Alfie

by Bill Naughton

  ‘I have,’ he said. ‘She’s very kind, but she doesn’t want to know. Not that I blame her.’

  ‘But you felt with me out of the way—’ I said.

  ‘I suppose you could say that. With the coast clear you never knew what would happen. And I felt if you were only passing the time—’

  ‘Know what,’ I said, ‘I might be able to put a good word in for you.’

  ‘No thanks,’ he said. ‘I can put my own good words in – once I know I’m in the running.’

  ‘If she won’t marry you now, mate,’ I said, ‘she’ll never marry you.’ Yet I had to admit to myself there was more to him than I’d thought.

  ‘Why,’ he said, ‘I don’t know about that, I don’t know at all.’

  ‘I do,’ I said, ‘so long.’

  As I was going off he looked at me and said, ‘Never is a long time.’ I couldn’t make out quite what he meant but he had a funny way of looking. I went into Gilda’s.

  Somehow she looked different to me.

  ‘Hallo, Alfie,’ she said. I gave her a kiss. ‘Would you like some coffee?’ she said.

  ‘Never shove things at me as soon as I get in, gal,’ I said. ‘I always like to get my bearings first.’

  ‘The kettle’s nearly boiling.’

  ‘Never mind the kettle,’ I said. ‘Is there any news? Any reports from the front?’

  ‘What? Oh! No, not yet.’

  ‘We’ll definitely have to do something about this little lot,’ I said.

  ‘I’ve tried everything, Alfie,’ she said. I looked at her. ‘I mean everything you hear about, Epsom’s salts, gin, and some pills a girl got me.’

  ‘You mean you’ve been taking stuff on the quiet?’ I said. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘I didn’t want to worry you,’ she said.

  ‘You worry me all the more,’ I said. ‘I wondered why you were looking so ropey. You don’t want to make yourself ill, gal.’ I looked at her little face, it looked so white and pinched, I felt a little spasm of sympathy or something come over me. I put my arms round her just to comfort her a bit. She presses close up to me, must be thinking I wanted to make love to her, but to be quite frank it’s the last thing on my mind at that moment.

  ‘You’re getting very cooey lately, Gilda,’ I said.

  She had a hurt look in her eyes and I was sorry I’d spoke. ‘I don’t mind,’ I said, ‘except I don’t like things to be sprung on me, if you see what I mean. I might not be in the mood. Love’s like dancing, Gilda, always take your move from the man, but be quick to follow.’

  ‘Do you love me, Alfie?’ she said.

  ‘What have I told you about asking questions like that at awkward times?’ I said. ‘You know. I’ll always tell you when I feel like it.’ I was sorry I’d spoke to her like that so I gave her a kiss. ‘Here, you wouldn’t fancy marrying old Humphrey would you?’ I said.

  ‘Alfie!’ she said.

  ‘Now don’t get me wrong, gal,’ I said. ‘I just like to see everybody happy.’ The thought went through my mind that they could have made each other happy. ‘It’s regular work, you know.’

  ‘What is?’

  ‘Inspecting on the buses,’ I said. ‘They work shifts mostly, so it wouldn’t interfere too much between you and me, except nights would be out.’

  She took it quite calmly: ‘When I get married,’ she said, ‘that’s one worry my husband won’t have. It doesn’t matter who he is.’

  I could see she meant it. I didn’t know what to say, so I gave her a kiss. Her lips felt very full, juicy and warm. In fact her whole body felt good. ‘I think I will have that coffee after all,’ I said.

  ‘I’ll not be a minute,’ she said.

  I sometimes give way to the quick impulse, but generally speaking it pays to pick the time not let it pick you. She went in to the kitchen and I began to walk about thinking what a mess I’d got myself into. The funny thing was I could remember exactly when it had happened. It was one Sunday tea-time when I hadn’t felt a bit like it and somehow not having my mind on the job I’d been careless. She comes in with the coffee and a big cake on a tray. ‘Where’d you get that from?’ I said.

  ‘I baked it,’ she said. ‘It’s an old-fashioned fruit cake.’ You can say that again, I thought. It seemed like my heart sank. I had a feeling I was being drawn into something all domestified. Funny, but when I took a bite of the cake it tasted quite good.

