A Kind of Loving (17 page)

'Well now you know,' Willy says.

'Aye, I do.' I lift my glass and have a drink. The ale's cold and
refreshing just the way I like it. I haven't enjoyed a drink as
much for a long time. Still, I'm half wishing I hadn't met Willy because the way the conversation's gone I feel a proper Sammy.

' Mebbe you were a bit hasty for her,' Willy says, watching me.
'Scared her off.'

'I never laid a finger on her.'

'Well you were too slow, then.'

'Well... we did a spot of neckin', y'know. But I wouldn't ha'
dreamed o' trying anything else. Not with this one. She's not like
that.'

'Not like what?'Willy says.

'Well... she's different.'

'How's she different?' Willy says. 'She's got two at the front
and one in the middle, hasn't she, like all the rest?'

I don't like this kind of talk where Ingrid's concerned and I feel
my face tighten.' She's a decent bird, Willy, that's what I mean.'

'Decent enough to leave you standin' on a comer, you mean?'
Willy says.

'Mebbe she got held up or summat.'

'Mebbe she dropped dead after tea or summat,' Willy says.

'Oh, belt up, Willy,' I say, and have another drink. Willy's
glass is already empty.

'Okay,' Willy says; 'we won't fall out about a bird. Specially
one 'at doesn't turn up. Let's have another pint.'

'No, let's beat it.' I've bought the ones we've just drunk so I
can say this without it looking as though I'm trying to skip my
round. 'We might miss the start of the big picture.'

This Western's all about Wyatt Earp, the famous Marshal, and
Doc Holliday and their fight with the Clanton gang at the O.K.
Corral. I enjoy it, especially the last bit where they're all going at
it hammer and tongs blowing the daylights out of one another.
They look as though they really mean it. Real peevish, they get.
Anyway, it takes me out of myself for a bit and there's times
while I'm watching it when I might never have known any bint called Ingrid Rothwell. But once we're outside again in the cold
it all comes back.

'We've time for a quick 'un afore they close,' Willy says.
We're standing on the causeway in front of the pictures, making
the people coming out down the steps walk round
vs.
'Naw, I
don't really feel like it, Willy. I think I'll beetle off home.'

'I was thinking o' going on to the Gala Rooms after,' Willy
says. 'Why don't you come on? Forget about this bint an' we'll
pick some fresh talent up.'

I run my shoe along the edge of the step. 'Naw, I think I'll go
an' get to bed.'

Willy looks at me. 'Gi'n you a turn, han't she? You must ha'
been getting serious.'

'Naw, it's not that, Willy, honest. I've had a hard day at the
shop, that's all. Been on me feet since nine o'clock this morning.
I don't feel like ploughing round a dance-floor now.' I could have
done it with Ingrid, though, on feet as light as air.

'Well, just as you like, tosh,' Willy says. 'I'll be seein' ye, then.'

'Aye, be seein' ye, Willy. Adios!'

'Boners' noses,' Willy says.

The bus I catch doesn't go up the hill and when I get off at the
corner I catch the smell offish and chips and I cross the road and
go into the shop and buy a fish and four pennorth of chips. I
sprinkle them with salt and vinegar and eat them out of the paper
as I'm going up the hill. I really like fish and chips and there's
no better way of eating them than in the open air, straight out of
the pan, all piping hot. These are so hot they nearly burn my
mouth and I break the batter, all goldy brown, round the fish and
let it cool in the fresh air. I have to hold them away from me
because I've been a bit too liberal with the vinegar and soon it starts seeping through the paper on to my fingers. They last me
till I reach the gate and then I wipe my hands on the paper and
screw it up into a ball and drop-kick it ten yards up the road.

It's half past ten and the Old Lady and the Old Feller are sitting
with the table-lamp on watching television when I go in.

'D'you want some supper?' the Old Lady asks me.

'I've had some fish and chips.'

'You'll want a drink o' something, I suppose?'

'It's okay, don't bother; I'll make some cocoa.'

I go into the kitchen and make the cocoa and bring it back into
the living-room and sit on the sofa at the back and light a fag.

I'm thinking about Ingrid as I watch the picture that's on TV.
I've a feeling I saw it just after the war when I was a nipper. The
Old Man stretches his legs out and sucks at his pipe and the
Old Lady knits away in the dim light. A picture of perfect contentment, you might say.

'Where've you been?' the Old Lady says in a minute and I
know she's got one of her newsy moods on.

'Pictures.'

'By yourself?'

'With Willy Lomas.'

'Willy Lomas? I don't think I know him, do I?'

'He's a mate of mine. I used to go to school with him.'

'Grammar School?'

'No, Elementary.'

