Lover (18 page)

‘You feeling a bit better now, Rene?'

‘I'm not so bad.'

He said, ‘I'm glad. That was a bad business, all round.'

I felt a bit awkward, talking about it. I mean, I know he knows, and he knows I know he knows, but all the same. And it was hard to make him out, because there wasn't any sort of…
suggestiveness
, if you see what I mean. And he could be married with five kids, for all I know, although I have to say he hasn't got a look of that. There were a lot of people in the pub, and we could hear Ale Mary in the passage outside, singing away over all the racket. To change the subject, I said, ‘Bit early for her, isn't it?'

‘Be thankful for small mercies. At least it's not the Old Testament.'

‘Not unless there's a Book of Marie Lloyd.'

Harry laughed. ‘I'll bet she hasn't enjoyed herself so much in years.'

‘Wish I could say the same. It's enough to make anyone go off their head, all this.'

‘Oh, cheer up, it's not so bad. I heard a good story yesterday. One of the chaps in our ARP is a dentist. He had a man come in for a new set of teeth, and do you know what he'd done? He was a bit quiet about it, but they got it out of him in the end: he's with the AFS and he's on the hose for the first time, the fire's nearly out and he hasn't been home in three days so he thinks it's a good chance to clean his teeth. He takes them out and holds them up in the water, but of course he hadn't reckoned on the pressure, and they shoot out of his hand and go sailing through the air, straight into the fire!'

‘No!'

‘Honestly. Flying right through the air, snapping away like anything.'

‘They never.'

‘Well, that's what he said.'

‘
Snapping
?' It was such a funny picture, I couldn't stop laughing.

‘Well, I don't know if that was strictly true, but it makes a good story, doesn't it?'

‘Priceless…'

‘It's nice to see you laugh, Rene.'

‘Snapping…oh, dear, you've really cheered me up.'

‘You look lovely when you smile.'

There was a bit of a pause after that, with neither of us knowing quite what to say, so I stood up. ‘I'd best be going.'

Harry stood, too. ‘Yes. I'm glad you're feeling a bit brighter.'

‘Well, I've got you to thank for that, haven't I?'

‘All part of the service. Take care of yourself, Rene.'

It was just about dark outside. All the way to my patch I kept thinking of Harry saying I look lovely when I smile, then telling myself not to be soft. Being in this business can take you two ways: one where you don't trust men because you see all the bad side, and the other where it makes you want a bit of romance more than ever, to have the contrast with the other thing. That's why so many have ponces, but it's no use if you have to pay a man to stay with you. Except of course that they're your own sort because they understand the life.

But with Harry… Well, I don't know, because you do get these types, every so often; they'll give you money and help you out and not want anything for it, but it's all done to make them feel a better person, so even if they don't get the physical satisfaction, they get another sort. There's a lot of men have a fascination with women like us, but with this particular type of person, it takes them in a different way from the usual. I'm not saying there's wrong in it, and I wouldn't refuse the money, why should I? But Harry hasn't offered me anything more than you would an ordinary woman, so I can't make it out. But I like him. Yes, I do. But I'm not getting my hopes up, because even if a man thinks he can forget you've been a tart, I don't reckon that's true—it'll always come back later. First quarrel, and he'll throw it right back in your face how he's picked you up out of the gutter. But then I said to myself, I'm not going to think about Harry any more tonight, because I'm working.

I had an appointment with one of my regulars at my flat— Raymond the Barber, I call him, because he always wants to comb my hair. Puts a towel across my shoulders and calls me ‘Madam' and all the rest of it. He comes to see me about once a month. I charge him two pounds for it, being a bit out of the ordinary. Mind you, I have to pretend to tip him. First thing he does, he gives me a couple of shillings and I have to put them in my handbag so I can bring them out after and give him, and he says, ‘Oh,
thank
you, Madam.' You get a fair bit of that sort of thing. I've got my button-boot man, too, who comes to see me, he's another one. He's got these boots he brings with him and he likes me to walk up and down in front of him wearing nothing but. They don't half pinch! Still, it makes a change from the usual.

I had a fair bit of business after that, and then I'd just come back out onto the street when a man comes shooting past and nearly knocks me flying. I thought, what's this, I'm being robbed, and I shouted out. Not that he'd get much, mind you, because I keep my money in my shoe, not my handbag, and he'd have a job finding that. Anyway, he wasn't a thief, just a young fellow in a hurry—uniform of some sort, all apologetic, nice manners and the rest of it. Said he was looking for a pal who'd given him the slip. I said, ‘Doesn't sound like much of a pal to me.'