  ‘I’ve been thinking, Alfie,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, yeh,’ I said, not listening to her. I mean what bloke wants to know what a bird has been thinking – what they say is bad enough.

  ‘Could we go through with it?’ she said.

  I’d had a feeling she was going to say something like that and yet it gave me a shock when she said it.

  ‘Go through with it!’ I said, ‘Blimey, what an ’orrible thought!’ It was too. I hate it when a woman’s got something wrong with her.

  ‘Don’t worry, Alfie,’ she said.

  ‘You can talk,’ I said. ‘I ain’t gone through with anything in all my life. I mean I ain’t in no condition for getting hitched up.’

  ‘You wouldn’t need to,’ she said.

  ‘I mean if I was to marry you, gal, you might gain a husband,’ I said, ‘but you’d lose a bleedin’ good friend.’

  ‘I’ve got it all worked out, Alfie.’

  ‘You ask any married woman which she values most,’ I said. ‘They’ve all got husbands, but how many have got good friends? You can turn to a friend, but not to a husband. I don’t know what you’ve got worked out, gal, but you gotta think twice before you turn a little creature out into this world.’

  ‘I wouldn’t turn him out, Alfie.’

  ‘I don’t mean that turn him out – I mean bring him in.’

  ‘I’d get him adopted,’ she said.

  ‘Adopted,’ I said, ‘adopted! Wot are you talking about – adopted?’

  ‘By a rich woman, see. You can read about it in the papers – how they’re always on the look-out for children to adopt.’

  ‘A rich woman, yeh, I see wot you mean.’ I’d never thought of that. It suddenly struck me that these rich film stars were often after babies to adopt. I quite fancied the idea of a kid of mine having his own swimming-pool. Not that he could ask me round but you never know.

  ‘I’d like to do that much for him. I know he’d have a good life then,’ she said.

  ‘But you can’t be certain there’s something there yet,’ I said, and I patted her little round stomach.

  ‘In bed last night, Alfie,’ she said, ‘I thought I felt him kick.’

  That gave me a right shock. I mean you’re standing there talking to a bird and she’s trying to tell you there’s a kid inside her kicking or something. ‘Kick!’ I said – ‘how the ’ell can they kick? It won’t be the size of my thumbnail.’

  ‘That’s what they say, Alfie. I don’t know if it’s true. I’ll tell you next time it happens and you can feel.’

  ‘You’ll do nothing of the sort,’ I told her. ‘And listen, if you’re going to come out with that sort of chat, I’m off.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to upset you, Alfie,’ she said. ‘Mrs Artoni used to call her husband when she was like that and it moved.’

  ‘Mrs Artoni can call who she wants,’ I said, ‘so long as she don’t call me.’ I’m very sensitive about such things. ‘D’you remember that big bird I used to dance with at the Locarno?’

  ‘You mean the ugly one?’

  ‘She wasn’t all that ugly, and she was a beautiful dancer. I remember one Sunday night she showed me ’er operation scar what they made when she was a kid. A long scar it was with all white skin round it. Know what – I got straight out of bed, I did, an’ put my clobber on. “What’s up with you?” she says. “I’d sooner go out an’ see a bleedin’ horror film,” I says, “than a thing like that.” It don’t half put me off, it do.’

  ‘Alfie,’ she said, ‘can I – can I go through with it – and ha
ve the baby?’

  I looked at her and saw she was near tears and was begging of me as though I could give her the earth. Now at times like that it seems as if the mind in my head turns itself inside-out and I begin to see things in a new light. After all, why should she ask me for anything. I mean, she was nearly making me feel ashamed of myself. ‘What are you asking me for,’ I said. ‘It’s your’n, ain’t it. If you set your mind on something you go through with it. I always do. And there’s nobody in the world can stop you.’ She came into my arms and starts sobbing fit to break her heart. ‘Steady on, gal,’ I said.

  I could feel her shaking from top to toe. Now if there’s one thing I hate, it’s a bird getting all weepy on me. I mean, what with her face all wet and hot from tears, and the feel of those wet eyelashes on your skin, and the funny sounds they make in their throats – I mean short of giving them a swipe across the kisser and telling them to belt up you’ve got to feel with them. And if I once give way to my feelings I get tears come into my eyes, straight up I do, and I get a funny swallowy lump around my adam’s apple. So if a bird hasn’t caught you one way she’s caught you another.

