1953 - The Things Men Do (3 page)

Gloria's five pound note was burning in my pocket. I took it out, knowing that I wouldn't feel so guilty about her if I spent the money on Ann.

"Get a new pair. I've hired space in the garage for a car. This is part of a month's payment. Go ahead and get them."

Ann's eyes opened wide.

"Oh no. I was only joking. We can't afford to buy clothes just yet, Harry. We owe . . ."

"Never mind what we owe. This is something out of the blue. I'm not putting it through the books. Go ahead and get them. Get them tomorrow."

"But we must be sensible . . ."

"Oh, for God's sake! Don't argue! Get them!"

I shoved the note into her hand and went downstairs.

For some minutes I sat at my desk, feeling hot and irritable and a little sick. I never shouted at Ann before. I have never criticized her before. I could still see her startled, hurt expression as I left her. I thought of how Gloria and I had stood like conspirators when we had heard Ann's voice. The writing was on the wall. This had got to stop. When Gloria, came with her car I'd tell her I'd changed my mind. If she garaged her car here, I'd be seeing her often. I remembered the look she had given me when she had flicked away that imaginary speck of fluff. Women don't look like that unless they mean trouble. I felt something cold and wet run clown my face.

Just to think of her that way made me sweat.

Tim Greensleeves pushed open the door.

"Will there be anything else, Mr. Collins? I've checked the petrol. There's enough for this week. If there's nothing else, I'll get off home."

"That's okay, Tim."

He looked at me, a puzzled expression in his eyes.

"Well, good night, Mr. Collins."

"Good night."

When he had gone, I got up and put on a white coat just in case anyone wanted petrol, propped open the office door so I could keep an eye on the garage and started work on the ledger again.

I worked half-heartedly for half an hour. My mind wasn't concentrating. I tried to keep Gloria out of my thoughts, but she kept forcing her way in until I tossed down my pencil and pushed back my chair with a grunt of irritation.

I went down the long aisle to the street entrance and stood for some minutes watching the traffic edge past. The traffic was heavy all day, and Eagle Street was used as a backway to Piccadilly, to avoid the traffic lights of Regent Street.

Across the way was a postal sorting office: two mail vans were parked in front of the entrance, and postmen were busy loading sacks of mail into the vans.

I watched them at work without interest then suddenly spotting Bill Yates as he dumped two mail bags on the pavement I waved to him.

Bill had been in my battalion during the war. We had fought together at Caen, had been wounded on the same day, and had spent a month in the same hospital ward. We had even been demobilized on the same day, and soon after I had opened the garage, I had discovered he was one of the permanent staff at the sorting office, across the road.

He came over, a broad grin on his red, humorous face.

He was a little man, nearing forty, with powerful shoulders and short stocky legs.

"Hello, Harry: how goes it?"

"Pretty much as usual."

He winked.

"Don't kid me. Who was that piece I saw come out a while back? Blimey! She'd got a dairy on her that had me throwing myself out of the window."

"She wanted to garage her car here."

"She did? So I'll be seeing more of her, shall I? Don't often get a chance of studying form down this street. Phew! It's lucky you're a respectably married man. Between you and me, Harry, she wouldn't be safe if she garaged her car with me."

"Should have thought you had got beyond all that by now." I tried to smile, but it didn't come off. "What are you looking so pleased about?" I was anxious to change the subject. "Don't tell me you've got a rise?"

"More than that: promotion. I'm Guard Yates from Monday. No more shoving ruddy bags around. I just sit in the van and look menacing. That's right up my alley."

"Congratulations, Bill. What have you got to guard?"

"You mightn't believe it," Bill said, grinning, "but every so often we carry valuables in these 'ere vans, and when we do, yours truly in the future will look after the driver and see no one gets the wrong ideas about the stuff. It's a pretty cushy job, come to that; a lot better than what I've been doing."

"Not so cushy if there's a hold-up."

"I wouldn't mind a little excitement. Remember the old days? Remember that time when you and me . . ."