‘Well, he's not, really, he's a funny chap. But you haven't seen anyone, have you?'

‘I've only just got here, dear. I can ask my friend round the corner, if you like.'

‘I didn't see anyone.'

‘Well you wouldn't, would you, the way you were going?'

‘Yes, I'm sorry about that, I—'

‘Never mind. I meant the other corner. Where you were heading. Let's have a look, shall we?'

I shone my torch across the pavement, but Lily wasn't there. ‘She's busy, dear. I'd give it up, if I were you.'

‘Yes…' he sighed. ‘I suppose you're right. I say…are you, I mean, do you…could…that is, could I buy you a drink?'

Here we go, I thought. ‘Oh, you don't have to do that, dear. It'll be two pounds unless you're after something special.' I said two pounds because I had him down for a novice and I thought I might as well take ten shillings more for the extra bother—I'm not a bloody nursemaid, after all.

‘
Special
? Heavens, no…' He laughed nervously. ‘What do, I mean, where…?'

‘Come along with me.'

When we got back to my flat I saw he was RAF. Nineteen or twenty, I suppose, with a sort of baby look to him—big dark eyes with long lashes and lovely wavy hair—but as if the face hadn't taken on its proper shape yet, if you know what I mean. Blushing like fury, of course. He said, ‘Look here, I don't know the form… Name's Gervase.'

Blimey, I thought, you couldn't make it up, could you? ‘That's nice, dear. I'm Rene.'

‘Pleased to meet you.' He put his hand out for me to shake.

‘It's all right, dear, it's not a garden party.'

‘Oh. Sorry.' He put both hands behind his back, and looked down at his feet. I thought, I've got my work cut out here.

‘Haven't you forgotten something, dear?'

‘I'm sorry, I don't—'

‘The money.'

‘Oh, yes. Of course.'

At least they're quick, the first time. Afterwards, he said he wanted to talk. That's something else you get a lot of, and it's always the same: hard luck stories. The wife's left or the girl won't marry them or they're miserable. Once you've heard one man feeling sorry for himself, you've heard them all.

I mean, I'm not one of these ‘Get your trousers off and get on with it' merchants, I like to keep it polite, but you don't want them hanging around afterwards, especially if they're going to come over all moral and try to save you—well! I tell you, I've had clergymen in here giving me a sermon about what a tragedy it is to live like I do and how I ought to repent and all the rest of it, when not five minutes before they've been begging me to talk all manner of filth to get them excited. Funny, you'd think they'd see how ridiculous it is, but they never do. And men say
women
are stupid! Although now I come to think of it, I suppose we must be, because we put up with it, don't we?

Not that I thought I was going to get that from this boy, but I wasn't in the mood, so I said, ‘No, you've had what you've paid for,' and he said he'd give me more money. I told him a pound. He gave it to me, then he said, ‘Will you put your arms round me?'

‘Very well, dear, if that's what you want.' Then blow me if he didn't start to cry! I've got one arm round him and one eye on the clock, I'm patting him on the back like a baby and half-listening, and he talks and talks. He was going on about how he's afraid he'll let down his family and his chums and how it wasn't like he thought it would be—the air force, I suppose he meant—and he didn't know if he could fight, and then he said how ashamed he was at coming to see me. I thought, that's a bit rich, so I said, ‘Well, if that's the case, dear, you'd better be going, hadn't you?' He apologised and said something about getting carried away because it was a relief to talk to someone, and then he sort of checked himself, like he'd been about to tell me something else. Then he started on about this pal who'd run out on him and what a good flyer he was, and how he seemed to be fearless, but how he hardly ever spoke to anyone, and how some of the other fellows liked a joke but this one never joined in, and a whole lot more like that, but I wasn't interested to hear it, I was thinking of how soon I could get rid of him and back downstairs, so I'm at the mirror putting on lipstick, nodding away: ‘Yes, well, never mind…'

‘I don't understand,' he kept saying. ‘If only I could understand.'

I said, ‘Oh, everybody feels like that sometimes. It's a funny old world, after all.'

