Saville

by David Storey

  Audrey and Marion sat together, with Stafford on one side and Colin on the other. At one point, near the beginning of the picture, Stafford had leant his arm around the back of Marion’s seat and, a little later, placed his hand beneath her arm. Audrey sat rigidly beside Colin. His elbow, which he’d left on the arm of the seat, was touching hers; his knee, which he’d turned towards her, had caught against hers, briefly, before one of them, his or hers, he couldn’t be sure, had been drawn away.

  The picture droned on, flanked by curtains. At the end the lights came on and Stafford withdrawing his arm, brought out a cigarette case from his inside pocket.

  ‘Do you fancy a smoke?’ he said casually, leaning across and offering one to Colin.

  ‘No thanks,’ he said and shook his head.

  ‘Marion, darling?’ Stafford said.

  ‘Thank you, darling,’ Marion said.

  ‘Audrey, darling?’

  ‘No thank you, Neville.’

  They sat in silence for a while. People went in and out to the sweet stall in the foyer. Faintly, through an open door, came the sound of traffic; a glimmer of daylight showed beneath a tasselled curtain.

  Stafford lit Marion’s cigarette with a lighter and then lit his own. They blew out clouds of smoke past Audrey’s face. Their cigarettes alight, Stafford replaced his arm on the back of Marion’s seat.

  ‘I don’t think much of the picture,’ Marion said.

  ‘Same here,’ Stafford said. He stroked Marion’s hair casually, almost absent-minded, gazing down to the heads below.

  ‘What’s the second one called?’ Marion said.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Stafford said. He shook his head, the cigarette slipped in between his lips. Marion held hers between her fingers stiffly, her hand held up against her face, her lips pouting, her head erect.

  ‘Fancy anything to eat, Smithers?’ Stafford said.

  ‘No thanks,’ Audrey said and shook her head. Her elbow, now the lights were on, had been lowered slowly against her side.

  ‘Can I get you anything?’ Colin said.

  ‘No thanks,’ she said again.

  ‘Get you anything, Colin?’ Stafford said.

  ‘No thanks,’ he said.

  Stafford looked round at the other couples; there were one or two other boys from the school, and one or two girls from the girls’ school sitting in pairs. Most of them Colin scarcely knew; he sat gazing steadily at the folds of the heavy curtain, and the heads, mainly of children, visible in the stalls below.

  Stafford had called out to several boys in the rows in front, and one of them came back to lean over the adjoining seats and to take a cigarette.

  ‘Hello, darling,’ Marion said.

  ‘Hello, Marion,’ the boy had said, stooping to Stafford’s lighter then puffing out, briskly, a massive cloud of smoke.

  ‘Isn’t Shirley with you today?’ she said.

  ‘I’m with Eileen today, my dear,’ he said, winking at Stafford who immediately laughed.

  ‘I’d be careful with her, my darling,’ Marion said, puffing slowly at her cigarette. She held it to her mouth as if she were kissing the palm of her hand. As the two boys laughed she crossed her legs and Stafford, who was glancing down, placed his hand across her knee. ‘None of that, my dear,’ she added and leaving the cigarette between her lips carefully withdrew it.

  The lights went out. The second film began: Marion sank lower in her seat. When Colin glanced across he saw their heads seemingly locked together, their cigarettes glowing as they held them out.

  He moved his arm against Audrey’s but otherwise gazed vacantly before him at the screen.

  Later, outside, Stafford said, ‘Fancy a walk, or a cup of tea?’

  ‘Can you get tea at this time?’ Marion said.

  ‘There’s a place in the market I sometimes go to,’ Stafford said. He put his arm around Marion’s waist, but as she straightened her coat she lifted it away.

  ‘Honestly, if we’re seen in the streets, we’ll never hear the end of it. Not from Miss Wilkinson, at least,’ she said. ‘There’s going to be a school rule that we can’t even talk to boys in school uniform. Isn’t that true?’ She turned to Audrey.

  They walked in pairs, Stafford and Marion in front, the dark-haired girl frequently turning round to pass some comment. They talked mainly about girls at the school, and boys they’d heard about in conversations.

