A Kind of Loving (47 page)

In a bit it dawns on me I'm feeling randy and I reckon it's
the beer and the fact that what with one thing and another I've
been on starvation rations for the last three or four months. I
wonder if Ingrid's asleep and if she'll come the don't-touch-me
stuff if I go up and slip into bed and turn her over.

I get up and throw my cig into the fire. I fetch the fireguard and put it up and switch off the lights in the kitchen and the
sitting-room, taking a last look at the patch on the carpet before
I do. I know Ma Rothwell isn't going to like that, but I can't help it. I can't even be bothered to think about tomorrow. I
reckon after tonight we can't carry on as per, but I can't be
bothered thinking about it. All I want is to get into Ingrid's
warm bed and make love to her like I've only just found out about
it.

I go upstairs and start getting undressed by the landing light
and I never think to look at the bed till I'm down to my underw
ear. Then I see that the clothes are pulled about and the pillow
dented, but there's no Ingrid. I remember now sort of half-hearing voices while I was downstairs but I didn't pay any attention. I go out on the landing and knock on Ma Rothwell's
door.

'Ingrid.'

There's no answer.

I knock a bit louder. 'Ingrid.'

Ma Rothwell's voice says, 'Go away.'

'I want Ingrid.'

'I won't let my daughter sleep with a drunken sot like you,'
the old bitch says.

'You won't
what?
'
This does it. I bang on the door with the
side of my fist. 'I want my wife. Send her out, d'y'ear. Send her
out.'

There's the sound of low voices, then Ingrid says something
from the other side of the door.

'Go to bed, Vic.'

'You come on in here, where you belong.'

'I'm staying in here tonight.'

'I'll come in an' fetch you if you don't come out.'

'You can't get in; the door's locked.'

'Locked?'
I try the handle. 'Dammit, what the hell are you playing at? D'y'ear? I said what the hell are you playing at?'

I thump on the door. I'm really going now.

'You'll wake the neighbours, Vic.'

'Bugger the neighbours. Let them see to their own troubles. Come on now, come out.'

'For the last time,' Ma Rothwell says. 'She's not leaving this
room tonight.'

'All right, then, you old cow,' I shout, 'you've done it. She's
made her choice an' now I know where I stand.'

I storm back into our bedroom and slam the door. I'd pack
up and get out now, except I've no place to go. I finish getting
undressed and I can hardly fasten my pyjama buttons I'm that
wild.

I get into bed and lie there swearing in the dark, and then in a
bit I cool down and begin to think about it all. This is what
it all comes to, is it? I think. Bawling and swearing at midnight like people in a slum. This is where the dreams end ... I never
wanted much in the first place, just a girl I could love, who loved
me, one I could be pals with besides loving her and all that. Not
much to want. Oh, I know I've brought it all on myself. I
shouldn't have carried on with Ingrid once I knew how things
were. But still, thousands must do it and get away with it and we
have to go and slip up the first time. And now what happens tomorrow? Do I clear out and leave her? I can't stay now, that's
for sure. I
won't
stay, and that's for certain. I've had what's
commonly known as a bellyful.

I fall asleep thinking I won't and I have the most weird dream
I ever remember. I'm walking along an ordinary street and I go
into what looks like an ordinary pub. In fact it's the pub I
met Percy in tonight. Only inside it's like a big hall, so big you
can't see the walls, and there's a kind of swirly mist all round.
As I'm standing there wondering what's going to happen I hear a
horrible scream that dies away in a moan. I'm scared stiff, and all of a sudden the blonde from the pub comes out of the mist,
walking a foot off the floor. She's stark naked and she's reaching
out for me with hands that have fingernails six inches long and
painted blood-red. It's the way she's looking at me that starts me
running. There's pure murder on her face, it's all twitching and
twisting, and I see that it isn't paint on her nails at all, but blood,
dripping and dripping. I'm running and running and making no
progress because my shoes weigh about fifty pounds apiece, and
all the time I can feel this raving bint gaining on me. And just as them great sharp nails are clawing out for me, I wake up.

I'm hanging head down over the foot of the bed and the eider
down and sheets are all over the floor. I'm in a cold sweat and
my heart's thumping away like billy-ho. It's half past four. I
tidy up and climb back into bed with a cig. I don't remember
putting the cig out before I fall asleep again.

