The Nightingales Are Singing

by Monica Dickens

  Mrs. Meenehan, however, the wife of the retired lieutenant-commander next door, was more than willing to worry with

  -257-

  Christine about her vacuum cleaner. That sort of thing was right up her street. Although she let "Daddy" do most of the work in her own house, she could not let anyone else alone to run their houses as they liked. She was always telling Christine what brand of soap-flakes she must buy and how she could not possibly get along without this or that cooking gadget. If Christine did not buy the thing she recommended, Mrs. Meenehan was quite capable of buying it for her herself and appearing at the kitchen window with the article and a demand for the seventy-five cents she had paid for it.

  One morning when Christine was upstairs making the bed, she heard Mrs. Meenehan yoo-hooing frantically in the back garden. When Christine put her head out of the window, she shouted: "Come down right away, Catherine! There's something on the T.V. you must see."

  She never called it television. It was always T.V., or even, in her worst moments, video.

  Christine knew that Mrs. Meenehan would not go away unless she went down, and she could not have her shouting on the back lawn all morning, so she went downstairs with her hair in pins and allowed herself to be hurried across into the Meenehan's living-room, which was arranged somewhat like a cinema, with the mammoth television set as the focal point, and all the chairs placed so that you could not help looking at the screen wherever you sat.

  The Meenehans, having nothing much in common except their memories of the days when Daddy had command of the Walrus, lived for television. They had another set in the basement room, which they called the rumpus room, and which was fixed up with a bar and a pin-table and a jukebox and notices which said "Gents" and "Ladies" in foreign languages, and other trophies of the Meenehans 1 naval travels. They had originally fixed up the basement for their son, but

  -258-

  even a rumpus room with funny notices and mugs full of wax beer that looked real until you turned them upside down could not keep him at home. He had gone away from them to marry a girl they did not like, but they kept up the whimsy of the rumpus room under the illusion that they needed it for parties with the crowds of friends they did not have.

  The thing that had so excited Mrs. Meenehan this morning was a commercial which was advertising rebuilt vacuum cleaners for merely ten dollars and fifty cents, if only you would call POtomac 8-7534 RIGHT NOW.

  Mrs. Meenehan was completely sold on the idea, as she was sold on nearly everything the radio or television commercials hurled at her, as her gadget-cluttered kitchen testified.

  "Just what you want!' she told Christine, excited with the lust of buying, particularly at someone else's expense. "Call that number right now, Catherine honey. You can use my phone."

  Christine hung back. "I think I ought to ask Vinson first-"

  "Oh, shucks. What can you lose? It's only ten dollars and a half. Why, you could pay that out of your housekeeping money and he'd never know it."

  "It does sound a bargain, but I think I'd rather ask him first-"

  "You heard what the man said? If you don't call right now you might lose your chance." Mrs. Meenehan took every word that came out of either of her television sets as Gospel truth.

  While Christine still hesitated she took off the Hawaiian doll which covered the telephone, and dialled the number. Before Christine could protest she heard Mrs. Meenehan arranging for her to have a rebuilt vacuum cleaner demonstrated that very afternoon.

  Well, it was a free demonstration, "without obligation to

  buy/* the man had said. And although she knew that she would never have the courage to refuse to buy the vacuum cleaner after someone had taken the trouble to bring it out to her house and demonstrate it, it was only ten dollars and a half, and it surely must be better than the old one she had. Had she not seen it on the television screen cutting a swathe like mown grass through a pile of carefully arranged dust on the studio carpet? She was already catching some of Mrs. Meenehan's television hypnosis.

  The salesman who brought Christine's vacuum cleaner was quite young, a boy just out of college, with a crew cut, a friendly smile and a pleasant, educated voice. Christine felt sorry for him because his four years of youth and glory at college had led only to this, which was precisely why the vacuum cleaner company employed as salesmen only young men who looked as if they were just out of college.

  The rebuilt vacuum cleaner looked rather battered and did not seem to suck any better than the old one which had been worrying Christine, but the salesman was so young and eager that she had not the heart to send him back to the shop with the sale unmade. The cleaner was no worse than the one she had already, and it was only ten dollars and a half after all, so she wrote out the cheque and hoped that Vinson would understand.

  The young man had not used any persuasion on her. It had not been necessary; but when she proved herself a serious customer by writing the cheque he suddenly braced himself and began to go to work on her in earnest.

  "Just a moment, lady," he said. "Ill be right back." He ran out of the door with his athletic stride and returned in a few moments with a large cardboard box which he set in the middle of the floor.

  "What's this?" asked Christine, as she saw a shining new

  — 260 —

  vacuum cleaner being lifted from the box. "I don't want to see another cleaner. I've just bought one/'

  "Sure you have, lady/' said the young man soothingly,
  "You're going to realise some day," he said, still frankly confiding, "that you're wasting your money buying cheap rebuilt machines when you could get a new one that will last you for years and never give you any trouble. Now, I'm not trying to make a sale. Believe me." He gazed at her candidly out of his thick-lashed blue eyes. "I just want to show you our latest model, so that when the time comes for you to realise that you owe it to yourself to buy a new machine you'll have some idea of what to choose."

