and Mr Druce his waistcoat. Merle put the dressing-gown over her shoulders and, concealed by it, took off the rest of her clothes, with modest gestures. Mr Druce slid his braces and emerged from his trousers. These he folded carefully and, padding across the room to the window, laid them on a chair. He made another trip bearing his waistcoat and jacket which he placed over the back of the chair.
They stayed in bed for an hour, in the course of which Merle twice screamed because Mr Druce had once pinched and once bit her. ‘I’m covered with marks as it is,’ she said.
Mr Druce rose first and put on his dressing-gown. He went to wash and returned very soon, putting a wet irritable hand round the bedroom door. Merle said, ‘Oh, isn’t there a towel?’ and taking a towel from a drawer, placed it in his hand.
When he returned she was dressed.
She went into the scullery and put on the kettle while he put on his trousers and went home to his wife.
A western breeze blew over the Rye and it was midsummer night, a Saturday. Humphrey carried the two tartan rugs from his car while Dixie walked by his side, looking to left and right and sometimes turning to see if the path was dear of policemen.
Dixie said, ‘I’m cold.’
He said, ‘It’s a warm night.’
She said, ‘I’m cold.’
He said, ‘We’ve got two rugs.’
She walked on beside him until they came to their usual spot under a tree behind the hedge of the Old English garden.
Humphrey spread a rug and she sat down upon it. She lifted the fringe and started to pull at it, separating the matted threads.
He spread the other rug over her legs and lay leaning on his elbow beside her.
‘My mum got suspicious the other night,’ she said. ‘Leslie told her I was stopping over Camberwell after the dance with Connie Weedin, but she got suspicious. And when I got in she asked me all sorts of questions about the dance. I had to make them up.’
‘Sure you can trust Leslie?’
‘Well, I give him five shillings a week. I think it should be three shillings weeks when I don’t stop out all night. But he’s greedy, Leslie is.’
Humphrey pulled her towards him, and started to unbutton her coat. She buttoned it up again. ‘I’m cold,’ she said.
‘Oh, come on, Dixie,’ he said.
‘Connie Weedin got an increment,’ she said. ‘I’ve got to wait for my increment till August. I only found out through the girl that does the copy die-stamp operation and had the staff salaries’ balance sheet to do. Connie Weedin does the same job as what I do and she’s only been there six months longer. It’s only because her father’s Personnel. I’m going to take it up with Miss Coverdale.’
Humphrey pulled her down towards him again and kissed her face.
‘What’s the matter?’ he said. ‘There’s something the matter with you.’
‘I’m going to take Monday off,’ she said. ‘They appreciate you more if you stop away now and again.’
‘Well, frankly and personally,’ Humphrey said, ‘I think it’s an immoral thing to do.’
‘Fifteen shillings rise, less tax, nine and six in Connie Weedin’s packet,’ she said, ‘and I’ve got to wait to August. And they’re all in it together. And if I don’t get satisfaction from Miss Coverdale, who is there to go to? Only Personnel, and that’s
‘When we’re married you won’t have to worry about any of them. We can get married Saturday week if you like.’
‘No, I don’t like. What about the house? There’s got to be money down for the house.’
‘There’s money down for the house,’ he said.
‘What about my spin-dryer?’
‘Oh, to hell with your spin-dryer.’
‘That fifteen shillings less tax that’s due to me,’ she said ‘could have gone in the bank. If it’s due to her it’s due to me. Fair’s fair.’
He pulled the top rug up to her chin and under it started to unbutton her coat.
She sat up.
‘There’s something wrong with you,’ he said. ‘We should have gone dancing instead. It wouldn’t have cost much.’
‘You’re getting too sexy,’ she said. ‘It’s through you having to do with Dougal Douglas. He’s a sex maniac. I was told. He’s immoral.’
‘He isn’t,’ Humphrey said.
‘Yes he is, he talks about sex quite open, any time of the day. Girls and sex.’
‘Why don’t you relax like you used to do?’ he said. ‘Not unless you give up that man. He’s putting ideas in your head.’
‘You’ve done plenty yourself to put ideas in my head,’ he said. ‘I didn’t used to need to look far to get ideas, when you were around. Especially up in the cupboard.’
‘Repeat that, Humphrey.’
‘Lie down and relax.’
‘Not after what you said. It was an insult.’
‘I know what’s the matter with you,’ he said. ‘You’re losing all your sex. It’s all this saving up to get married and looking to the lolly all the time, it takes the sex out of a girl. It stands to reason, it’s only psychological.’
‘You must have been talking it over with Dougal Douglas,’ she said. ‘You wouldn’t have thought of that by yourself.’
She stood up and brushed down her coat. He folded up the rugs.
‘I won’t be talked about, it’s a let-down,’ she said.
‘Who’s talked about you?’ he said.
‘Well, if you haven’t talked about me, you’ve been listening to
‘Let me tell you something,’ he said. ‘Dougal Douglas is an educated man.’
‘My mum’s uncle’s a teacher and he doesn’t act like him. He doesn’t cry his eyes out like Dougal did in our canteen.’ Dixie laughed. ‘He’s a pansy.’
‘That’s just his game. You don’t know Dougal. I bet he wasn’t crying really.’
‘Yes, he was. He only just lost his girl, and he cried like anything. Makes you laugh.’
‘Then he can’t be a pansy, or he wouldn’t cry over a girl.’
‘He must be or he wouldn’t cry at all.’
On midsummer night Trevor Lomas walked with a somnambulistic sway into Findlater’s Ballroom and looked round for Beauty. The floor was expertly laid and polished. The walls were pale rose, with concealed lighting. Beauty stood on the girls’ side, talking to a group of very similar and lustrous girls. They had prepared themselves for this occasion with diligence, and as they spoke together, they did not smile much nor attend to each other’s words. As an accepted thing, any of the girls might break off in the middle of a sentence, should a young man approach her, and, turning to him, might give him her entire and smiling regard.
Most of the men looked as if they had not properly woken from deep sleep, but glided as if drugged, and with half-dosed lids, towards their chosen partner. This approach found favour with the girls. The actual invitation to dance was mostly delivered by gesture; a scarcely noticeable flick of the man’s head towards the dance floor. Whereupon the girl, with an outstretched movement of surrender, would swim into the hands of the summoning partner.
Trevor Lomas so far departed from the norm as to indicate to Beauty his wish by word of mouth, which he did not, however, open more than a sixteenth of an inch.
‘Come and wriggle, Snake,’ he said through this aperture.
Findlater’s rooms were not given to rowdy rock but concentrated instead upon a more cultivated jive, chacha, and variants. Beauty wriggled with excellence, and was particularly good at shrugging her shoulders and lifting
