‘He’s a regular,’ David peered through the smoke, ‘comes in here regular though I don’t think he’s with anybody. Not bad; wouldn’t mind a go myself but I’ve never seen the girl before.’
‘She looks very unhappy, very unsure,’ Rae blew a jet from her cigarette and used it as a dissolving screen to watch them through.
‘Shall I try one of my charming smiles?’
‘You try and put one in for me.’ David laughed. The young man smiled back.
‘Now we don’t know whether it’s you he’s trying to make a pass at or if he wants something more.’
‘What more is there?’
‘I’m going over to speak to them. See if my guess is right.’ Matt pushed back his chair and worked his way towards them turning over his first words in his mind but there was no need. The young man spoke first.
‘I’m glad you’ve come over. I was thinking I’d have to come and shove me way in soon.’
‘I wasn’t sure but I thought it was worth a try. I’m Matt.’
‘I’m George and this is Cathy. I brought her along tonight hoping she might meet some of the girls. You see she doesn’t know anyone or where to go or anything and this was the best I could do.’
‘Yes, I thought it was something like that. Would you both like to come over to our table and meet the others? I mustn’t be away from my drink for too long.’
‘You see I feel sort of responsible, wouldn’t like her to get in with a bad lot or get hurt.’
‘It’s alright George. I know what you mean. This isn’t a pickup. That’s my wife over there. Besides Cathy and I are too much alike for anything like that. I think we understand that straight away.’
David’s face shone with excitement for a moment and then took on a cool ease as the introductions were made. There’s two who won’t be cold tonight, Matt thought as Rae made room for Cathy and began to draw her out. Matt looked at the two heads bending towards each other to shut out the noise of the bar around and felt relaxed, almost happy. Something positive had been done against the common darkness and loneliness. Perhaps it was only the beginning of the ride on the merry-go-round that whirled them up and down, round and round faster and faster, throwing them against each other and then away again while the music brayed raucously, drowning all sense of time and meaning except that they must cling on and be carried round while the faces beyond blurred into a mist and earth and sky reeled together yet that after all was only one way of looking at it. This child might do better than the rest of them. At least she must be given the chance. What would Steve’s father say about suffering? She had suffered already. It was on her face. Now she needed to know that she was not alone. After that it must be up to her.
Above the din he caught some of her words to Rae ‘… to be a nurse.’
‘You know about the Nightingale of course.
Dearest, very Dearest—Very precious to me is your note. I almost hope you will not come tomorrow: the weather is so cold here. St. Mary’s expects you and next do I. Be sure that the word “trouble” is not known where you are concerned. Make up your dear mind to a long holiday: that’s what you have to do now. God bless you. We shall have time to talk.
F.N.’
‘Did she write that?’
‘Yes to one of her matrons. And there are dozens more. You could say it was just Victorian emotionalism of course. Lytton Strachey said it was the beginning of softening of the brain. He should talk but I suppose he didn’t want to recognise it as years of sublimation and repression coming out in the form of passionate, and pure of course, relationships with young nurses. That’s the only way her whole life makes any sense.’
‘Does it matter,’ Rae said, ‘whether she was or not? Does it make any real difference?’
‘Not in some ways of course but in others yes. You see unless we begin to understand all the springs of human conduct, all the manifestations of the human spirit how shall we ever keep up with our tremendous technological and scientific advances. What else have we got to offer on this side of the fence that’s comparable in importance?’
‘Do you always see things in this way?’ Cathy asked.
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well so big and weighty.’
Matt rubbed his eyes and brought his hands down over his mouth while he thought. Then he took them away and said, ‘Yes I suppose I do, don’t I darling? I’m a terrible pain in the neck really and an awful bore to live with. It’s my job you see, seeing things on a time scale instead of just what’s happening here and now with no before and after.’
‘What do you do then? It must be very interesting.’
‘Me, no. I work in a garage. I’m a fraud too you see. What’ll you both have to drink?’
‘How do you feel? As you’re driving …?’
He looked into himself and considered, took his pulse, examined his reflexes, ‘Alright, I’ll just have a half then.’ Once more he thrust himself forward into the mass that broke, yielded a little before him and suddenly he seemed to have been doing this all his life, thrusting against the press towards an imagined end and coming back with an easy answer to hand, a short cut to release, forgetfulness soon downed and the same trip to make again, arrivals and departures that lead nowhere from nowhere, phantom journeys giving an illusion of movement even of progress but when he looked out of the window the view was always the same. It’s that child, he thought, so sure, knowing what she wants quite clearly, bringing out a something in me that’s got buried so that I’m saying things to impress. Not that I don’t believe them when I stop to think about them at all these days. I seem to be coming to one of those points where all the lines converge, gather into one that rounds the corner and there it is stretching straight in front as far as you can see. Even Steve looks different tonight, less wary, gentler. Eddie’s her usual self. Cheerful and solid. David seems to be well away with George. Interesting to see the very first moment of an affair. Be good not to be in on the last for once.
