was a very happy time as far as I was concerned, except that shameful thoughts of Signal Street would keep coming back.
'I haven't yet managed to get any cocoa in' she said after a while. 'Don't concern yourself on that score' I said.
'I could make up the cocoa – when I get it – the night before and leave it in the range for you to pick up in the morning. It would still be hot – well, it would be quite hot.' She looked at the electric light over my head for a while before adding: 'I daresay it would not be absolutely cold, at any rate.' 'No need for that,' I said.
'I would do that' she said, 'and I would be happy to do it, only I've been a little rushed.' I nodded. 'Would you like to hear the whole tale?' I said. 'It comes in six parts.' 'Of course' she said. 'Number one -'
'But not now, perhaps,' she said. 'You need to rest.' She made sure nobody was looking and gave me a kiss. Then she stood up. 'The room is now advertised in several papers,' she said.
After a long pause, as I recalled how I had attempted to escape from the casket, I said, 'I'm sorry for not having put up your notice at Nine Elms.'
The fact was, I hadn't wanted another in the lodge with the two of us. She said that it was all right.
After a further pause, I said, 'I'll be out tomorrow, and I wondered whether you would like to come on another excursion.' 'With Mary Allington?' she said. 'Of course,' I said, and she turned away and suddenly laughed – a very short laugh but very beautiful. She left shortly after. The greatest astonishment came at six on my last day, just after I'd started on a plate of mutton and my bottle of beer. It was Arthur Hunt, still black from a day at Nine Elms, carrying a package roughly done up with string. Somehow things were the wrong way about between us, for he was very ill at ease in the hospital, as a man so full of strength and vigour could hardly fail to be. I asked him to sit down but he would not for fear of dirtying a chair, and nor would he take a bottle of beer, which I could have got for him easily. There was then a great collision of apologies, in which Arthur said he'd seen I was a decent sort, not sent in to sneak, on the ride out to Brookwood.
I said, 'I'd never have guessed that was what you were thinking.'
'In truth,' he said, 'I only thought it later, but the thoughts came from what I saw that day.' 'Why were you all going to twist me in the Old Shed, then?' 'Twist you? We were coming to improve you.' 'But you all looked fit to be tied.'
Arthur shrugged, saying, 'We might have taken a couple of pints. And Vincent clatters the engines as he goes – it's just a habit of his.' He looked at me solemnly for quite a while. Then he said, 'An engine man doesn't need as much imagination as you've got.'
'I'll try to put that straight,' I said, thinking: but how can a thing like that be changed?
'Buck up,' said Arthur. 'I've brought you a copy of the Bible.'
This was a turn up; I hadn't had Arthur down for anything in that line. But when I pulled away the wrapping from the package I saw a book called Engine Driving Life by M. Reynolds. 'You might look at the first page,' said Arthur. There he had written, in a fine hand, but with some smudging: The steam is up; the engine bright as gold; The fire king echoes back the guard's shrill cry, The roaring vapour shrieks out fierce and bold, A moment – and like lightning on we fly.' 'I've had the whole story from the coppers,' he said – and I was glad he spoke at that point, for I could not have. 'I never took to that fellow Stanley and if I see him about I'll knock him into the middle of next week.' 'You know of him then?' 'I've seen him at the Necropolis station; I know him to be another parasite in a collar and tie.' I nodded.
'It couldn't have happened if he'd been in a trade union,' said Arthur. 'But what union could Stanley ever be in?' 'In time there'll be one for every class of worker,' said Arthur.
By now I was ready to have a go at thanking him properly for the book, but again he cut me off in my stumbling attempts: 'You've got it in you to put up some good running,' he said. 'But I can't chuck coal to the front,' I said. 'No,' he said. 'And my fire-raising is not of the best.' 'It is not.' 'I can't read signals when they come in a jumble.' 'I noticed that.' 'And I'm no great hand at injecting.' 'No.' 'It is enough for now that I have a great affection for it all, and a determination to get on?' 'No,' said Arthur.
