I'm All Right Jack (11 page)

“I suppose not. You mean because the workers have got a cushy billet there already?”

“No, no. Not cushy billet. Human dignity. What the railways are striking about this week. Now, they don’t have to do that on the Russian railways. Incidentally, with prices keep going up
we’re
very near the point when our human dignity’s in whatsaname—jeopardy. Then it’s a case of more money or out. But Missiles can pay all right.”

“I see. Do you think this railway strike’ll go on a long time? If it does I think I’ll buy a small car, now I can afford it.”

“Oh, bound to.”

“Bad luck on the public.”

“Ah, no. Subjectively it might seem like it, but not objectively in the long run, because when the railwaymen get more money they’ll be more efficient, when they get their human dignity. So that’s why you need unions, to look after your dignity.”

“Dad’s always on about his dignity,” said Cynthia, down at last after her wash. “Nice flowers, Stan, thanks. We going up the Speedway?”

“Certainly, if you like, Cynthia.”

“You know
why
I’m always on about human dignity, as you put it?” demanded Kitey peevishly.

“Yes, because of you being under Mum’s thumb,” said Cynthia. “Do come
on
,
Stan. We’ll miss all the races.”

“M
R
M
AHOMMED,”
said Uncle Bertram, “I want you to meet an old friend of mine, Mr Cox.”

“Mister Cox. ’Ow are you?”

“Mustn’t grumble, taking it all round. Mr Mahommed got a drink, has he, Bertie?”

“Yes, he’s nicely fixed, thank you. I wanted you to have a chat with Mr Cox, sir, because he has a rather interesting scheme I thought you might like to hear.”

They had met in the neutral ground of the Siamese Cat, and Cox had joined them after their expensive,
well-lubricated
meal.

“I think it might appeal to you because of its subtlety,” went on Uncle Bertram. “Let’s start with this big order my firm, Missiles, is doing for your government.”

“An urgent order, I must point out,” said Mr
Mahommed
.

“Exactly,” said Uncle Bertram. “One that, how shall I put it? That brooks no delay.”

“Certainly. Vitally important. As we all know, your government gives licences for supply of arms both to my government and to the Solomonians.
Equal
supplies. So we cannot fight each other.”

“Precisely. We call it Maintaining the Balance of Power.”

“And this shipment of rockets must be done quickly or the Solomonians will have superiority and may strike at us.”

“Exactly. Now let us suppose,” said Uncle Bertram, “that my firm could not for some reason supply the order. What would be your reaction?”

Mr Mahommed scowled.

“I must ask you, please don’t joke.”

“No no‚ sir. I’m not joking, but perhaps you might then be interested in what Mr Cox has to say.”

Cox put down his cigar, looked over his shoulder, leaned forward and said: “There’s a little company I happen to have got—Shipshape Harpoons; you won’t’ve heard of it, I bought it up for tax losses a few months ago. It’s not doing much business at the moment, but it’s got the equipment.”

“Mr Cox,” said Mr Mahommed, “no doubt it would be very nice for you to have an order from my government, but Mr Tracepurcel’s firm has already got the order, you see.”

“Very nice too,” observed Cox. “Only let me make a prophecy. Now what I prophesy is, in a couple of weeks, there’s going to be some reason Bertie’s firm can’t do the
job, and then you’ll want a really rush order, and you’ll get a tender in from Shipshape Harpoons to do the job straight away, only it’ll cost you a bit more. At least it’ll cost your government a bit more, about sixty thousand nicker more, which is a nice easy amount to divide into three. Eeny, meany, miney.” He pointed daintily round the table.

Mr Mahommed took a cautious pull at his cigar.

“Very interesting,” he conceded. “And we would get them by the same date? Mm. But I am not quite clear why Mr Tracepurcel’s firm would not be able to fulfil the order.”

“I think I can promise you that,” said Uncle Bertram. “We’ve got one chap who’s a potential troublemaker.” He shook his head sadly. “If he goes on the way he’s going, I can see we’re going to have a strike on our hands.”

“Very sad,” said Cox. “Young Stan always was like that. You got any more of this Five Star, waiter? Good boy.”

“What you got there, then?” asked Knowlesy, as Stanley lifted the lid of his new bubble-car to push it into the cycle shed. “It seems to get you here on time, any old how.”

“I’m beating the rail strike,” said Stanley. “It’s very good, really. It does about a million miles a gallon and I can park it under a shelf in my aunts’ shed. These people used to make fighter aircraft for Hitler and as they had a few of these lids over they make these instead. At least I think that’s what the man said.”

“How much they rush you?” asked Knowlesy.

Stanley told him.

“They saw you coming,” said Knowlesy automatically. “Don’t forget to clock, now you’ve got here. I see you got a second seat behind,” he went on, as Stanley came back from clocking.