  And there she is a-sobbing against me and I know for certain she’s going to mess up the lapel of my jacket but what can you do? Anyway, I pull my jacket out and let her do it against my shirt and pat her back at the same time. Then suddenly, another thought crossed my mind. ‘Here, you ain’t corning it on me, Gilda, are you – trying to swing it?’

  ‘Swing what?’

  ‘You know,’ I said, ‘once he’s born swing the old ’filiation order – two nicker a week until he’s sixteen.’

  I could see by the way she looked at me the thought had never even entered her head.

  ‘I think you know me better than that, Alfie,’ she said. I was sorry I’d spoke. That’s my trouble. I no sooner think something than out it comes. I can’t keep anything to myself.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Little Gilda was quite happy those months she was carrying, as they call it. (I don’t know why it is but I never like coming out with words like ‘carrying’, ‘expectant’, ‘pregnant’ or anything of that sort – seems like they’re women’s words.) At times, in fact, I thought she was a bit too cheerful. I always maintain there’s a time and place for everything, and it didn’t seem to be quite the right time for her having suddenly come into happiness. I mean if ever I slipped in on the quiet I’d be sure to hear her humming or singing to herself. And on Sunday mornings I’d let her bring me breakfast to bed; although to be quite frank I’d as soon get up, but you should never stop a woman from doing things for you since it only frustrates ’em. And she’d be all smiles as she popped the tray in front of me. Course it meant a little morning matinee afterwards, so in a way she was doing herself a good turn as well as me.

  I like thinking things over, and the thought struck me it must bring out some new strength in a woman when she’s like that. Otherwise how can you account for ’em going through months of sickness, swelling up until they’re right misshaped bags, coming out in varicose veins on their legs and red stretched out marks on their stomachs, and still at the end they’re hobbling about quite pleased with their little selves? Another funny thing I noticed on Gilda, she came over quite beautified, especially in the early months, both in her face and her little figure, and I told her more than once, ‘Blimey, gal, you ain’t as ugly as I thought.’

  I quite enjoyed my little self during that time. Here come to think of it, these geezers in the days gone by, I mean our grandads and great grandads, whilst they might have had a lot of worries on their minds about one thing and another, I mean, poverty, diseases and whatnot, there was one trouble they didn’t have – they never had to keep their eye on the calendar – know what I mean? They can say what they want about the Pill and one thing and another but one of the greatest reliefs a man can have – or a woman come to that – is to let Nature take its course. They might have had their nines and tens in families, their thirteens and fourteens or even their nineteens and twenties, with the home crowded out with loads of kids, but once they went to bed at night – or afternoon come to that – they could relax and take their pleasure as it came. You get your number one need satisfied, and I’ve found that after that the rest have a way of falling into place.

  Mind you I didn’t fancy being seen out with little Gilda after about the fifth month – not a woman in that condition or anything like that. Funny, but it didn’t seem to show until she was about six months gone. Little hard stomachs they’ve got when young, I suppose. Course she didn’t mind who saw her, which only goes to prove what I’ve always said, that men are more sensitive than women. And towards the end I didn’t even fancy being inside with her, if you follow me. It wasn’t that I was nervous she’d start having it when I was around – although I was nervous that she might – it was more the feeling that I’d got myself lumbered. You get a pregnant woman beside you and you don’t feel a free man any more. Right enough we weren’t married, and we had no intention of marrying – leastways one of us hadn’t – and she was going to have the kid adopted and in a month or two we’d be back where we started, or near enough, although you can never be dead sure after a thing like that; but I’d always been used to having Gilda around and more or less ignoring her except at certain times, but you can’t ignore a woman who is eight months gone.

  Well, not entirely; although I dare say you could after a few times. On top of that I used to get funny little thoughts cross my mind as I watched her padding round the room. I mean they might look a bit odd, a bit out of shape, and be troubled with the wind – at least Gilda was, and I put it down to all the fruit she ate to keep him fit – but you’ve got to admit it’s the one time when a woman comes out superior to a man. And they do it by not wanting to be superior or anything. They can just be themselves, see. And I was able to see how some little married bloke and his wife could be quite happy over their first-born.

