JUNE 1939

Every fortnight he came down to town to buy for his shop. I was the clerk in the warehouse office, charged with keeping the books right and putting a smile on my face when anyone came in. And then he came in, but this time with words that had hitherto been stuck at the back of his throat. He dealt them carefully. I’ve been coming in here for some time now. Yes, I know. You’re not wed are you? I shook my head. I was wondering if you’d care to come out for a drink with me? If I’d care to? He wasn’t much to look at. But he didn’t look like he would hurt. Me, at least. And so I said yes, and found myself in the snug of the Brown Fox with him and his words. Craftily dealt, asking me all about myself, interested only – at this stage – in steering me towards subjects which he no doubt imagined would make him appear to be a fascinating chap. It made him a listener and me a talker, but it did not make for fascination. At some point I told him. I live with my mother, I said. In 1926 she fled to the bosom of Christ. She’d lost her husband, then she lost her job in the General Strike. Luckily, God took her up. What I mean is, God took her up to do good works for Him. On this earth. She hasn’t done much since, except God’s work. He nodded and threw me a smile. This man who in all likelihood had seldom seen the inside of a church. Perhaps this was what I liked about him. The fact that I could see his ignorance. Read him like a book. Another drink? Why not? If he’s buying. I thought of my mother. She’ll be pretending she’s missing me now. I know her. She’ll be looking at the clock and shaking her head. Wanting to know what I think I’m playing at stopping out past eight o’clock. Mother, I’m twenty-one years old. She’d perfected a look of such contempt. I got it that night, and for weeks afterwards, whenever I came back from the pub. But she never asked any questions. It was as if she didn’t want to ask in case that meant that she cared. That much I understood about her. That she did care, but she didn’t want me to know this. She was angry with me. Always angry. He started coming down twice a week. One night, in the Brown Fox, I said yes. But I let him know that I’d rather do it in an office than in a church. I told him that I thought we were both wrong for a church. All that ceremony. What do you think? He agreed, and so I finished my half-pint and made ready to leave. I noticed that these days he didn’t spend much time asking me about myself. It was always him now. He told me there were not many lasses up in his village. And being thirty now he’d have to hurry up. He laughed too loudly. As he waited with me by the bus stop, we tried the first experiment of a kiss. I should have known then.