She grunts and I think, there, if I'd been out with Ingrid she'd
either have got to know all about it or I'd have had to lie. And
even if everything was all right with Ingrid I wouldn't want the Old Lady
to know about it yet. She hears wedding bells a sight
too soon for my liking. She sets the pace and puts you out of
your own stride.

The Old Man leans over and knocks his pipe out on the grate. 'I don't know why you pay good money to go to t'pictures when you can see 'em at home for nowt.'

'All these are old stuff.'

'What be that? They're pictures just same, aren't they?'

'You can't show colour and Cinemascope on TV.'

'Cinemascope?'

'Wide screen ... bigger.'

He sucks at his empty pipe. 'I don't see as havin' a bigger
screen makes pictures any better,' he says.

I don't bother to argue about it. The picture's finished and there's
a toothpaste ad on and I get up and throw my cig-end in the fire.

' Going up?' the Old Lady says.

'Aye, I'm ready for it. Had a busy day today.'

'You haven't forgotten we're all going to our Christine's for
tea tomorrow?'

'No, I haven't forgotten.'

I say good night and go upstairs. There's a light in Jim's room
and the door's ajar. I go into our bathroom that's like a big cold cave, all pipes and tanks and bare painted walls, and wash my
face and brush my teeth as quick as I can. As I'm coming out
I hear Jim give me a call and I go and stand in his doorway.

'What's up?'

He picks this pale blue envelope out of his book and flicks it
down to the foot of the bed.' Letter for you.'

I pick it up and look at it. I look at my name in this handwriting
and all at once I begin to get excited

'Where d'ye get this?'

'I found it behind the front door as I came to bed. Somebody
must have pushed it in while we were watching television. There's
no stamp on it.'

There's no address on it, either; just my name. I hold myself back from tearing it open there and then.

'Have me mam an' dad seen it?'

'No, I came straight upstairs.' Jim gives me a sly look. 'I wouldn't say it was a man's handwriting, would you?'

I'm grinning at him, grinning all over my face, even though I
don't know what's in the letter yet. "Thanks, lad. I'll remember
you in my will for this.'

'Don't mention it,' Jim says.

'Don't you mention it, either.'

'Mum's the word.'

'That's the ticket.'

I go across the landing and shut my door behind me before I
rip the envelope open and take out this one sheet of matching
notepaper. 'Dear Vic,' it says, 'My cousin decided to catch a
later train and I went with her to Leeds to see her off. The train
was late and it was after half past seven when I got back into
Cressley. I went to where we'd arranged to meet but of course you'd gone. I wondered what on earth you could be thinking of me so I thought I'd better write this letter and explain or you
wouldn't be on speaking terms by Monday. I'll be at the same
place tomorrow night (Sunday) if you can manage it. If you don't
come by 7.15 I'll know you can't get. Hoping you can, Love,
Ingrid.'

That last word jumps out and hits me in the eye. Love!
Love!

I throw the letter up in the air and do a standing jump on to the bed and bounce about like a clown on one of those trampoline
things at the circus. She
hasn't
stood me up. She couldn't help it.
And she sends her love. Her
love!
I jump down and feel in my
back pocket and go back to Jim's room.' You know that speedometer for your bike 'at you're saving up for?' I throw a couple of
half-crowns on to the bed. 'There's five bob towards it.'

I'm back across the landing again before I think that one half-
crown would have been enough. Then I think, Oh, what the hell!
What's money anyway? Good old Jim. Good old me. Good old
everybody, and lovely, lovely Ingrid. Oh, what a lovely tart she is: what a luscious, lovable bint!

II

Sunday afternoon, then, we all troop across town - the Old
Feller, the Old Lady, Jim, and me - to Chris's new place up a
little avenue off Dewsbury Road. It's high up, like our house, and
they've got a view as good as ours only with it being an upstairs
flat they can see it from the living-room and ours only shows from
the bedrooms. Chris and David have only got back from their
honeymoon yesterday and there's kisses and hugs all round when
she opens the door for us. And then we're all invited to look at
the furnishings in the flat that Chris hasn't let any of us see before
because she wanted to keep it all as a surprise for when they were
actually living in. Well it looks real smart and I wouldn't mind a
place like it myself. It's done out in contemporary style with light-
coloured furniture with splayed legs that you catch with your
feet
if
you're not careful and a kind of mauve fitted carpet and
two different pattern papers on the walls. They haven't got a
three-piece suite like ours at home but a couple of easy-chairs and
a studio couch that makes up into a bed if they want to put any
body up for the night. The Old Lady looks round at it all, taking
all in, and says, 'Yes, very nice, love, very nice,' in a tone of voice
that says straight out it
is
very nice if you like that sort of thing
but it isn't her cup of cocoa by any means.
David and the Old Man get together at the window and look
out. "That's what I call a real West Riding view,' the Old Feller
says.'A bit of everything.'