“Yes, I’ll be able to take Cynthia out as well.”

“Oh yer. You got as far as asking her to marry you yet?”

“No, not yet.”

“Well, have you got as far as old Bernie Jenkins got?”

“No, certainly not.”

“Well, you’ll get your chance on the works outing.”

“Oh, where to? I hadn’t been going to go.”

“Ramstairs. They go there every year.”

“Oh, the seaside. Yes, I’ll go.”

“Righto. Only I never seen the actual sea yet on these trips. Really speaking, it’s more of a booze-up.”

People seemed determined to recommend books to Stanley. But while he had left Kitey’s
Collective
Childhood 
and
A
Churchman
Looks
Left
so far unopened,
How
to
be
Happy
Though
Married
seemed more to the point, and he began searching it unsuccessfully for any mention of sex. The Rev. Hardy was wholly silent on this subject, filling his book for the most part with curious and largely
unimproving
anecdotes. Stanley read one out to Knowlesy.

“What do you think of this, Knowlesy? ‘It is far better for married people to take a pride in their children than to be like an old lady who had brought up a family of children near a river. A gentleman once said to her: “You must have lived in constant fear that some of them would get drowned.” “Oh no,” replied the old lady. “We only lost three or four that way.”’”

Knowlesy received this in silence.

“Well, go on,” he said at last. “I want to get on with my tea.”

“That’s the lot,” said Stanley. “What do you think of it?”

“I think it’s dead stupid,” said Knowlesy frankly. “Though, mind you, these kids certainly do pile up. You take old Charlie Walton. When he come back from the Army his missus was on at him to have a baby and he reckoned they couldn’t afford it. Well, she kept on at him and in the end he said, OK, just one. So they started one and stone me if she didn’t produce triplets. Well, when old Charlie had been on this gun-site in the Midlands it seems he’d got some girl into trouble and it turned out
she
’ad triplets too, and when the case come up in court the magistrate said there wasn’t any doubt about them being Charlie’s in view of the fact his wife had had the same thing happen to her, and as she was a kindhearted bint she insisted on taking over the other nippers too, so Charlie had a round half dozen to look after just from two what you might call indiscretions. You don’t want to ask him about it, though; he’s a bit sensitive. Don’t let me stop you
working
, Squire; it looks as if you’re going to have to save up.”

“Well,” exclaimed Mrs Kite. “What’ve you got there,
Stanley? Isn’t it lovely?” She had come out to the
pavement
to look at the bubble car. “You going to take us all out in it, dear?”

“If you like, certainly. One at a time though.”

“Oh, lovely. What d’you think of this, Dad?”

“It’s all right,” said Mr Kite dubiously. “Wouldn’t like to be in it with buses around, though.”

“Oh, go on. You’re always niggling. Anyway, there aren’t any buses around. They’re all striking;
you
ought to know that.”

“I see you know it all,” said Kitey darkly. “Good job everyone isn’t a traitor to their class.”

“Oh, dry up, you silly old basket,” advised Mrs Kite cheerfully. “Never mind him, Stanley. How about a run round?”

“Go on, Mum,” said Cynthia. “I’ll wait while you have a ride. If it can take you it’ll be safe for me.”

“Sauce,” said Mrs Kite, not minding a bit. “Here goes. Oops.” She raised a leg over the edge of the cockpit and subsided fatly into the rear seat. “Very comfy,” she
pronounced
, settling down. “Five pounds, cabby, if you catch the one in front.”

And with such jollities they set off on a little tour of the district.

“There’s Mrs Jordan,” she said, spying a drinking and cinema companion of hers, and tapping on the perspex. “Sound your hooter, Stanley dear. Oo-oo!”

Stanley was a little embarrassed by his passenger, but her cheery manner was infectious.

“I don’t know that I feel safe locked in here with you,” she guffawed, giving him a dig from behind that stunned him. “Good job it’s broad daylight.”

When they got back Cynthia was standing waiting, though Kitey had gone in.

“Well, that was lovely, Stanley, thanks very much,” said Mrs Kite. “Give us a hand out, ducks. Erp.” She stood on the pavement and patted her chest. “Like a little aeroplane; ever such a good view all round. Oo, look at the time. I’ve got to see Mrs Jordan and get round the Palace for that
Joan Crawford film about psychiatrists. Off you go, then. Have a good time. Mind how you go.”

Cynthia climbed into the rear seat, Stanley closed the lid, and they started off for yet another dance.

On the way back along the Embankment the engine stuttered and stopped. Stanley tried the starter once or twice and then after a few thoughtful to-ing and fro-ing movements with a finger, announced: “We’re out of petrol. I’d have been all right but for that run out with your mother.”

“Well, I’ve got a nice view of the streetlights through the top,” said Cynthia. “Aren’t you going to try and get any?”