he returned from lunch that he came face to face with Betty Ray. She stopped on the bend of the stairs. Standing above him and her eyes wide and bright, she looked into his face and said, "I'm so glad you're better, Mr. Blenheim." His answer to this should have been, "Thank you," but all he could do was to swallow and stare at her. "It was the snow; it was dreadful wasn't it?" Her eyes were swelling over with laughter; he could almost hear her gurgling inside. He couldn't believe that she was the same girl who had acted like that. His mind interpreted, in a flashing picture, the words "like that', and he saw her naked, savage and writhing, totally uninhibited. "Did you get my card?" He heard himself repeating dully, "Card?" at the same time seeing Esther holding out a card to him, saying, "This one's got no name on. Gaudy looking thing; it must be from one of the choir boys. Very nice though to think of you. That makes thirty-one altogether. You're doing well. " "Yes, I sent you a get-well card. I didn't sign it." Her voice was a mere whisper now. "I thought I'd better not ... By the way, I have your watch ..." She stopped abruptly. She was looking over her shoulder at someone coming up the stairs and she finished in a clear voice, "I'm so glad you're better, Mr. Blenheim." As Miss Bateman came abreast of them he said, "Thank you, than fe you," then followed the stiff trim figure up to the landing. When they reached the hallway Miss Bateman turned to him and, smiling quite genially for her, said, "I endorse that, Mr. Blenheim, it's very nice to see you back again." "Thank you, Miss Bateman. It's good to be back; you get very bored at home." Then they went their separate ways. Standing at the window of his room he looked down on. the street and breathed deeply. The pattern was set; she wasn't going to blab. She had taken the incident like a night out at the theatre say. He looked unseeing now across the street and wondered how many men she had practised on to become so proficient at her hobby, for likely that was what it was with her. During the days around Christmas when he was at his lowest he had thought the whole thing was a nightmare and had been relieved at the idea, but his temperature, returning to normal, had brought with it the unpleasant fact that it was no nightmare. Well, it was over, and there'd be no repetition, not if he knew it. Although it was a pretty uncomfortable feeling to nave the awareness of this thing between them he imagined that he wasn't the only man that shared such a secret with her. He supposed he really should be getting a kick out of the incident. Many men would, but it held no kick for him, only revulsion; and this was mainly created by the thought that one so young could be so damnably knowledgeable, and, moreover, had used him and made him feel like a schoolboy fumbling at his first affair. She had mentioned his watch. He was relieved about that. Now he was back she'd likely send it to him here at the office. Esther, fortunately, hadn't missed it. That was something. But Betty Ray didn't return his watch; instead, she sent him a letter. Ada usually left his mail, the envelopes slit open in a pile to the right of his blotting pad. But the next morning on top of the pile, lay an envelope with the words "Private and Personal' printed in bold letters above the address. As he picked it up he looked at Ada Cole standing in front of the desk, then said aloud, " Private and Personal, huh! " He was smiling as he slit the envelope open. There was a single. piece of paper inside and on it he read simply, " I have something belonging to you, don't you want it? " He had no power to stop the blood rushing to his face. He folded the letter in four again, crumpled up the envelope and dropped it into the waste paper basket; then looking up at Ada Cole he remarked with as much casualness as he could muster, " Something silly; I'll deal with this. " "Yes, Mr. Blenheim." And on this she turned and went into her room and, being a woman, she thought. Now what could be in that letter that would make him look like that, absolutely startled, and red to the ears? Harry did a lot of thinking during the day. Should he ignore the letter and wait until he met her, perhaps by chance on the stairs again, and ask her point blank if she would kindly return the watch. But remembering her volatile personality he could see her marching into his office, a wide grin on her face, and slapping it down on his desk and in front of Ada Cole, or anyone else" who might be there. One thing he decided he wasn't going to do, and that was write to her and ask her to return it by post, for if she was nettled in any way she was just as likely to send it to his home address. And then how would he explain it away? Finally, he knew that the only thing was to do what the letter suggested and go to the house for it. Having made up his mind on what course to take he knew he mustn't put it off; that would just be piling up the agony; he must settle this business tonight. So he phoned Esther and told her not to hold up the meal as he had some outdoor business to attend to and would be a little late. The staff left the office at five o'clock but he didn't leave until a quarter to six, gauging that this would give her ample time to get home. One other thing he was careful not to do, and that was to drive up to her door. He left the car at the bottom end of Carey