  ‘They take a groundsheet and go out to Bratley Woods. Honestly, if anyone saw them, they’d be expelled.’

  ‘I’ve got a groundsheet,’ Stafford said.

  ‘You’re not getting me to share it,’ Marion said. ‘Honestly, give them half an inch and they want a mile.’

  They reached the market; numerous canvas-covered stalls were set out in rows in front of an ancient, brick-built market-hall. Arched entrances led to the gas-illuminated stalls inside. At each corner of the square stood a tiny shop, the windows of which had been drawn up: at one of them women were serving tea. One or two buns were for sale inside.

  ‘What’s it to be, then, ladies?’ Stafford said, and added, ‘No, no, on me, old man,’ when Colin began feeling in his pockets. He had no more money anyway, only the torn half of his return ticket.

  They stood by the stall, drinking the tea and eating buns.

  ‘How’re we fixed for next Saturday, ladies?’ Stafford said. He stood in the centre of the footpath to drink his tea so that people passing had to step into the road.

  ‘We’re fixed very well, aren’t we, Audrey?’ Marion said. ‘I don’t know about you and Colin, though,’ she added, laughing then, her cup standing in its saucer on the counter.

  ‘Heart-breakers, these two, Colin,’ Stafford said.

  ‘We just don’t choose anyone to go out with, do we, Audrey?’ Marion said.

  Audrey shook her head. She had on a light-coloured coat with a fur collar. The cuffs were also trimmed with fur. Her hair, which normally hung straight down, had been curled up around the edges. Marion wore a jacket with slanted pockets. She’d folded a silk scarf around her hair.

  ‘You don’t know what other invitations we might have had, do they, Audrey?’ Marion said.

  Audrey scarcely drank her tea; the bun which Stafford had bought her she’d left untouched. Colin thought of eating it himself, asking her finally as they turned to leave.

  ‘I’m not feeling very hungry. You have it,’ she said, pleased that he’d thought to ask.

  He ate it as they walked along. They passed through the crowds at the edge of the market, the two girls walking arm in arm, Colin on one side, when the crowds permitted, and Stafford on the other.

  ‘Fancy a stroll in the Park, my darling?’ Stafford said.

  ‘We know why you want to stroll in the Park. Don’t we, Audrey?’Marion said.

  Audrey glanced at Colin and began to smile.

  ‘He’s only one thought in his mind, has that young man,’ Marion added.

  Audrey laughed and shook her head. She flung out the hair around her collar. Vast crowds were now moving through the town, flooding the pavements and spreading to the road.

  ‘We could observe the trees, not to mention the ducks and the other appurtenances of the natural life,’ Stafford said.

  ‘Just listen to his language,’ Marion said. ‘That’s what comes from studying Latin.’

  ‘Don’t you study Latin?’ Stafford said.

  ‘Audrey studies Latin. I study modern languages,’ Marion said.

  They passed through the city centre and turned down a steep, cobbled alleyway leading to the station. The two girls now had walked ahead, the pavement, after the confusion of the street, comparatively deserted.

  ‘We’re just watching your legs, Marion,’ Stafford said as they walked behind.

  Marion was wearing stockings with a seam; Audrey wore small white ankle socks.

  ‘I’ll ask you to keep your eyes elsewhere,’ Marion said, only her ankles and the lower half of her calves visible beneath the hem of her skirt.r />
  ‘Where else would you like me to keep them?’ Stafford said.

  ‘If you were a gentleman I’m sure you wouldn’t have to ask, my darling,’ Marion said, walking with something of a swagger.

  ‘I could look a little higher, but then your back’s turned to us, darling,’ Stafford said.

  ‘We’ve nothing to reveal to you, my darling,’ Marion said, fastening her arm securely now in Audrey’s. ‘Have we, Audrey, dear?’ she added.

  Ahead of them, at the top of a flight of steps, appeared the station yard.

  ‘In any case, we’re expected home for tea. Aren’t we, darling?’ Marion turned towards the steps. She and Audrey ran up together.

  ‘I say, you ought to go up more discreetly,’ Stafford said. ‘You can’t imagine how revealing it is to those who follow on behind.’