‘Do they really?' He looked at me with these great big wet eyes and just for a moment it reminded me so much of my Tommy that I almost went and gave him a proper cuddle, but then I thought, that won't do. It was touching, though, because some of these boys are
so
young, really, and when you think what they have to do… But I hadn't time for any more of it, so I said, ‘Come on, dear. Off you go.'

He gave himself a little shake, and said, ‘I'm sorry if I've bored you.'

‘Oh, don't you worry about that.'

‘You've been very kind.'

‘Only doing my job, dear. Come back any time. Ta-ta.'

Then he said he'd got to go and find this queer chum of his, and off he went.

I went back out, too. It was pretty quiet, so I thought I'd nip round the corner for a chat to Lily, see if she wanted a cup of tea, but she wasn't there. I stayed on for a bit—a couple more, then nothing for half an hour, and Lily still wasn't back, so I thought, oh, well… Then, just as I was about to go in, I heard footsteps, not very steady, and this mournful voice, like a fog-horn: ‘Poor old Henry…' with a great beery belch that echoed up and down the street and had me chuckling all the way up the stairs. Poor old Henry! I'll tell that to Lily tomorrow, when I see her.

W
hen I woke up yesterday morning I decided it was time to turn over a new leaf. At Minnie's firm they take turns in fire-watching twice a week, but so far, I've done nothing at all, and when I think about her, and Dad, and Frank joining up, it makes me feel pretty useless. I put the green brooch in my handbag as a reminder, and attended a lecture on first aid—a real one, this time—in the evening. I spoke to one of the ladies from the Women's Auxiliary Council of the YMCA about volunteering for the mobile canteen, and she said she'd see if it was possible for me to do service part-time, which bucked me up no end. There's no cooking, thank heavens—unless you count making tea—just playing shop with pies and buns, which suits me down to the ground. Came out feeling that at least it was a step in the right direction, then—horrors!—I saw Mr Bridges across the road, obviously waiting for someone. Rushed down the nearest side-street so he shouldn't see me, but it was too late, he'd started calling out to me. He caught up and then I
had
to stop because people were turning round to see what the noise was.

‘Go away,' I hissed.

‘Lucy, please. Let me explain.'

‘You don't need to explain. Just go away.'

‘Please, Lucy. I know you don't want any more to do with me, you've made that clear, but if you could just listen—'

‘All right, I'm listening. Tell me.'

‘Not in the middle of the street. Let's sit down, at least. Have a drink. This isn't easy.'

‘Well, you don't have to do it on my account.'

‘I want to. Don't you understand?'

‘No, frankly, I don't.'

‘For God's sake, Lucy!' He grabbed hold of my arm, and a man stopped and said, ‘This chap bothering you, Miss?'

Flustered, I said, ‘No, really, it's fine.'

He looked doubtful. ‘If you're sure…'

‘Yes, really. Thank you.'

The man moved away, and Mr Bridges said, ‘Can I take that as a “yes”, then? You'll come?'

‘I suppose so. But I can't be long.'

We went to a pub in Rathbone Place. Very rowdy. Mr Bridges said that the customers were all artists and intellectuals, but I must say they didn't look it to me. They all smelt strongly of alcohol, and there was a man in the corner telling dirty stories in quite a loud voice, most of it incoherent, thank heavens. One woman was actually staggering, and the man trying to hold her up wasn't much better. What a place! It beats me how people, especially clever people, can behave like that.

I think Mr Bridges must have been in a pub before he'd seen me, because he started pawing at me and being sentimental, saying his wife was ill, a chronic invalid, and dreadfully bad-tempered, and had been that way for years. I didn't believe a word of it, and said so. I was fairly disgusted with the whole thing, and angry at myself for backsliding by agreeing to listen to him at all. I got up to leave as soon as I could. Mr Bridges tried to follow, but I told him not to bother. I know he could make things awkward for me at work if he chose, especially because I jolly well won't go up to his office again, but I felt, for once, that I was
in the right
. I walked down the road with no real sense of where I was going, but by the time I came to Oxford Street I'd cooled down a bit. It was nice to be in the fresh air, and the bangs weren't too close, thank goodness. Decided to try and find my way to Leicester Square. A spur-of-the-moment thing, really, which certainly had something to do with meeting you-know-who, and thinking it must have happened close by, and wondering if by any chance he'd be there again, coupled with exhilaration at getting rid of Mr Bridges and a strong desire to put off another dose of Mums for as long as possible.