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 fiat 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.”
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