Street, then went through the Cut, no longer knee deep in snow but brittle underfoot now with ash. When, following his knock, he heard one female voice call out and another answer he hesitated whether to turn and run into the darkness. But tooJate; the door opened and a woman said, "Yes?" He was standing in the shadow and she in the light. He took her to be about forty, and she was as fair as her daughter was dark, and instantly he summed her up. "Mrs. Ray?" "Yes." Her tone was intended to appear refined but resulted in being mincing. "I would like to have a word with your daughter if I may." "Oh. Oh, come in. Come in. You're Mr.... ?" "Blenheim." "Oh yes, yes. Betty's told me about you, lots. Come in, Mr. Blenheim. Oh, come in. Betty I Betty dear, here's Mr. Blenheim. " After closing the door she went before him along the passage, her arm extended, ushering him into the room like a stage servant before a personage. Betty was standing at the bedroom door. She had a comb in her hand and after looking at him for a moment she began combing her hair, then said casually,-Be with you in a tick. Sit down. " "I ... I can't stay." As he spoke the bedroom door closed and Mrs. Ray, smiling with every feature of her over-made-up face, said, "Oh, do sit down for a minute, Mr. Blenheim. She always likes to tidy up o^^. oi^ o u^u'll1 me uiiii. c. jlou get sucKy, aon't your' So do sit down; you might as well get off your feet. " She was wagging her head at him. "You're quite better now? Betty told me you had been ill. It was the day in the snow. You had a time of it, hadn't you? It was very good of you to bring her home. She told me all about it." Did she? he thought. I wonder. And yet he wouldn't put it past her. He could see them sitting on this couch here roaring their heads off. He stared at the woman. He knew the label Esther would put on her after just one glance. Common. And if Elsie saw her she would go further. "Common as muck, Mr. Blenheim," she' would say. "Common as muck. An old tart." Like mother, like daughter. They were a couple of tarts. Yet Betty had a better camouflage . as yet. Anyway, she had deceived him. But perhaps in a way he was easily deceived. Mrs. Ray was now adjusting an ear-ring the size of a walnut; she was looking into the mirror above the mantelpiece and talking to him through it. "We don't see much of each other, Betty and me; it's lonely for her. I'm so happy when she gets a nice friend." She paused here and let her eyes rest on his before going on, "You see, I'm on twelve till seven one week and six thirty till midnight, or sometimes later, another. I'm at the Three Dolls, you know, on the main road. It's a restaurant like, and does a night show. Very popular. Very popular with motorists. I don't mind the twelve o'clock shift but I always feel a bit worried about the late shift, leaving Betty you know. But when she has a friend, I don't worry. It's a comfort. There was a solo he sang with the phrase repeated throughput "Holy, holy, holy. Lord God of Hosts', now he found himself saying just that " Holy, holy, holy. Lord God of Hosts . " It was strange. Although he went to church every Sunday he had never prayed very much, and of latter years not at all. When the prayers were being said he was thinking of the next hymn and hoping yet once again that Robbins would not drag the end out; or he was going over his solo, singing it in his mind. But now he was praying, actually praying; " Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of Hosts, get me out of this. " "Oh there you are, dear. Oh, that's nice. I always say you suit red. " Out of habit Harry had risen to his feet when Betty entered the room, and now he stared at her in the tight fitting red woollen dress and red mules as she came towards him. She didn't speak as she sat herself on the couch, but her mother said, "Well, I'll have to be away; time's flying, as the man said as he threw the, clock at his wife." This quip was followed by a high kick of a laugh; then hurrying across the room, she added, "It'll never do if I miss that bus." She was going into the bedroom when she swung round. "Wait till we get that car, eh Betty? And we will, won't we, girl? " "We will, Main." Betty jerked her head towards her mother and smiled; then she turned and stared at Harry. She stared at him for a full minute, during which he could find nothing to say. Her scrutiny unnerved him; and when at last she spoke, she said softly, "It's nice seeing you again," he was more unnerved still. Mrs. Ray came hurrying back into the room. She was wearing a short green coat with a fuzzy fur collar turned up high and over her bouffant hair was lightly dragged a chiffon scarf. "Well, I'm off, so I must say good-bye, Mr. Blenheim. It's been very nice meeting you." He was on his feet once more, watching her pulling on a pair of fur-lined gloves, and when she smiled widely at him and said, "Now, don't you be a stranger, just pop in when you feel like it. I know our house must appear homely and not what you're used to, but you're very welcome to' what we have," he groaned to himself. And following on "Glory, Glory, Glory," he added "Oh Christ 1' and the exclamation now had no connection with prayer.. "Bye-bye, ducks." "Bye-bye, Mam ... Be good." "Well, you know your main." Mrs. Ray went out laughing. And when the front door closed Betty looked up to where Harry was standing some distance away on