'So,' I said, 'How can you be sure I'll ever be up to the mark?'
He was buttoning his coat to go. 'Because I'm going to make bloody sure, that's how.'
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Monday 4 January continued
I came out of St Thomas's on the Monday afternoon, and the wind from the river immediately started battering me. I turned a corner into the racing world of cabs and trams and horses, with their drivers in all combinations of moods, and thought: this is my home now. It was all the world of Waterloo. As I set off to Nine Elms, I resolved to take my first route, via the streets. But that would mean that Stanley had won, so I began to make my way by the side of the river, although I was not so brave as to chuck the whistle away.
In the Embankment gardens, a man was sitting completely still on a bench. He was leaning forwards and his high hat was tipped back. His hands were in his pockets, and I imagined that, in his head, he was flying through the air. I stopped and stared, and with the sight of him came a shuddering wonder at all I had been through.
I walked along the valley of the shadow of death, with the distillery and the gasworks on one side, the water on the other. A boat came swinging up, its black chimney bundling beautiful black clouds into the air, pumping out night-time. There was a man at the prow, a friendly looking sort, and this city sailor was making ready the ropes for landing. I nearly called out to him, in a cheery way, 'Cut that smoke out!' for I was happy in spite of my sutures.
Crook's eyebrows jumped at the sight of my stitches when I reached Nine Elms. 'I won't be booking on today, Mr Crook,' I said.
'Not at all, young Jim,' he said, 'not at all. Rest is what you need.' 'I want to walk around,' I said. 'You do that!' exclaimed Mr Crook. 'You take the air.' As I walked out of his place I realised this was by way of being a joke.
On entering the shed I was met with such a hail of hellos and how are you's that I grew dizzy giving my greetings and thanks in return. Barney Rose was there, gabbling cheerily about the faulty fielding of the Australians which had permitted some new victory for England, and suggesting that he was going off, and would I take a pint with him directly. Arthur would be at the Turnstile, and somebody called 'Tiger' would be along too. 'Who's Tiger?' I asked, still in a daze.
'Why, it's Vincent,' said Barney, and there he was, with Arthur alongside of him, and Arthur looked like an uncle and Vincent looked like a nephew as they never had before.
I had to say no to the offer of the drink, as I was still pretty done up and I felt a pint would have knocked me out, but they left me in no doubt that the offer stood for whenever I was ready to accept. As I walked away from the mouth of the shed, I saw Flannagan limping towards me, grinning all round his head, and I thought: he's a good, brave fellow to be able to smile like that with legs like his.
I returned to Lower Marsh still in excellent spirits. All had been put straight at Nine Elms: I was not a spy, Smith was gone, and all the men stood above suspicion on that score as well as all the others. Stanley was the one, and the only thing left to do was find him.
As I approached my lodge I was feeling a want of sleep and a sort of dreaminess that lingered from my injury, so I was not as surprised as I might have been to feel, upon opening that door, a singular sensation of travelling backwards in time, for I could hear my landlady saying, 'Well, it's a pound down.' As I slowly climbed the stairs, I continued to listen: 'Wash day is Saturday, and you are to leave out your laundry on the Friday, if that is quite all right?' There came the voice of a man, which I could not hear clearly. 'There is a good supply of cocoa in the kitchen' my landlady was saying as I reached the top of the staircase, 'or at any rate there will be presently, when I have a chance to arrange it, which is very beneficial on the cold mornings. You will notice that the ceiling is quite free from leaks.'
When I reached the top of the stairs I heard my landlady say, 'We have one other gentleman in the house. He works on the railways, not driving but cleaning the engines, yet he is keen to get on, and of a most amiable nature.' More fast words came from the man, but still I could not make them out. The two were in the unoccupied room, the one that was to be let. 'Might I ask your own occupation?' my landlady said as I moved along the upstairs corridor.