  The two girls, however, had started laughing, their arms if anything bound closer, running now across the yard to the black, stone profile of the station. Low, with a steeply angled roof and a tall stone tower surmounted by a clock, the yard was partly covered by a metal canopy. The two girls, darting between the taxis, disappeared inside.

  ‘What time is the train due?’ Colin said.

  ‘Usually we get the five o’clock. Though I suppose it’s going to be crowded,’ Stafford said. ‘If you get the four o’clock it’s often empty, and you can get a compartment to yourself.’ He looked across. ‘Aren’t you coming on the train?’

  ‘I’ve got no money. Just the return for the bus,’ he said.

  ‘I’ll lend you it. I’m loaded,’ Stafford said. ‘You can pay us back whenever you like.’ He took his arm. ‘They’ll be expecting you to be on the train,’ he added.

  He let Stafford buy the ticket. They went through the wooden barrier and on to the platform. The two girls were waiting at the opposite end. They were standing on a trolley, looking over a railing to the street below. Double-decker buses passed through a tunnel beneath the station.

  Beyond the end of the platform the lines curved off towards the river; in the farthest distance a broad vista of wooded hill-land, broken here and there by colliery slag-heaps, stretched away from the fringes of the town.

  ‘See what you can hit, then,’ Stafford said and gave several copper coins to each of the girls.

  ‘I don’t want them,’ Audrey said. She handed them to Colin.

  Marion was already leaning through the railings; she let a coin drop and they watched it bounce then roll, briefly, on the cobbled road below. Stafford dropped his: it bounced on the roof of a bus and then to the road. The girls laughed, quickly, drawing back their heads.

  ‘Honestly, they’ll be coming up if you keep on doing that, my darling,’ Marion said. She dropped another coin herself, laughing then as the crowd, hearing the tinkle of the coin, looked up.

  ‘If it hits anybody’s head it’s bound to hurt them,’ Audrey said.

  ‘Oh, we only drop them lightly, don’t we, darling?’ Stafford said.

  The train came in. The engine, slowing, lumbered to the bridge.

  Two people got out of the first compartment and Stafford climbed inside. He pulled down the blinds on the windows, then when they’d climbed in, he fastened the door.

  ‘Sit by the windows, girls,’ he said. ‘And make it seem we’re full inside.’

  He lowered the window and peered outside.

  ‘Nobody comes in if you lean out looking anxious. They always think it’s full,’ he said, gazing mournfully along the platform. Other doors were slammed. A whistle blew.

  The train lurched forward, slowed, then, swaying, crossed the bridge. The pounding of the engine came through the carriage wall.

  ‘Isn’t it dark? Who’s this, then?’ Stafford said. Having raised the window and lowered the blind he groped along the bench-like seat.

  The girls had screamed.

  ‘Hey, Colin. Come and help me, then,’ he said.

  The girls had screamed again.

  ‘Whose is this arm, then?’ Stafford said. ‘Hey,’ he added. ‘I’ve found a leg.’

  Marion screamed.

  Colin found Audrey between his arms. He drew her to him, pressed his lips against her, found her cheek, then, when he pressed his lips against her once again he kissed her hair.

  He heard her laugh.

  She tried to move away. He held her tightly. Briefly, then, their lips had met.

  The pounding of the train grew louder, the track enclosed between high walls.

  The sound had faded.

  ‘Honestly,’ Marion said across the carriage. ‘I can’t have that.’

  A blind went up.

  A flood of daylight filled the carriage.

  ‘Honestly, he’s terrible,’ Marion said. She was pressed up now against the wall, Stafford lying full length along the bench.

  Colin, releasing Audrey, drew back against the seat, glancing briefly at her face and then at Stafford.

  ‘I’ll sit beside you, Audrey,’ Marion said, easing herself round Stafford’s outstretched arm and sinking down on the seat beside her. ‘Honestly, aren’t they terrible?’ she said.

  Stafford, kneeling, reached over to the blind.

  ‘See what we can find this time, then,’ he said.

  The blind pulled down and fastened, Marion then Audrey screamed again. Colin felt the shape pressed down towards him and put out his arm to hold Audrey once again.

  He felt her arm and then her waist. He leant his head towards her, found her lips and for a moment they clung together, jarred by the lurching of Marion on the other side.