  "Yes, but-" said Christine. "I don't think-" But he had already unpacked the new vacuum cleaner, fitted it up with its brush, plugged it in and started away on her carpet with a noise like a jet engine.

  "I'm not trying to make a sale," he kept saying. "I just want you to see, for your own interest, the difference between this new model and that old thing you've just written out a cheque for," Now that she had actually bought the secondhand cleaner he began to damn it unmercifully, shaking Christine's confidence in it, as he intended.

  The longer she watched the new cleaner working on her home with a suction so powerful that it lifted the rugs off the floor and practically tore the loose covers off the chairs, the more she was convinced that she would never be satisfied with the secondhand one.

  After all, as the salesman reminded her, what could you

  -261-

  expect for ten dollars and fifty cents? She knew that he was working on her. She knew that he was out at full stretch to make a sale, but she sat helpless, watching almost dispassionately the mechanics of his salesmanship and the crumbling of her own weak resistance.

  "It certainly is a wonderful thing/' Christine said feebly when he had stopped the motor and the rugs had settled back on the floor and there was peace in the house again, "but I'm afraid I couldn't possibly afford it."

  "With our easy terms? Lady, a pauper could afford it. If you can pay ten-fifty for this old wreck" —he spumed the secondhand cleaner with his cr£pe-soled foot — "you can afford the down payment on this beautiful new one. I can take your same cheque for that if you like. Ten dollars and fifty cents, that's all we're asking as a down payment.

  "Well, but I'm afraid my husband - " Drowning under his salesmanship, Christine clutched at the straw of Vinson's name.

  "Look, lady, i
f he don't like the idea, why, he needn't ever know. He gives you an allowance for housekeeping? Right. Well, you could pay the ridiculously small instalments out of that and keep the whole business to yourself, hm?" That was what Mrs. Meenehan had said. Since she sent for free demonstrations of nearly everything she heard about on the commercials, she was no stranger to sales methods.

  "Oh no, I couldn't do that," said Christine. "I'd have to get his consent, though I'm afraid he won't agree." But perhaps, after all, when she told Vinson about the wonderful cleaner, when she repeated to him what the salesman had said about it being an investment really, because it preserved the life of your house and furniture — perhaps she could get him in a good mood and persuade him.

  "I'll talk to him tonight," she said, "and let you know." But

  — 262 —

  the college boy was out to make a sale today or die in the attempt.

  'Why not call him now, ma'am?" he suggested. "And let me tell him about the new model. If he's engineer minded, which I'm sure he is, being in the navy, he'll appreciate what I have to tell him about the motor/'

  "Oh no." Vinson did not like being called at the office. He did not know anything about engineering or the motors of vacuum cleaners, and she had a feeling that even the expert flattery of the salesman would not make him think that he did. She felt trapped. She wished that the young man would go away and leave her with the secondhand cleaner, although she now despised it.

  "I'll have to think about it/' she said, getting up as a sign for him to go. "I'll think about it and let you know/'

  "Now you're letting yourself down," the young man said, his pleasant face falling in boyish disappointment. "You had made up your mind, you know you had, that this new machine was the only one for you. Surely you owe it to yourself, lady, to give your house the best. However," he added sadly, picking up the paint sprayer and looking at it regretfully before he put it back in the box, "if that's the way you feel about it — O.K. As I told you, we don't go in for this high-pressure salesmanship. We leave that to the firms who can't sell their goods any other way. I sure am sorry, though."

  He looked genuinely crestfallen as he began to pack the new cleaner back into its box. Christine pictured him stowing it into his car again and driving slowly back to the shop, where other young men in other cars would be arriving jubilantly, having made sales of the new models, while he had wasted the whole afternoon on her and only got rid of ten dollars and fifty cents' worth of rubbish.

  She knew that she was lost. She realised now that she had

  — 263 —

  been lost right from the moment when he had brought out the shining new cleaner and said: "Now, Fm not trying to make a sale."

  When he had gone away, all charm, and congratulating her on her good sense, she spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning the whole house with the new vacuum cleaner. It really was a wonderful machine. Of course she had been wise to buy it instead of wasting her money on something inferior. Vinson must see it that way.

  He did not. She waited until he had had his supper, and then asked him innocently: "Don't you think the house looks nice and clean?"

  "It looks swell, honey. But then it always does. You keep it very nice. You're a good girl, but I don't want you to work too hard and tire yourself."

  Now was the time. She told him about the new cleaner and how much work it would save her. She told him the whole story, about the college boy who looked too good for his job, and about the secondhand cleaner and the difference between the two, and Vinson sat silent and let her talk, but the fingers of one hand were drumming on the arm of the chair and he was biting the nails of the other, and she knew he was getting annoyed.

  He said that they could not afford it. She had known that he would say that, but she had not expected him to be less cross about the expense than about the fact that she had been a salesman's dupe.