One of the postmen bawled from across the road, "Hey, Bill! What do you think you're doing? Come on and get stuck into it."

Bill's face clouded.

"The whole blooming lot's jealous of me now. Well, if these vans are going to get off tonight, I'd better do something about it. No one else but me does any work. Be seeing you, Harry."

He went back to the van.

When I returned to my office I found Ann there. She had changed into a frock and had brushed her hair. The frock was one she had made. She was clever with her needle. I don't know how I would have managed if she hadn't been able to make all her clothes.

"Where did the perfume come from, Harry?"

I felt myself change colour. Ann's eyes looked questioningly at me; surprise showing on her face.

"Perfume? I don't smell anything. Perhaps—possibly Miss Selby had perfume. I didn't notice it. I meant to tell you, Ann. You remember the girl I gave a lift to the other night: the one who makes lingerie? She came in just now and wanted to garage her car here. She's paying seven ten a month. I thought it would be a good idea."

"That's wonderful!" Ann's face brightened. "You know, Harry, we've lots of room here. Couldn't -we get other people to garage their cars here?"

I looked sharply at her.

"It's not a lock-up. Most people want lock-ups."

"Well, she didn't."

"She's not fussy. Most people want them."

I lit a cigarette awl sat on the edge of the desk.

"Bit of luck really that I gave her a lift." I tried to be casual but it didn't come off. "Give the place a bit of tone to have a Jaguar here."

Ann looked at me then stared down at the floor.

"Yes."

We sat for a long moment in silence while I wracked my brains to think of something to relieve the sudden tension.

"By the way, Bill's got promotion. They've made him a guard."

"Have they? Is that good? What does he have to do?"

"Sit with the driver and keep off bandits." I grinned. "Bill says it's a cushy job. Trust him to find himself something cushy."

"It sounds rather dangerous."

"I don't know. We haven't had a mail robbery for years as far as I can remember."

"Harry . . ."

I looked at her.

"I've been making a list of the outstanding bills."

"Have you? Bad?"

She nodded.

"Eighty-nine pounds."

I whistled.

"It can't be as much as that."

"It is, Harry. I've put that five pounds in the petty cash box. We must be sensible. We'll want every penny we can scrape up."

"How about the monthly accounts? What do they look like?"

"If they all pay their bills it'll be worth about fifty pounds, a little more perhaps. We shouldn't have bought all that new oil. We're not selling it."

"That damned traveller! He'd talk a rat into buying poison. Well, they'll have to wait for their money."

"I was wondering. If you got rid of Tim, couldn't I take over the pumps?"

"You? Now look, Ann, your place is running the home. You do enough as it is. Besides, you don't know anything about car engines. No, that's not the solution. We can't afford to be without Tim. I've got to stop waiting for trade and do something about it. I've got to get an idea."

Her brown eyes became suddenly alert "What sort of idea, Harry?"

"I don't know. I'll have to think about it."

We sat in silence for a while, then she said, "Do you really mind me wearing those slacks? There's still a lot of life in them, and I've got to think of my stockings."

"No, I don't mind. Please yourself." I spoke impatiently because I was thinking what Gloria had said: I must think about it. I might have an idea for you.

"Then I'll go on wearing them."

I scarcely heard her.

Could Gloria find me something? She might put something in my way. She might know the right people. She might even have influence.

"Harry . . ."

I looked up, frowning.

"What is it?"

"Is Miss Selby smart? Does she wear good clothes?"

I felt a little chill run up my spine. I looked at her and she looked at me, and my eyes gave ground.

"I don't know. I didn't notice. Why?"

"I just wondered." Ann's Voice sounded suddenly tired, "I'll go up and get the supper ready."

I sat motionless, listening to her footfalls as she climbed the stairs. I stared down at my clenched fists, and hated myself.

chapter three

I
was in a pretty sour mood when I rolled out of bed the following morning and went into the kitchen to put on the kettle before shaving.

After I had closed up the garage the previous evening, Bill Yates had looked in. He had brought with him a couple of pounds of sausages, some chips from the local fish shop and two quart bottles of beer. He announced he intended to celebrate his promotion with us in the appropriate style.