When I wake up the next time it's half past six and I know
what I'm going to do. I get dressed with fifty little elves tapping away with hammers inside my head, but cut out washing and
shaving for fear of waking the two of them in the next room. I pack as much of my stuff as I can into one case and open the
window and drop it into the garden. Down in the kitchen I find half a bottle of milk and I swig this. I collect my raincoat from
where I dropped it in the front room last night, put it on, and
go and open the back door. As I step out and pull the door shut
behind me I hear the Yale lock snap and I think, Now, it's done. No turning back now even if I wanted to. I collect the case from
the front garden, trying to remember what I was thinking about
to drop it out like that instead of bringing it down the stairs with
me, and walk off down the steps to the gate and down the road.

CHAPTER 8

I

As I come into the drive between the stone gateposts with the
big stone balls on top I'm wondering what I'm going to say to her,
and somehow, now, going to see Chris to tell her I've made a
muck of it all and chucked the sponge in is the worst feeling of
all. They might not even be up, I think, and I'll feel pretty silly
then. I look at my watch and it's just after a quarter past seven.

I ring the bell over their card and in a couple of minutes the
door opens and there's David in his pyjamas with a green Tootal
dressing-gown with white spots over them.

'Hello, David.'

He looks gone out for a second as he sees me and the case
standing there at the crack of dawn. Then he rises to it and says,
' Good morning, Vic. Come to spend your holidays?'

'If you'll have me.'

He stands to one side and lets me in and shuts the door behind
me. He shivers. 'Ugh, a bit raw this morning.'

'Is Chris up yet?'

'Yes, she's getting breakfast ready.'

I know he's wondering what it's all about and probably making
a good guess, but he's too polite to start noseying and he just
follows me up the stairs, saying something else about the weather
till we get to the door, then he goes in first and calls out, 'Here's
Vic, Chris.'

Chris comes into the kitchen doorway with a coffee pot in her hands. She's got a pale blue dressing-gown or housecoat thing on, with a tight bodice and a high neck and a skirt that
touches the floor. She says hello, Vic, not turning a hair, though I can tell her mind's beginning to tick over as well. She says something about the milk boiling over and disappears back into the kitchen.

'Sit down, Vic,' David says. 'Take your coat off. You've plenty
of time before you're due at the shop, haven't you?'

'Bags.' .

I take my coat off and David takes it out and hangs it in
their little lobby while I sit down. They've got the electric fire on because I suppose they don't bother to light a coal fire till evening with them both being out all day.

David comes back and hangs about a minute, reckoning not
to look at me; then he says he'll go and help Chris with the tray,
and beetles off out to the kitchen, leaving me on my own.

'Will you have a cup of coffee, Vic?' Chris calls out.

'Please.'

She sticks her head round the door. 'Have you had any break
fast?'

'Well, no, I haven't, act'ally.'

'Boiled egg and toast go down all right?'

'Grand.'

Her head vanishes and I look round the room. All of a sudden
I'm near to crying. I think about Chris and David and Ingrid
and me, and I've all on not to let go. I'm all right again by the
time David comes through with the tray, though, and in a
minute we're sitting down at the table and I'm wolfing the egg and
toast. It crosses my mind that if this was a picture they'd have me
poking about in my grub and looking miserable till somebody
asked me what was wrong. As it is, nobody says a dicky bird yet
and I shift the egg and toast in no time, I'm that famished. I haven't had a bite since that pork pie last night and you can't
count that because it ended up on Ma Rothwell's carpet.

Well Chris holds off and chats with David about this and that
till I've finished eating and got my third cup of coffee in front of
me. Then she hands me a cig and as I'm having the first drag of
the day she comes at me straight on.

'Well, Vic?'

'What?'

'What's the trouble? You didn't just drop in on your way to the shop, did you?'

'No.'

David pushes his chair back and gets up. 'I'll go and shave.'

'You can stop and listen if you want to,' I tell him. 'You'll
hear all about it later, anyway.'

'No, really,' he says, and gives me his little grin.' You two have
a chat. I should be getting ready anyway.'

I start rolling the ash off the end of my cig on to the plate,
wondering where to begin. Chris pushes an ashtray across to me,
watches me for a minute, then makes the opening for me,

'Is it you and Ingrid?'

I nod, without looking at her. 'I've left her.'

'What d'you mean? You mean you just walked out on her this morning?'

I nod again. 'My case is in the hall.' She's looking straight at me but I still can't look back.

'What brought this on?'

'That bloody woman,' I say. 'She brought it on. I just couldn't stand any more. It wouldn't have been so bad if Ingrid had been on my side, but she's right under her mother's thumb."

Chris just sits and looks at me. I sneak a quick look at her
and see the wheels turning behind her eyes.

'I had a bit of a row with Ingrid last night and went out and
met an old mate of mine. I was fed-up so I got plastered. When
I got back Mrs Rothwell was waiting up for me and I told her a
few things I'd been saving up.'