I shifted on my seat, suddenly angry. In a moment, she
would be telling me how to run my business.
“You look after your lingerie. I’ll look after my garage.”
She laughed.
“Have it your own way.”
I drove down Edgware Road, turned at Marble Arch and
increased speed along Oxford Street. Neither of us said
anything until I slowed down and pulled up opposite New Bond
Street.
“Here we are.”
“I don’t know what I should have done without you.
Thanks a lot.”
“Nothing to it.”
I leaned across her and opened the truck door.
She got out and closed the door.
“I’ll be around before long.”
“14 Eagle Street. It’s up on the right-hand side.”
“I’ll find it. Thanks again. So long, Harry.”
“So long.” I hesitated, then added, “Gloria.”
She crossed the road, heading for New Bond Street I
leaned out of the window and watched her go. I still hadn’t
seen her face properly. I wouldn’t know her again if she wasn’t wearing that outfit.
As she reached the comer of New Bond Street, she looked back and waved, then she disappeared into the shadows.
I lit a cigarette, engaged gear and drove to Eagle Street.
During the short drive, I thought about her. I wondered if I was going to see her again. I wondered if she was as pretty as I imagined her to be. I thought of her slim, long legs, and her knees. I hadn’t thought about a girl in this way since Ann and I got married, but I was thinking this way now.
I was still thinking of her as I put the truck away and
locked up, but she went out of my mind the way your fist goes
when you open your hand when I heard Ann’s voice.
“Is that you, Harry?”
“Coming right up.”
I climbed the stairs to our four-room flat. Ann was waiting
at the front door. She was wearing her lightweight wool
dressing-gown that she had had on our honeymoon. It was
pretty well worn by now, and I’d promised to get her a new
one, but I hadn’t got around to it yet: money was too short to
buy dressing-gowns.
“What a time you’ve been, Harry.”
“I thought I’d never get the damned thing to go.”
Ann was twenty-six, but she didn’t look it. You wouldn’t
call her pretty, but she had fine colouring, big serious brown eyes and a big, generous mouth. She was a little thing, nicely proportioned, durable, and I often told her she was the kind of girl any man would want to marry and not just fool around with.
She used to say that meant she hadn’t a scrap of glamour,
and must look like a good cook. Maybe she didn’t have
glamour, but she was kind; you could see that by just looking
at her, and kindness means more to me than glamour: a lot
more.
“Go and have a wash, darling. I’ve some tea waiting. Are
you hungry?”
“I could eat something if there is anything.”
“I’ll make you a sandwich.”
When I came out of the bathroom and into the tiny bedroom she was in bed. The tea and some fish paste sandwiches were on the night table.
As I ate and got undressed at the same time, I told her
about the break-down. It wasn’t until I had turned off the light and had got into bed that I mentioned Gloria Selby.
I don’t know why I was so elaborately casual, but I was.
“Some girl thumbed a ride on the way back. Her car
ignition had burned out. There are too many dud cars on the
road.”
“Had she far to go?” Ann asked sleepily.
“She came all the way. She’s got a flat in Bond Street;
makes lingerie. Sounds as if she has a good business. She
goes to Paris once a month.”
“I wish we could go to Paris, Harry.”
“She must be making quite a bit of money. She runs a Jaguar.”
“Does she?” Ann said without much interest.
“She said if you couldn’t make money one way, you could another. You know, Ann, I’m getting a little fed up being
so short of cash.”
“I know you are, darling, but you mustn’t dwell on it.
You’ll make money before long. She’s probably got worries the
same as we have.”
“Maybe. Well, I guess we’d better go to sleep. I’ve got to
be up in another five and a half hours.”
“I’ll do it tomorrow, Harry. I’d like to.”
“You’ll do nothing of the land. Good night, sweetheart.”
“But I’d like to, Harry. I can manage the pumps. Why should you always be the one to get up early?”
“It’s my job. You wouldn’t like me to take over the
cooking, would you?”
She laughed
“I don’t think you’d like it either.”
“Good night, Ann.”
I was still awake long after her regular breathing told me
she was asleep. I kept thinking about the garage, the money I
owed, the money I needed I kept hearing Gloria’s voice: A
slump is an excuse for lack of enterprise. Maybe you don’t
know the ropes. If you can’t make money one way, you can
make it another.
The voice went on and on in my mind until I thought it
would drive me nuts.
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