1953 - The Things Men Do Read online

  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."

  "It's when things get bad, I want to be sure you need me.

  I want to help you, Harry. This isn't the time for us to lose faith in each other."

  "That's right. You're my girl, Ann; you and no one else."

  I saw her face crease up suddenly like a child's who has been hurt. She bit her lip, turning her face away.

  "It's good to hear you say that."

  "I'm a damned fool, Ann, but I love you. I don't know what I'd do without you. Sorry about yesterday. Forgive me, will you?"

  Her arms went round my neck and her face pressed against mine.

  "There's nothing to forgive. I know you're worried, Harry. It was that that made you so funny yesterday, wasn't it? It wasn't that—that girl?"

  "Of course not. There's no other girl but you, Ann: honest. You mustn't think such things."

  "I know I look a fright. I know I should try to look smart, but it's awfully difficult, Harry, Be patient with me."

  "Don't say things like that. It's you I love, not what you wear. It wasn't anything like that. We're in a mess. We've got to face it. If this goes on much longer well go bust. Then what are we going to do?"

  "We'll sell up and well get jobs. You can get a job any day, and so can I. So long as we stick together. Harry nothing matters. Do you think we should sell now, and cut our losses?"

  "Not yet." My mind moved to Gloria again. "Let's hang on a little longer, Ann. We might get a break. I might think of something."

  She kissed me and slid off my lap.

  "All right. Eat your breakfast now before it gets cold. Perhaps it would be an idea if I got a job. It would help, wouldn't it?"

  "Well hang on a bit longer. I don't want you away from here. You're a good lad, Ann. I don't know what I'd do without you."

  Around ten o'clock one of my few clients brought his car in to have a tappet fixed. I talked him into changing his oil for the stuff I had overbought, and I told Tim to take care of it.

  While I was talking to Tim, Bill came in.

  "Hello, Harry, got some business?"

  "Not much, but it's something."

  "I'd like to have a word with you."

  I looked at him.

  "Come into the office, Bill. What's on your mind?"

  "Nothing much." He followed me into the office and dosed the door. "Have a gasper?"

  We lit up. He sat on the straight-backed chair and I sat behind the desk.

  "How's Ann?"

  "She's fine."

 
; "That's good."

  "We enjoyed the party last night. Nice of you to have celebrated with us, Bill."

  Bill took off his peaked cap, scratched his head and put tin cap on again.

  "That's all right. After all you and Ann are the only people I care about."

  "That, goes for you too."

  Bill looked at me and gave me an embarrassed grin.

  "I know. We've had some good times together, haven't we?"

  "And some bad ones."

  "That's a fact."

  Silence hung in the little room while we smoked. I kept looking at him, but he was staring down at the floor, a worried expression on his red, kindly face.

  "What's on your mind, Bill?"

  "You and Ann."

  I didn't say anything.

  "Maybe it's none of my business, but I'm fond of you two. Things are a bit rough, aren't they?"

  "Yes, they're rough all right, but you don't have to bother your brains about that."

  "Don't I? You know, Harry, I was under the impression that friends are supposed to help each other. If I got into a mess, I hope you would help me."

  "Well, I would, but there's nothing you can do, Bill. It's just one of those things."

  "There is something I can do. Last night was a bit of a wash out, wasn't it?"

  I looked sharply at him, and he grinned.

  "We just weren't in the mood for a party, Bill. We hoped you hadn't noticed."

  "Not noticed? Blimey! You looked like a couple of pallbearers. What do you think I am? Blind?"

  "Sorry, Bill, but we've got a lot on our minds right now."

  "How bad is it, Harry?"

  "Bad enough."

  "Now look, will you stop acting as if I was a tax collector? I've known you for eight yean. We're pals, aren't we? Just how bad is it?"

  "Well, we owe eighty-nine pounds, and we've only got about fifty to meet the monthly bills. If we don't settle our bills, they'll stop supplies. That's how bad it is."

  "Fifty quid would put you in the clear?"

  "For this month it would, but then there's next month. We're beginning to realize, Bill, Eagle Street is a wash out."

  "Let's take care of this month. Next month can take care of itself." He produced a chequebook from .his pocket. "I'm going to lend you fifty quid, Harry, just as you would lend it to me if I was in a jam."

  "You're not! Now look, Bill, it's damned nice of you, but I've got to see this thing through myself. If I take the money from you, I shall still be as badly off. I'd worry myself sick wondering how I was going to pay you back. No, I can't take it."

  "Fifty quid will hold you over to the end of the month. In the meantime something might turn up. Come on, Harry, don't be proud. I don't give a damn when you pay it back."

  "But you can't afford to lend me fifty quid, Bill, and you know it."

  "It may surprise you, my boy, to know I have a hundred and fifty smackers in the bank. I've been saving ever since I left the Army. I have no one to spend the money on except myself. Now come on, say you'll take it. You'd do the same for me, and I wouldn't be proud."

  I hesitated. Fifty pounds would be a godsend at this moment. The thought of getting rid of all the niggly little bills that were cluttering up my desk proved too big a temptation.

  "Well, all right. It's damned nice of you. You may have to wait some time before I can give it to you back."

  Bill grinned

  "There's no hurry. Pay it back when you like."

  I watched him write out the cheque, and when he tossed it across the desk, I shoved out my hand and gripped his.

  "Thanks a lot, Bill. I'm damned grateful. There's just one thing, don't tell Ann about this. She wouldn't like it."

  A surprised, puzzled expression jumped into his eyes.

  "Is that a good thing to do, Harry? I thought you and Ann were like one: no secrets and nothing up your sleeve kind of thing."

