Would you like to live in the country?
Me? Are you mad? Im from London, as I told you. Thats what I mean when I say Im not English. Not really. When I talk of English, what I mean is, my grandad and my grandma. Thats English. The country. They were quite different from us I mean my mother and me. I liked visiting with them, but they didnt really understand, not really, not what living was like. They were shut off, see? But I like to think of them when I get the ump. It cheers me up. And it cheered my mother up, too. When her man got her down, shed go off to see her mother. And my stepfather got cross every time.
Would you like to live in the country?
Me? Are you mad? Im from London, as I told you. Thats what I mean when I say Im not English. Not really. When I talk of English, what I mean is, my grandad and my grandma. Thats English. The country. They were quite different from us I mean my mother and me. I liked visiting with them, but they didnt really understand, not really, not what living was like. They were shut off, see? But I like to think of them when I get the ump. It cheers me up. And it cheered my mother up, too. When her man got her down, shed go off to see her mother. And my stepfather got cross every time.
Rose, hes dead. Donl go on about him all the time.
I see what you mean. But I cant help it. I had him around all the time I was growing up. I think of him often and often. Sometimes I think Dickies his living incarnation, as you might say.
Then thats not much good, is it?
But I love him. Not that I loved that old so-and-so. You know what? He used to wait for me when Id gone out with a boy, and if I was after ten oclock hed take the broom handle to me. Hed lay about me until my mother came at him. She stood up for me. She stood up for us all. I must say that for her, though he was mostly good to the boys. They didnt get under his skin. Not that it makes sense, because they all upped and left home and theyre scattered all over now, one Liverpool, one Glasgow, and one away oft in Reading and we never see them. But I stayed, beatings and all. It was me he had it in for, all the time. But my mother was used to so-and-sos. She go so-and-sos every time. My own father was as bad. He was good to me, mind you, he used to take me driving with his fancy women, and all that, and then he used to beat my mother. Guilty conscience, as you might say. And then she went and married my stepfather a real home from home, he was. And now hes dead, and theres an old stick hanging about, sugar and spice and presents, but, mark my words, if she marries him hell have his fists about her like the rest. Shes got no eye for a man. Ive told her she cant marry him, she wont have my blessing if she does. But she will, and then Rose-the-mug will be down there, pouring oil and taking the consequences.
But if Dickies the same, why go on waiting for him?
Ive thought of that, believe you me. Ive tried to like the others. But its no good. And you upset me, saying that, because I dont like thinking why. I give myself the ump. I do really.
Her mood, for a few weeks, was so dark she dragged herself around work, the house, her shopping, and scarcely heard if I spoke to her. She made an impatient gesture, like someone listening to music, and said: Dont talk to me, dear, just let me sit.
One evening I was reading, while Rose smoked and worried opposite me. Rosemary began to cry. Rose instantly lifted her head to listen, although she had not heard the last remark I made.
Leave her alone, said Ronnie Skeffington. Shell go to sleep again.
Ive got to stop her. Mrs Boltll be complaining. Her feet dragged across the floor. Oh, Rosemary, Rosemary, she said, as the child wailed.
Come to bed and leave her alone, shell be all right, said Ronnie Skeffington, in an efficient voice. Let her cry.
But where are we going to live, if they turn us out?
Oh, well find somewhere.
We will? Thats good. Who wore their feet out for months trying to find a place that would take a kid?
Dont start that now.
Rosemary cried herself to sleep again, and Mrs Skeffington crept back to bed.
Oh no, leave me alone, Im so tired.
Come on, dont make a fuss.
But. Ronnie, Im so tired.
Oh, come on.
No, I wont.
Oh, so you wont! He laughed, and she cried miserably while the bed creaked. Rose said: Listen to that! Just listen to it. At last, silence; and Rose said: Thank God for that, perhaps well have some peace. But she sat listening tensely.
A few minutes later Rosemary began crying again. We sat still while the thing repeated itself. But when Mrs Skeffington got back into bed she cried out in hysteria: No, I wont, Ronnie. Dont make me.
Oh, come on, what fun is there in life?
Fun for who? Then she screamed out: Youve bitten me. Rosemary and her mother wailed together.
Rose got up, her lips narrowed into a vindictive line.