‘When shall we go away?’ He looked down at her as he handed her the slim glass. We must give the child the possibility of love, he thought, even if we most of us lose it, betray it, and are we any worse than the rest of the world after all except that we admit defeat sooner, go back to square one.
‘Soon.’ She smiled as if she had lifted her glass to a toast. ‘Let’s make it soon.’ Turning from one to the other Cathy thought that it was possible then. Even if she never came again, didn’t meet anyone for a long time she had what she needed now. She found herself clenching her palms tight so that something almost tangible shouldn’t slip away. No need to search the faces in the crowds. If she wanted them she would know where to find them. Tomorrow she would fill in the forms and cross the road into the park.
They stood outside on the pavement after time, the voices still calling in the bar behind where the lights were almost out. David suggested a further call at one of the boys’ coffee clubs. George turned to Cathy.
‘You go,’ she said. ‘I’ve got things I want to do in the morning. Thanks George, thanks for bringing me. See you tomorrow afternoon. Don’t be late.’ The boys walked off down the street already moving together as if they were lovers.
‘Can we give you a lift?’ Rae asked.
‘No thanks. It’s not worth it. I’ll just hop on a bus over there.’
‘Anytime, you know where to find us.’
‘I’ll remember.’
‘Good luck. See you.’
‘See you.’
They watched her cross the road to the stop and join the short queue.
‘She’ll be alright won’t she?’
‘Oh yes.’
‘Not a bad evening.’
‘Not bad at all.’
As they drove home through the half lit streets she asked, ‘When shall we go?’
‘I’d say go tomorrow. Just put a couple of things in a case and off.’
‘Why don’t we do that?’
‘Where would we go? I haven’t
really thought about it yet.’
‘I have. We could go to Lexbourne.’
‘Good God, why there?’
‘I’ve got a friend who runs a hotel there. I’d only have to ring. It wouldn’t take long by car. I could ring in the morning and we could easily be there by lunch even with Saturday traffic.’
‘Who is this friend?’
‘Stag. Oh I’ve told you about her before.’
‘But not by name. Some butch character out of your past by the sound of it.’
‘Wait and see.’
‘Why there particularly?’
‘It’s convenient and she always treats you very well.’
‘Treats you well you mean.’
‘I think you’d find it interesting. I’d like to see you there.’
‘Okay then, we’ll go. I’m due a Saturday off. Old George can whistle for me for once. Pity it’s not warm enough for a swim yet but we could drive out into the forest for a walk. I’m tired of streets on streets for one time in my life. I want to see green instead of grey, rest the eyes. What’s she like Stag?’
‘Oh I’m not telling you; I want you to make up your own mind.’
‘They’ll miss us down the club.’
‘Why do you call it the House of Shades?
‘That’s what it is for me and most people down there.’
‘Why do you keep going then?’
‘I feel I have to, as if I’m involved. It’s a sort of Orpheus myth in reverse.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well you following me down there. It should be the other way round though I’ve often thought the traditional explanation would bear some looking into. Psychologically the bit that makes the most sense is the end where he’s torn to pieces by the elemental passions he’s denied. That’s just neat Freud. I don’t know. I suppose I have some crazy metaphysical illusion that I’m doing some good by going there, because I know, and so many don’t know, what it’s all about. They’re so busy living it they can’t stand back and look at it. Then sometimes I think that I’ll just clear out and leave them to get on with it like some people do but before I do that I want to be sure that I’m doing it for the right reason not just ducking out in order to conform, to get my share of the cream like everyone else. In a way it’s like grubbing about among the roots of buried towns, you never know what you might turn up, like that kid tonight. To be open that’s the thing and to be involved on all the other levels not just the personal. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, I think so. I mean I’m coming to understand more as you explain. It wasn’t easy at first.’
‘Poor darling. I’m sorry. Sometimes it’s so clear to me I forget you aren’t used to the way I go on. You deserve a weekend away among civilised people, a chance to see your friends instead of always having mine thrust down your throat. You ring in the morning and if it’s alright we’ll go. And the rest must do without us for once.’
SO IT better be time and a half too, dragging us in here like this on a Saturday morning, dragging us out of our nice warm beds, making us do without our little bit of Sat’day lie in and the only time we do get a little bit of the old how’s-your-father these days with Jonnie always so tired working her guts out til all hours every night just so’s we can live a bit near the mark, a bit like normal people, all them Joneses we’re supposed to be so hot on keeping up with like they’re always stuffing us with on the screen, the gogglebox like Matt says. And what was it she said now, she said we love it and hate it, love it and hate it sitting there night after night with only Mitzi for company the little darling, must bath her tomorrow when Jonnie’s home to help me cos she struggles like a little demon for all she’s only a scrap, nothing of her at all when you come to pick her up but she does her little best snuggling up to me so’s I won’t be too lonely as if she knew somehow and we sit there hour after hour loving it and hating it because there’s so many things I could be doing about the flat if only I could tear meself away but I seem so tired somehow so gawd knows how Jonnie must feel and it’s wrong of me I know to take it out of her when she comes in, but I can’t help it, making up to her, smooching round her for a little bit of the old you-know and feeling all aggrieved when she turns away only wanting a cup of tea and a sit by the fire and I can see it going through her head what have I been doing all evening but she’s too tired to come out straight with it so it’s never brought out in the open for an airing, only I see her looking round at the dust you could write your name in on every flat top and thick enough to grow carrots along the ledges and me still sitting there in me old slacks like I just come in from work, with me hair a mess of tangles and me face gone all blotchy from the fire. Oh I see when I go out to put the kettle on, catch a sight of meself in the glass and think what a fright to come home to. You watch it my girl as mum would say or one day she may not be so keen to come home.