  I felt my face turn red.

  "Well, we are like one, but this is a bit different I know she wouldn't like it, and it would worry her. Women aren't like men. Men make use of their friends: women don't. You know I'd help you if you wanted help, and I'm ready to accept your help when you offer it, but Ann wouldn't. I'd rather you didn't say anything to her about it."

  "All right, but I think you're making a mistake." His red face looked unhappy. "You know, Harry, I'm as fond of Ann as I am of you. You two are a great couple. The way you've been together has been an eye-opener to me. I thought marriage was a cat and dog life until I saw you together. Don't spoil it, will you?"

  "You're talking a lot of sentimental bosh." I tried to laugh.

  "Ann and I will always be the same to each other."

  "I hope so." He put his chequebook away and got up.

  "Well, I'd better get back to the grindstone. Three more days and I start my new job. If Ann and you've got nothing better to do, how about going to the local flea pit on Saturday? They've got a good film on: Hepburn. I like that girl. What do you say?"

  "Okay. Come and have supper with us; about seven."

  "Let's hope it won't be such a damned awful wake as last night," Bill said, grinning.

  I walked with him to the entrance of the garage just as a black Jaguar swung to the kerb.

  At the wheel in a smart white mackintosh, but still without a hat, was Gloria.

  The sight of her made my heart lurch against my side.

  She gave me a wave to indicate she was coming in. I felt Bill looking at me.

  "See you Saturday," he said, and stepped into the driving rain.

  I grunted something as I waved Gloria to the space I had cleared.

  Tim poked his head out from under the car he was working on and stared. I frowned at him, and after one more owlish stare, he retired under the car again.

  "What a horrible morning," Gloria said, opening the car door and getting out. She made no attempt to conceal her legs as she swung them to the floor. I had a quick, electrifying glimpse of blue frills, white thighs and sky-blue garters that had me gaping like any spotty youth at a peep show.

  "Morning." I watched her adjust her mackintosh and reach in the car for her handbag and umbrella.

  "I'll leave it here for today. I may use it tomorrow. If it's fine, could you have it cleaned?"

  "Yes. I'll fix that."

  She turned to look at the car.

  "Nice bus, isn't she?"

  "A cracker."

  "Ever driven one?"

  "No."

  "You must try it one of these days. It goes like a bird, and has a pick-up that'll frighten the life out of you."

  "I'd like to."

  She looked over at Tim's long legs that were sticking out from below the car he was working on. Then she looked at me and over at the office, raising her eyebrows.

  "I'll just take down the log-book details if you'll come into the office."

  She smiled and gave me a quick, mischievous wink.

  When we were in the office, she closed the door and leaned against it.

  "Your garage isn't very private, is it, Harry?"

  "Tim's all right." My voice was husky.

  She raised her eyes and looked up at the ceiling, then at me.

  "She's out shopping."

  "You soon cotton on, don't you?" She laughed, wrinkling her nose at me. "I don't mean to be mysterious, but some wives don't like girls talking to their husbands."

  "Ann's not like that." I felt the hairs on the nape at my neck rise the way a cat's back bristles when it sees a dog.

  "Sorry. I didn't mean to drop a brick." She thrust her hands into her mackintosh pockets, smiling at me. "I want you, to come to my party on Saturday night. There's a man coming who might be able to help you. He's in the radio business, and it occurred to me, it might be a good thing if you met him."

  "Radio business? I don't know much about radios."

  "You wouldn't have to. He told me he's looking for an agency that would carry his spare parts. The agency has to be in the West End
. You have plenty of room out here. You could stock his stuff. You would be dealing with the trade. They would have to come to you if they wanted spares. Don't you think that would be a good idea?"

  I saw at once it was a good idea.

  "I'd jump at the chance if he would let me have the agency, but would he?"

  She smiled.

  "He might. I have a little influence with him. Come and meet him on Saturday. You have a dinner jacket?"

  I very nearly said I hadn't but stopped myself in time.

  "Is it going to be one of those parties?"

  "Of course." Her eyebrows shot up. "Bring your wife too if you like, or do you think we'd better make this a business meeting? Wives can get in the way, can't they?"

  "I wouldn't bring Ann."

  She nodded, looked down at her neat reverse calf shoes, then up at me again.

  "Then that's settled? Come to my flat. It's on the second floor above Kenwick's, the jeweller's, halfway down on the right hand side. There's a side entrance. Come about eight o'clock."

  I suddenly remembered I had promised Bill we'd go to the movies with him on Saturday night. My brain worked fast. I could duck out and let Bill take Ann: in that way Ann wouldn't be alone for the evening.

  "Would you do me a favour?"

  "Of course. What is it?"

  "Would you phone me about seven on Saturday? Just call the number, and when I answer, hang up."

  The black sparkling eyes studied my face.

  "Preparing an alibi, Harry?"

  I felt myself turn hot.

  "Does it matter? Will you do it?"

  She nodded. "I'll do it."

  I wanted her to go now before Ann came back. I made a move to the door.

  "Who was that funny little man you were talking to just now, Harry?" she asked casually as she picked up her handbag from the desk.

  "That's Bill Yates. He and I have been pals for years."

  "What is he—a postman?"

  "At the moment, but he's got promotion. He's going to be a guard on Monday."

  "A guard? Do they have guards in post offices?"

  "They have them on the vans when they're carrying valuable registered mail."

  "Do they? I didn't know. He looked nice."

  "He is nice. He's my best friend."

  She walked with me down the garage to the entrance.

  "Good-bye, Harry."