He was in a festive spirit, but we were not. I knew Ann was feeling hurt, and I had an uneasy idea she realized I had been mentally comparing her to Gloria Selby and had found her wanting. Of course she was right. I had been a thoughtless fool to have criticized her get-up I knew she loved pretty things, and wouldn't have worn that old sweater and slacks if she had anything better to put on, but coming on her like that after seeing Gloria's smartness had set me off on the wrong foot before I could stop myself.

We had made an effort to appear cheerful for Bill's, sake, but the party hadn't been much of a success. I had too much on my mind, what with my debts, Gloria, and I knowing how badly I had hurt Ann, to do more than make a feeble attempt to join in Bill's hilarity. Ann, who was obviously tired and depressed, at least did make a better showing than I did.

We were both pretty relieved when Bill finally took himself off. He was so pleased with his new job and with the supper he had provided he didn't seem to notice how depressed we were.

While I went down to lock up after him, Ann turned in.

She had her back to my side of the bed when I came up, and pretended to be asleep.

I got into bed beside her, and we lay like that in the darkness, not speaking, both pretending to be asleep, and both feeling miserable and angry with each other.

I was hoping she would turn over and come into my arms as she always did when we had a bit of a tiff, but this time she didn't, and that made me more angry, and I was still angry when I finally drifted off to sleep.

She didn't wake up when I got out of bed at six o'clock, and as I shaved, I thought miserably that I was in for a pretty grim day.

I sold the usual amount of petrol to the three vans before they set off on their routing run, then I spent the rest of the time until Tim arrived, clearing a space for Gloria's car.

I had finally decided I had to let her garage her car here.

I had taken her money and had given her a receipt. I couldn't change my mind now: I had left it too late. Besides, I couldn't go on much longer as I was going on, and I was almost sure she would do something for me. I didn't know what, but I had convinced myself she had taken a liking to me and had some idea that would help me out of the mess I was in.

Common sense told me I was fooling myself, but I stamped that thought out of my mind. She was my last hope, I kept telling myself. I had to see her again just in case she had thought of an idea that would solve my problem. But I knew all the time I was using this hope as an excuse, and my conscience was pricking me pretty badly.

It was cold and wet for a mid-June morning: a day to match my mood. Rain came in through the open doors of the garage and formed muddy, oily pools just inside the entrance.

A few minutes to eight, Tim came in, pushing his bicycle.

He was wearing a yellow mackintosh cape, and his tow-coloured hair was plastered flat by the rain.

"Morning, Mr. Collins."

"Filthy morning, Tim."

"It's pretty bad."

He put his bicycle against the wall and peeled off his cape. I saw him looking at the space I had cleared.

"You might clean the floor here, Tim. I've rented this space to Miss Selby for her Jaguar."

His owl like eyes blinked.

"I'll do it right away. Was that the young lady who came yesterday?"

"That's right."

I went into the office before he could ask any more questions. When I had unlocked the till and the desk, I went upstairs to breakfast.

The smell of coffee reminded me I was hungry.

"Hello, Ann."

She was wearing the old sweater and the slacks, but she had tied her hair up with a piece of red ribbon. I suddenly realized what a nice little figure she had: something I had forgotten to appreciate these past few months.

"Hello, Harry."

She was dishing up a couple of fish cakes and didn't look in my direction.

"Smells good."

"Yes."

I sat down at the table and waited, looking at her, wanting her to look at me, hoping she wasn't going to sulk.

She brought the plate over and set it before me.

"Sleep well, darling?"

I slid my arm around her hips and pulled her against me.

"All right, Harry. Did you?"

I looked at her.

"Not particularly. I'm sorry about yesterday, Ann. Will you try to forget about it?"

She touched my face lightly.

"I'll forget about it."

I pushed back my chair and pulled her on to my knee.

"There was nothing to it, Ann. I'm just rattled. Things aren't working out. Take no notice. It'll be all right."