THE THINGS MEN DO: Chapter 1 – 4

“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.”
“Good-bye and thanks.”

As she walked through the entrance into the street, Ann
came hurrying in, sheltering under an umbrella. They passed
so close they could have touched if they had stretched out their hands. I saw Gloria look at Ann’s lisle stockings and stout, shabby brogue shoes, then she went on down the
street.

Ann hadn’t seen her, sheltering as she had been under
the umbrella.

I suddenly noticed Tim’s head poking out from under the
car. He looked at Ann, then at me. I felt like a pickpocket
caught in the act.

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