the hearth rug, and her face unsmiling and tight now, she said, "You didn't think much of her, did you?" '. What do you mean? " "Just what I say. You almost turned your nose up at her." "xouve got a vivid imagination. Mow do you know what I think.?" "I happen to know men, that's how I know. And you dubbed her straightaway as a cheap piece, didn't you?" "I did nothing of the sort," he lied firmly. "Well, you could have fooled me." She uncrossed her legs, then re-crossed them, then said almost vehemently, "She's been good to me, has Mam. She's worked for me all me life until I could do it for me self She could have let me go into a factory as soon as I left school and that would have made things easier for her, but no, she wanted something different for me, so she sent me to the typing college and I passed out top. Do y'know that? Top! And if it wasn't for all the old frozen-faced nits in this town, especially in Peamarsh's, holding down the good jobs I'd have an office of me own instead of being in the blasted pool. But once the Miss Coles and Batemans get, in they're there for life; old maids' last hope." He didn't see what all this had to do with his visit, but one thing was evident, she was bitter about her position. He said, "You could always move; there are always vacancies of the kind you're after in Newcastle." "Yes, I know I could, but I don't want to leave me mam; this is her home, she's made it." "It's very commendable of you." "Oh, come off it." She swung round, turning her head fully away from him and looking across the room, leaving him feeling bewildered. She was talking from such a personal plane that one would have imagined that they had known each other for years. She turned her face towards him again, and now she was smiling, and her whole attitude underwent a lightning change as she said softly, "Come and sit down, I'm being naggy." "I... I can't stay." "You can for ten minutes." She patted the couch. "Just ten minutes. Some on, sit down. " It was impossible to refuse her request, and when he took a seat once again on the couch she curled her legs up under her as she had done on the first occasion they had sat together, but she didn't snuggle up to him or tease him; her tactics were different tonight. She kept her distance as she said, still softly, "It's 78 nice seeing you again. " "Now, Betty." Her name had a strange sound on his lips, and as he paused she put in, "Now, now, don't get panicky, relax. I'm not going to eat you, you know." She gave a little giggle. "You're scared stiff of me, and it's funny." "I'm not scared stiff of you." He jerked his head to the side. "Only there's no point in going on with this." "Why?" The question was quiet. "Because'--he brought his head round to her again" --I'm a married man with three children, the eldest one not much younger than you. " "Are you happily married?" "Yes, I'm happily married." "I don't believe you. You've got a son seventeen, so you've been married eighteen years or more. It doesn't last that long, not eighteen months in some cases. You prove to me one middleaged man in this town who's happily married and I'll enter a convent. And look, I'm tellin' you I'm not talkin' from hearsay, I'm talking from know say I know a lot of men in this town, and I could spill some beans if I liked. But there's one thing about me, I'm not spiteful, I never have been. I don't want to cause trouble for anybody, but what I do want'--she paused, and, her hands gripping her forearms across her chest, she repeated, " But what I do want, Harry she drew out his name, paused again, then ended, 'is a bit of happiness. That's all I'm asking, just a bit of happiness. " What could he say to this? For a moment he felt sorry for her, in sympathy with her, and he wished, he wished deeply that it was in him to make her happy, but he knew that if he was going to have an affair it wouldn't be with someone like her. She was compelling him to look into her eyes as she went on talking. "I liked you from the first time I clapped eyes on you, but mind, mind, I never planned anything, I just thought it was heaven sent that snow and you bringing me back, like an answer to a prayer that you didn't know you had prayed. You know ... sort of. After you had gone that night I knew I'd frightened you. You had never been with a woman had you, except, well, your wife? You knew nothing about it. To all . ---- "-- -" ^^. An*^ ^^aj. aA otKiigii*. uul ui a monastery. I know I'm a bit wild when I get going but that's me. I'm warm inside, hot, boiling in fact, like them volcanoes, just like them, burstin' out every now and again. " She shrugged her shoulders now and grinned slyly at him. "But I don't need to tell you, do I? Anyway, there it is. " She leaned back from him and now stated flatly, " I like you; I want to be friends with you. " He turned from her and, leaning his elbow on his knee cupped his forehead; and from this position he muttered, "It's impossible, quite impossible." "Are you afraid your wife might get to know?" When he didn't answer she went on, "Nobody would ever see you come here; we're very fortunately placed in this house. You just need nip through the Cut and you're in. There's only six houses in the row and from when they come in at half-past five until they start to go out to the clubs or some place at half-past six the street's empty. And in front there's only a warehouse. It's a hundred to one