  ‘Honestly,’ Marion said, ‘he’s awful,’ and gave yet another scream, much louder than the rest.

  ‘Feel there. Honestly, I never knew she wore them,’ Stafford said.

  A blind went up.

  ‘Honestly,’ Marion said. Her face was red. She tugged down her skirt then fastened her coat. She released another blind and then, stepping quickly across the carriage, released the rest.

  Stafford sank back against the bench. He brushed back his hair and began to whistle, gazing out, abstracted, to the fields passing now below the track.

  They crossed the river: a dark expanse of water coiled off between low, half-flooded banks.

  ‘Honestly, he’s so awful,’ Marion said. She’d taken a comb from her jacket pocket and standing to look into one of the framed pictures on the compartment wall she combed her hair.

  Audrey, her hands clasped in her lap, sat by Colin; she gazed past him to the opposite window where the profile of the town stood up, outlined, like a wall of rock.

  ‘Are you getting off at Saxton?’ Stafford said.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I suppose I shall.’

  ‘I might get off as well, then,’ Stafford said.

  ‘Listen to him. Sulking,’ Marion said. ‘He’s got miles to walk if he gets off there.’

  ‘Where do you get off, Audrey?’ Colin said.

  ‘I get off at Drayton,’ she said, naming a village some distance farther on.

  ‘I suppose I’ll have to go home with glad-hands,’ Marion said. ‘Unless he gets off at Saxton with his bosom-friend.’

  ‘I might get off. I might not, then,’ Stafford said.

  ‘Honestly, he’s so awful. You never feel safe when he’s near you,’ Marion said.

  She sat down now on the other side.

  ‘Don’t come near me,’ she added when Stafford went across.

  He sat beside her for a while, his arms folded, gazing at Audrey and then at Colin.

  ‘Honestly, I haven’t done a thing. What’s she going on about?’ he said.

  ‘Not in daylight,’ Marion said.

  ‘Why not try the blinds down. The light’s too strong for me,’ he said.

  ‘Over my dead body, darling,’ Marion said.

  They sat in silence for a while. The train drew into a station. Doors were slammed. A whistle blew.

  Smoke billowed down beside the carriage.

  The engine lurched. They moved of
f again between hedged fields.

  ‘Honestly,’ Marion said again when Stafford raised one arm and, cautiously, put it round her waist. He kissed her cheek.

  ‘There then, my darling. I never meant no harm.’

  ‘That’s not what it felt like, my darling,’ Marion said.

  ‘But what’s this feel like, my darling,’ Stafford said and, more slowly, kissed her cheek again.

  Marion had turned her head towards him. They kissed silently for a while, their arms finally entwined together.

  Colin put his arm round Audrey. He held her lightly, afraid to see her face or glance towards her. As if absorbed by the passing fields and hedges, they gazed out through the window, swaying slightly, jarring, to the movement of the carriage.

  Another station came. Stafford, alarmed, leapt up to the door. He leant out of the window until the whistle blew, then fell back in the seat, his arms once again, outstretched, enclosing Marion. They kissed each other silently as the train began to move.

  More fields passed; a colliery yard. The train clattered through a cutting, the rock walls hidden by clouds of steam.

  Finally the fields around Saxton appeared on either side. Beyond the summit of a hill he could see the colliery mound.

  ‘I’ll get out here,’ he said and waited then while Stafford found the ticket. He got up to the door as the train pulled into the narrow cutting. ‘I’ll see you, then,’ he said and nodded, flushing, Stafford, his arm round Marion, having scarcely raised his head.

  ‘You’re getting off here, darling?’ Marion said as if suddenly aware, then, of him standing by the door, lowering the window and reaching the handle. ‘Aren’t you kissing Audrey goodbye?’

  He leaned down briefly and brushed her cheek.

  ‘I’ll see you, then,’ he said and stepped down to the platform. He closed the door and glanced inside.

  Audrey hadn’t moved; red-cheeked, her hair disarranged, she gazed out at him from across the carriage. He glanced back along the platform, wondering when the train might move.

  A porter came past and tested the door, then went back along the platform shutting others.