The Ballad of Peckham Rye

went to answer it.

‘Name of Frierne?’ said a man’s voice.

‘Yes, what do you want?’

‘Could I have a private word with you?’

Miss Frierne returned to the kitchen followed by a policeman.

‘A man aged about seventy-nine was run over by a bus this morning on the Walworth Road. Sorry, madam, but he had the name Frierne in his pocket written on a bit of paper. He died an hour ago. Any relation you know of, madam?’

‘No, I don’t know of him. Must be a mistake. You can ask my neighbours if you like. I’m the only one left in the world.’

‘Very good,’ said the policeman, making notes.

‘Did he have any other papers on him?’

‘No, nothing. A pauper, poor devil.’

The policeman left.

‘Well, there wasn’t anything I could do if he’s dead, was there?’ Miss Frierne said to Dougal. She started crying. ‘Except pay for the funeral. And it’s hard enough keeping going and that.’

Dougal fetched out the gin again and poured two glasses. Presently he placed a kitchen chair to face the chair on which he sat. He put up his feet on it and said, ‘Ever seen a corpse?’ He lolled his head back, closed his eyes and opened his mouth so that the bottom jaw was sunken and rigid.

‘You’re callous, that’s what you are,’ Miss Frierne said. Then she screamed with hysterical mirth.

Humphrey sat with Mavis and Arthur Crewe in their sitting-room, touching, every now and then, two marks on his face.

‘Well, if by any chance you don’t have her, it’s your luck,’ Mavis said. ‘I say it though she’s my own daughter. When I was turned seventeen, eighteen, I was out with the boys every night, dancing and so forth. You wouldn’t have caught me doing no evening work just for a bit of money. And there aren’t so many boys willing to sit round waiting like you. She’ll learn when it’s too late.’

‘It isn’t as if she parts with any of her money,’ Arthur Crewe said. ‘You don’t get the smell of an oil-rag out of Dixie. The more she’s got the meaner she gets.’

‘What’s that got to do with it?’ Dixie’s mother said. ‘You don’t want anything from her, do you?’

‘I never said I did. I was only saying -‘

‘Dixie has her generous side,’ Mavis said. ‘You must hand it to her, she’s good to Leslie. She’s always slipping him five bob here and five bob there.’

‘Pity she does it,’ Arthur said. ‘The boy’s ruined. He’s money mad.’

‘What you know about kids? There’s nothing wrong with Leslie. He’s no different from the rest. They all like money in their pockets.’

‘Where’s Leslie now, anyway?’

‘Gone out.’

‘Where?’

‘How do I know? You ask him.’

‘He’s with Trevor Lomas,’ Humphrey said. ‘Up at Costa’s.’

‘There you are, Arthur. There’s no harm in Trevor Lomas.’

‘He’s a bit old company for Leslie.’

‘Grumble, grumble, grumble,’ Mavis said, and switched on the television.

Leslie came in at eleven. He looked round the sitting-room.

‘Hallo, Les,’ Humphrey said.

Leslie did not speak. He went upstairs.

At half-past eleven Dixie came home. She kicked off her shoes in the sitting-room and flopped on to the sofa. ‘You been here long?’ she said to Humphrey.

‘An hour or two.’

‘Nice to be able to sit down of a summer evening,’ Dixie said.

‘Yes, why don’t you try it?’

‘Trevor Lomas says there’s plenty of overtime at Freeze-eezy if anyone wants it.’

‘Well, I don’t want it,’ Humphrey said.

‘Obvious.’

‘Who wants to do overtime all their lives?’ Mavis said.

‘I was just remarking,’ Dixie said, ‘what Trevor Lomas told me.’

‘Overtime should be avoided except in cases of necessity,’ Humphrey said, ‘because eventually it reduces the normal capacity of the worker and in the long run leads to under-production, resulting in further demands for overtime. A vicious circle. Where did you see Trevor Lomas?’

‘It is a case of necessity,’ Dixie said, ‘because we need all the money we can get.’

‘That’s how she goes on,’ Mavis said. ‘Why she can’t be content to settle down with a man’s good wages like other people I don’t know. With a bungalow earmarked for October -‘.

‘I want it to be a model bungalow,’ Dixie said.

‘You’ll have your model bungalow,’ Humphrey said.

‘She wants a big splash wedding,’ Mavis said. ‘Well. Arthur and I will do what we can but only what we can.

‘That’s right.’ Arthur said.

‘Dixie’s entitled to the best,’ Mavis said. ‘She’s got a model dress in view.’

‘Where did you see Trevor Lomas?’ Humphrey said to Dixie.

‘Up at Costa’s. I went in for a Coke on the way home. Any objections?’.

‘No, dear, no,’ Humphrey said.

‘Nice of you. Well, I’m going to bed, I’m tired out. You still got your scars.’

‘They’ll go away in time.’

‘I don’t mind. Trevor’s got a scar.’

‘I better keep my eye on Trevor Lomas,’ Humphrey said.

‘You better keep your eye on your friend Dougal Douglas. Trevor says he’s a dick.’

‘I don’t believe it,’ Mavis said.

‘Nor do I,’ said Arthur.

‘No more do I,’ said Humphrey.

‘I know you think he’s perfect,’ Dixie said. ‘He can do no wrong. But I’m just telling you what Trevor said. So don’t say I didn’t tell you.’

‘Trevor’s having you on,’ Humphrey said. ‘He doesn’t like Dougal.’

‘I like him,’ Arthur said.

‘I like him,’ Mavis said. ‘Our Leslie don’t like him. Dixie don’t like him.’

‘I like him,’ Humphrey said. ‘My sister Elsie doesn’t like him.’

‘Is Mr Douglas at home?’

‘Well, he’s up in his room playing the typewriter at the moment,’ said Miss Frierne, ‘as you can hear.’

‘Can I go up?’

‘No, I must inquire. Come inside, please. What name?’

‘Miss Coverdale.’

Miss Frierne left Miss Coverdale in that hall which was lined with wood like a coffin. The sound of the typewriter stopped. Dougal’s voice called down from the second landing, ‘Come up.’ Miss Frierne frowned in the direction of his voice. ‘Top floor,’ she said to Merle.

‘I’m miserable. I had to see you,’ Merle said to Dougal. ‘What a nice little room you’ve got here!’

‘Why are you not at work?’ Dougal said.

‘I’m too upset to work. Mr Druce is talking of leaving the country for good. What should I do?’

‘What do you want to do?’ Dougal said.

‘I want to go with him but he won’t take me.’