'Hell! You must be in a worse rut than I am. Imagine cutting the lawn when the wife's away! Seriously, Holland, you have a duty to yourself. What the eye doesn't see, the heart doesn't grieve about. It may be your last chance before you get old and useless.'
'Oh dry up!' Ken exclaimed, exasperated. 'The trouble with you is that you've never grown up.'
'Thank the Lord I haven't.' Parker said. 'When my idea of fun is cutting the goddam lawn, I'll know it's time I was buried.'
Ken left him, still talking, and climbed the steps that led to the staff exit.
Parker's continual suggestions irritated him, and he was frowning as he walked along the hot sidewalk to the restaurant where he always took his meals.
He was thinking: of course he's right. I am in a rut. I've been in a rut ever since I married. I don't suppose I'll get another chance to kick the can around. Ann won't leave me again: anyway, not for years. But do I want to kick the can around? If only I knew when Ann was coming back. This might go on for weeks.
It may be your last chance before you get old and useless, Parker had said. That was true. Ann would never know. Why not have a night out tonight? Why not?
He suddenly felt excited and reckless. He would do it! It would probably turn out to be a flop, but anything was better than returning to the empty bungalow.
He would go to the Cigale and have a couple of drinks. Maybe some blonde would be willing to share his company without making any complications.
That's it, he said to himself, as he walked on towards the restaurant; a final night out; a swan song.
II
The afternoon dragged for Ken. For the first time since he could remember, his work bored him and he caught himself continually looking at the wall clock.
The stale, baked air coming in from the street, the roar of the traffic and the hot, sweating faces of his customers irritated him.
'A perfect evening to cut a lawn,' Parker said with a grin as the messenger closed the doors of the bank. 'You'll sweat like a horse.'
Ken didn't say anything. He began to check his cash.
'You want to get organized, Holland,' Parker went on. 'There are plenty of able-bodied men who'll cut your lawn while you go out and enjoy yourself.'
'Skip it, will you?' Ken said shortly. 'You're not even being funny.'
Parker eyed him thoughtfully, sighed and shook his head.
'You poor guy! You don't know what you're missing.'
They worked in silence until both had checked their cash, then Parker said, 'If you've brought your car, you can drive me home.'
Parker lived in a road next to Ken's; and although Ken didn't want any more of his company, he couldn't refuse.
'Okay,' he said, gathering up his cash-box and books. 'Make it snappy. I've had about enough of this place for today.'
As they drove through the heavy traffic, Parker glanced at the evening papers and gave out the more interesting items of news.
Ken scarcely listened.
Away from the bank now, and heading for home, his natural caution reasserted itself.
He would cut the lawn, he told himself, and he would spend the rest of the evening at home. He must have been nuts even to contemplate having a night out. If he slipped up, was seen or got himself into a mess, he might not only ruin his marriage, but he might end his career.
'Don't bother to take me right home,' Parker said suddenly. 'I want to stretch my legs. Take me to your place and I'll walk the rest of the way.'
'I don't mind taking you home.'
'I'll walk. Maybe you'll offer me a drink. I'm right out of whisky.'
Ken was tempted to say he was too. He wanted to be rid of Parker, but he checked the impulse and, now he was clear of the heavy traffic, he accelerated and in a few minutes pulled up outside the neat little bungalow in line with a number of similar bungalows.
'My word! Your lawn does need cutting,' Parker said as they got out of the car. 'That's going to be quite a job.'
'It won't take long,' Ken returned, leading the way up the path. He unlocked the front door and they entered the small hall.
The air was hot and close, and Ken hurried into the lounge to throw open the windows.
'Phew! Been shut up all day, hasn't it?' Parker said, following him.
'All the afternoon,' Ken returned, taking off his coat and dropping it on to a chair. 'Our help only comes in during the morning.'
He went over and mixed two large highballs. The two men lit cigarettes and raised their glasses.