It’s them lovely women on the telly that do it though, I mean spoil you for yourself knowing you can never be all smooth and glossy like that even if you used wonderful pink olé for a lifetime and laid in a bathful of it till the cows come home because you just wasn’t born right somehow, behind the door when the good looks were given out, not that there’s anything wrong with your face when you take it to bits and look at the nose and the eyes and all that separately. They’re all there for a start, not like them old tarts you hear of been on the bash too long and start dropping apart like leprosy and how they must stink. I don’t know how Jonnie could. And it’s not as if you’d got a blinding great wart or something on the end of your nose or your eyes was crossed but it’s just that you was behind the door, backward in coming forward for once so you’ll never make one of them lovely women smooth as drinking cream like Rae for instance. She’s got it and I see just what Matt sees in her like one of the filmstars in the picture annuals, not a modern face like the bits of kids you get down the House but more to it somehow so that she could never look common even if she tried and that’s why some of ’em don’t get on with her because she’s a cut above them and sits there quiet, not that she’d even think it because she’s not like that and one of the nicest people to talk to if you can get her on her own and you’ve got troubles you want to get rid of on someone. But she’s got it by nature, born with it and you wasn’t and that’s all there is to it and it’s not that you begrudge it to her but it makes you kind of despair knowing you’re not even a starter in the beauty stakes as they call it on the box when they have that Miss World contest and they’re all lined up in their next-to-nothings so a lot of dirty old men can slobber all over them like the slave markets you see in them Biblical pictures.
Look at her down there now working away so all I can see really is her curly black hair with not a grey one in it yet and I’ll make her touch it up as soon as they start showing cos I’m not having my Jonnie looking old even if it is supposed to be distinguished. All the filmstars die their hair men as well as women so why shouldn’t others and it does you good makes you feel younger if you look it and she’s got such a slim figure still, looks real handsome in her best suit not like some of them fleshy butches you see about and even Matt’s starting to put it on a bit though maybe that’s the winter like that programme on bears I saw where they put on pounds to see them through hibernation and there’s a big word for something I wouldn’t have known except for the box so it’s not all rubbish they put on there though I should have known it from school I suppose if I’d paid any attention or had any brains. And that was something they didn’t teach us in nature study only about the birds and the bees and only then how to get a baby and what happens to it inside of you though we knew all the rest anyway from each other and who had seen their mum and dad having it away and whose big sister was expecting but what I’ve needed to know since they never told us, don’t suppose they knew theirselves some of them though looking back there was one or two of the teachers I wouldn’t be so sure about knowing what I do now with that Steve and the others who come down the club, still if they
were they never let on to us. That’s why I didn’t know when the girls started calling me names and just because me and Sheila was friends and didn’t run after the boys like all the rest. After all we was only kids of thirteen and how the others knew there were such things I don’t know cos I’d never heard the word before and even when I did I went running home to ask mum what it meant and even she a married woman and dad was never finicky with his language still she didn’t know.
‘What’s that bloke doing in among all them girls?’ that man in the blue suit wanted to know when the foreman showed him our shop. Laugh though I went a bit hot and cold at first wondering if the others had heard and what they’d say but funny they never said nothing cos they seem as if they take Jonnie for granted. Being in the army so long I suppose they think makes her a bit different, a bit strange and the foreman he never says nothing neither cos he knows she’s the best worker in the shop and don’t waste no time chinwagging with the others and always keen to do a bit of overtime. Gawd knows how we’d manage otherwise with the lousy wages they give you here, and the rent of the flat but she would have it we must have a decent home although now I’ve got it I hardly know what to do with it being dragged up to newspaper on the table and hardly a stick of furniture cos he’d never give her anything towards it, food money that was all and not much of that and the few chattels we had were chuckouts from the neighbours like the clothes to our backs was handmedowns. Still we had a bit of fun in them days when he was out of the house til he come home knocking our heads together and clouting her round the earhole til she fell against the scullery wall and her face was the colour of dirty sheets not so much because of the pain, no not so much that though he hurt her we could all see more than he hurt us but for the hurt inside and the foul language that seemed to stick to you and thick the air like an open sewer. Seven colours of shit that’s what he used to say he’d knock out of us. Played on me mind as a kid so I was always imagining it and making me stomach throw up and I imagined other people could see it too, the kids and the teachers at school so they’d turn their noses up at me and point. ‘That girl’s …’ Oh it doesn’t do to think about it too much even now how we lived from poverty to poverty in them days.
The Microcosm Page 22