  Tve told you time and again," he said, "you should never buy things you hear advertised on the air. The reputable firms just don't do business that way. If you wanted a new vacuum cleaner — and I don't see why you did, because we had one — "

  "Now you're being like the man I heard in a shop. When

  — 264 —

  his wife said: Tm going to look at some coats/ he said: Why do you want a coat? YouVe got a coat/ "

  "If you wanted a new vacuum cleaner/' Vinson repeated when she had finished, "why in God's name didn't you go to a decent electrical store where you wouldn't be swin-died?"

  "I haven't been swindled/' Christine protested. "You're prejudiced. Everybody buys things through commercials. Mrs. Meenehan buys all her things that way. She — "

  "A very good reason for you not to do it," he said. "Isn't there any difference between my wife and the wife of a broken-down old warrant officer who only struggled into a commission because of the war?"

  "Vin! Don't be such a snob. Just because you went to that smug Naval Academy — "

  "Now, honey, don't try and quarrel with me. You know it's bad for you." Since she became pregnant this was his new line to stop any arguments.

  "Well, it's worse for me to slave away with that old vacuum cleaner you had for years before we were married. And the secondhand one I was going to buy wasn't much better. Honestly, Vin, if you'd seen the difference between that and the new one. There was no question of which to buy."

  He laughed, but without mirth. "To think of you being taken in by that old trick! By God, that salesman certainly had a field day with you. Don't you know that they only advertise things like cheap secondhand cleaners to give them a chance to get into your home with a new one? And then you know what they do? They bring the old one with a piece of paper or something stuffed into the tube so that it has hardly any suction at all, so of course the new one seems miles better by comparison."

  "Oh no, Vin. He was an awfully nice young man. I'm sure he wouldn't — "

  -265-

  "Sure he was an awfully nice young man. That's why they sent him out to get you/'

  Christine was crestfallen. He thought that she had been a fool. Perhaps she had. But she had her new vacuum cleaner. Nothing could take that away from her. Mercifully Vinson did not say that she must send it back. He contented himself with grumbling about the monthly payments and saying that with the house to pay off and the baby coming, they were living beyond their means.

  Presently he went down to the cellar to soothe his soul with carpentry. While Christine was washing the supper dishes, Mrs. Meenehan's head, swathed in a mauve hair net, for this was her shampoo night, appeared through the gloaming at the window to ask after the vacuum cleaner.

  When Christine told her that she had bought a new one and showed her the treasure, Mrs. Meenehan was lavish with approval and borrowed it there and then to try it out in her own house.

  Christine went down to the basement, stepping carefully down the stairs with the new deliberate tread she had already acquired, although she was not yet much heavier. She had coffee for Vinson, and an idea.

  "If we're so hard up — "she began.

  "We soon will be at the rate you're going/' he said, without looking up from his calculations on the drawing-board.

  "If we're so hard up, why couldn't I get a job? Part time perhaps. It wouldn't be too tiring. I could easily do something for a bit until I — until I begin to show. I could at least earn enough to pay off the vacuum cleaner."

  "Oh, damn the vacuum cleaner," he said. "You're not taking a job."

  "Why not?"

  "Because a commander's wife doesn't go out to work, that's

  -266-

  "You're always telling me what a commander's wife does and doesn't do. Why should a commander's wife be different from other women? Lots of wives have jobs."

  "Not mine. Do you think I want people to think I can't support my own wife?"

  "Vin, that's archaic. Why, lots of naval wives go out to work. Even commanders' wives. What about Mrs. Hollis? She's in the Treasury. And Molly Gregg works part time at tha
t school. You know she does, and her husband's senior to you."

  He could not dispute this, so he tried another line. "What could you do, anyway? I don't see how you could get a job."

  "Didn't I hold down a perfectly good job at Goldwyn's for four years? The estimable Miss Cope. Why shouldn't I be the estimable Mrs. Gaegler in some bookshop in Washington? And I'm a trained nurse. You forget that sometimes when you treat me as I didn't know how to look after myself. I could be a nurses' aid. I'd love to go back into hospital for a bit."

  He thought of another objection, triumphantly, for it was a valid one. "You couldn't get a job with the temporary visa you have. The Immigration Department wouldn't allow it."

  'What would I need then?"

  "You'd need a permanent immigration visa, the one I've already applied for as a first step to taking out your citizenship papers, and it will take ages for that to come through, and by that time you'll be too near having the baby, so that stops all this nonsense about a job."

  Christine did not argue the point further. The idea of the job was going out of her head, because the discussion about the visa had reminded her of something else.

  Weeks ago, Vinson had asked to see her visa, to check when it expired. During the move from the apartment to the house

  — 267 —

  she had mislaid her passport with the visa inside it. She could not horrify Vinson by telling him this. He was always deadly careful about things like passports and permits. He stood in awe of the inclemency of government authority, and would begin to imagine that his wife would be deported or put into prison because she had lost her passport. So Christine had told him that she would check the visa herself, and had then forgotten all about it.