chance you'd ever be seen, so what are you frightened of? And look, look, don't think me mana would say anything; me mam's the soul of discretion as they say." He almost sprang to his feet now and, looking down at her, said, "It's impossible. You must take this for final. Apart from being a married man, we work in the same office. Then besides being a member of the church I'm in different societies in the town. What you're offering is most generous, I realise that, but I just cannot accept, I cannot be a hypocrite. You know for a fact that if I hadn't drunk so much on Christmas Eve the ... the incident would never have happened. Now'--he undid the top button of his waistcoat, then did it up again, before adding, "If you'll be good enough to return my watch I'll be grateful, and ... and we can ..." "And we can forget it ever happened." She was on her feet confronting him now, her eyes almost black, her mouth tight. " "You know what you are, you're a weak-bellied, pious bastard. That's what you are. Now you listen to me, Mr. Blenheim. What if I have a baby?" He had heard about people blanching, but now he was experiencing it. He felt the blood draining from his face down through his stomach. Even his words seemed white as he whispered, "You're not...?" "I don't know yet. It could happen quite easily; I wasn't prepared. I'm over me time, so I don't know. " Holy, holy, holy. Lord God of Hosts . "As things stand I think I'll just hang on to your watch, sort of mind it for a little while longer." "I want my watch, and I want it now." "Oh, Mr. Blenheim, stop shouting; somebody might hear you next door. I know she's deaf but she has friends come in." He was no longer feeling blanched; the blood was pounding in his head. This was the kind of situation that other men got themselves into too. From his own experience he had known of a number in his time; one had been a close friend, a churchgoing man and a visitor to the house. Esther had liked him; she always thought Bill Caldwell such a genuine man. That was until he had got himself mixed up with a young married woman and the affair had ended in divorce. After that his name had never been mentioned again. Esther didn't hold with divorce; what God had joined together was a holy law with her. He had the wild idea of thrusting this blackmailing little tart aside and dashing into the bedroom and searching for his watch, and he might have done just that except that he knew that to prevent him she would come to grips with him, physically and he wanted no more of that. He picked up his hat and, without looking at her again, made for the door; and when he reached it she called, "I'll write to you when I want to see you again." As once before he had stood at the end of the Cut and wiped the sweat from his face, so now he stopped at the same spot again and stood gasping as if he had sprinted from the house. What was he to do? He should get advice, tell someone . and make himself out to be as she said, a weak-bellied pious bastard. And what if she should be . He couldn't even think the word pregnant. He saw his whole ordered world in fragments about him. He saw the chaos after exposure. He saw the reactions of the individual members of his family. First Esther; the ground cut from beneath her, her ideals and lofty thinking sullied by the sordid affair. But the reaction he knew vv llctL WUU1U U be? Wrath, yes, indignation, and of course the demand that the whole affair be hushed up for his daughter's sake; and for the remainder of his life he'd be under his thumb. And all this because he took a girl home in the snow. It didn't seem possible. If someone had put the situation to him as a hypothetical case he would have said the whole thing was highly improbable. He got into his car and drove home . The house was quiet when he entered the hall and after he had hung up his things in the cloakroom he went into the sitting-room, where Esther was sitting reading. She laid down her book and stared into his face, saying, "You're looking pea ky again. Why did you work so late when you're not feeling too fit?" "Oh, I'm all right." He went to the fire and held out his hands to the flames and asked, "Where's everybody?" "Terry's gone to his piano lesson, John's doing his homework, and Gail's having tea with Anna Birkett. By the way, are you going to choir practice?" "Yes, yes, I suppose so. I'd forgotten about it for the moment." "I told Gail you might pick her up and bring her home before you went, but then I didn't know you were going to be so late." "I'll go straight off after I've had a bite and fetch her," he said flatly. "Good, I hate her to be out alone in the dark. I'll get your meal now, I've kept it hot." As she brought his meal into the dining-room, she said, "Father rang a short while ago. Colonel Callow's housekeeper had just been on the phone to him. The Colonel wants him to go through again for the week-end, so he won't be coming into the office tomorrow and will likely stay in York until Monday night. He said he thinks the old fellow's lonely." "Hasn't he any relations of his own?" Harry asked, and she answered, "No; I understand not. He's lived with the old house keeper and a man-servant for years." "Is he wealthy?" Harry asked this question thinking it might give the reason for his-father-in-law putting himself out for an old man. "I don't really know. But he must have some money although 82 HE UUl-All 1-