  Now if you get lots of those thoughts going through your mind they can begin to upset your way of life. I’d be out with another bird and blow me down if I wouldn’t start thinking about Gilda and the kid.

  Naturally I’ve got one or two others on the go at the same time. Same as I say, I find the ideal number is three. You can nearly always be sure at least one’s in good form, if you see what I mean. If you’ve only two, things very often coincide. Whereas if you’ve got four you’re apt to get rushed, to get some overlapping, and you can’t concentrate on each one the same. And with three, if you’ve had a row with one you can keep thinking of the other two, or if with two of the other one. Always give yourself something to play with.

  There was this manageress of a dry-cleaner’s I was having it off with – I used to get my suit cleaned in the bargain. You can’t turn something like that down. Her name was Milly, and I’d go round with a suit (and sometimes work a couple of ties in as well) after the shop was closed. I had my own little knock which she knew, and she’d come and let me in. She always liked to get her books and things straight first, and once she had done we’d move over to the laundry corner and have a bit of an up-and-downer amongst the sheets, tablecloths, blankets and whatnot. Now when we’d done we’d get ourselves tidy, and I’d pick up my last week’s suit and we’d drive off to a quiet little pub. She always liked a Mackeson after her day’s work and I’d have a pint of brown-and-mild. Then I’d listen to her troubles. You’ve got to listen to their troubles if you want to get anywhere with a woman. They’re not only in need of a laugh, same as I said, but they’re longing for a chat. So I’d listen to all its little problems, then it would pay a round, then I’d pay the next round, and it’s time for going. Right, I’m a Mackeson down on the deal – but I’ve had a suit cleaned, like as not a tie, and I’ve had a wrap-up amongst the sheets in the bargain. It seemed such a good bargain with Milly that it went on for months.

  But in time – whilst Gilda was like that – it suddenly struck me that I wasn’t really enjoying it. And by chance it ca
me one Monday and I’d nothing I could lay my hands on to have dry-cleaned. So I telephones her to say I can’t make it – I’d never do the dirty on a woman, have her waiting. And it struck me that night what a mug I’d been – never spotting how you can have a good time and not see that you ain’t enjoying it, if you know what I mean. Course it’s very hard to resist a bargain. But once I had done I began to see I’d never had Milly in the best of condition; I mean what can you expect if she’d been on her feet nine hours, her mind full of re-texing, proofing and whatnot – and come to think of it, there was always a faint pong of dry-cleaning stuff on her.

  Now to get back to this Gilda. Once she got near her time, this Mrs Artoni from the café and one or two neighbours seemed all eager to help. Funny, ain’t it, you pick up the papers and read ’em and you’d think there was nothing else went on in this world but raping and coshing and robbing, but once you move out amongst the people with women having kids and one thing and another, you’ll find people are quite kind. It surprised me, it did. They were taking over, and once or twice I’d almost to remind them that after all I was the Dad.

  So then in she goes to hospital. I wasn’t there and I didn’t see it, but from all accounts that kid comes out a treat, right bang on the minute you might say. I mean I could hardly believe it because most of the kids belonging to relations of mine were all premature or something. And never stuck their heads out of an oxygen tent until they were about six months old. They’d all two birthdays, or ages or something – the age they are and the age they would have been if only they’d have waited for the right time to be born. I didn’t fancy going to the hospital to see her and I thought I’d wait until she came out, but on the Sunday afternoon I don’t know what came over me but I finds myself walking round the hospital and the next thing I buys some flowers and a bunch of grapes and in I went to see her.

  A funny smell hospitals have. I wonder how it is they can never get rid of it. I didn’t fancy going into the ward. At first I thought I’d made a mistake and I was going out when this Mrs Artoni came running and calling after me. I mean I’d looked round and I’d seen all the faces and I’d seen this woman sitting up in bed but somehow I’d never thought it was Gilda. Her face looked so different. Perhaps it was having had the kid, or it might have been having been looked after for ten days and having had a good rest. I can’t describe it properly but her face looked very white in places and nicely rosy in others and very clean and rested.