Where are you going?
Youll see.
Leave them alone.
They dont leave us alone, do they?
Rose went up and hammered on the door, Let me in, she shouted.
Whos that?
Let me in. The door opened. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, said Rose. Have you got to bite your wife just because she wont sleep with you fifty times a night? You dirty beast. And what about Rosemary? Whats it like for her hearing all this nonsense. Give her to me.
Well keep her quiet, we will really.
Give her to me, said Rose again.
Rosemary began sobbing, as a child does when it finds a refuge.
Now you go to bed, said Rose. You leave your wife alone. Anyway, why do you have to make love tonight? Friday and Saturdays for making love. Everyone has to work tomorrow, and you just go on and on.
Husband and wife crept into their bed. Rose took the child into the other room and covered her up on the sofa. She was upstairs a long time. When she came down her eyes were red.
Yes, she said. lf I had a kid Id know what to do. But who gets them? Dirty beasts like them Skeffingtons.
Youre hard on them.
Now dont you start on your talk. Just dont talk. I dont want to think about nothing at all. Because when I start thinking I begin to think about what might happen. Suppose I dont marry Dickie, what then?
Youll marry someone else.
Yes? Theyre all the same, when you get down to it.
Things are different from they used to be. You dont have to get married.
They might be different for you, but theyre not for me.
This was how she always put an end to our discussions about socialism. Youre different, she had concluded, listening to me exhort about the system. Youre middle-class you dont mind me saying it, Ive got nothing against you personally, see? So if you want to talk about socialism, youre welcome.
Rose, socialism is for the working people, not for us.
Yes?
Yes. You wont get it until you fight for it.
Yes? Im not going to waste my time getting excited. Things will last out my time. In the newspapers theyre always talking about a new this and new that. Well, theres one thing I know, my mother worked all her life, and Im no better off than she was.
Yes, you are. You wont starve, for one thing.
Starve? Whos talking about starving? She never starved either. Theres always someone to help you out if youre in trouble. You would, if I was in trouble. But I know her life and I know mine. And I know the difference, not much.
Its your fault, because you wont fight.
Yes? Well you talk, if you enjoy it, Ill think my own thoughts.
Were supposed to have a new society.
Were supposed to have a new society.
Yes?
Do you get angry because there are still rich and powerful people when all that is supposed to be finished?
Who said it was?
A lot of people.
Well, if you want to believe all them lies, whos stopping you?
I didnt say I believed it.
Then youre talking sense for once.
All the same. The reason they are saying it is they want to put something over on you.
Yes? Well, theyre not. As for them with their parties and their good times and their money here and their money here, I say, good luck to them. Theyve either got brains, which I havent, or theyve done something dirty to get it. Well. I dont envy their consciences. Would you like to be Bobby Brent or Dan or Flo?
Much rather, than being virtuous and poor.
Then youre not my friend. Excuse me for saying so. I dont like you talking like that. Then why dont you put money into their dirty deals?
Because I havent any.
Dont give me that talk. I dont believe it, for one. And for another, I dont like to hear it. And Ill tell you something else. Sometimes Im sorry youre my friend, because you make me think about things.
Good. Thats what friends are for.
Yes? But not if it makes you unhappy. Ive told you before, theres one thing wrong with you. You think its enough to say things are wrong to change them. Well, it isnt. Ill tell you something else. My stepfather was Labour. Well, it stands to reason, he had unemployment and all that. And whos Labour Party in this house? The Skeffingtons upstairs.
Good for them, I said.
Yes? That pair of no-goods? They have everything bad, and so they vote Labour. Suddenly she giggled. It made me laugh. When we had that election. Flo and Dan, they had Tory posters all over. Well, that makes sense, theyre doing all right. And the Skeffingtons stuck a Labour in their window. Flo went up and tore it down. So the Skeffingtons made a fuss about their rights. They make me laugh. Lucky they pay the rent regular. He said to Flo: All right, then well leave. And she said: All right, then leave. Then she thought about the rent, and her heart broke. So for weeks, you can imagine how it was, all the house plastered up and down with Vote for Churchill, and just one window, Vote for Labour.
And you?
Me?
You have the vote.
Dont make me laugh, I know whats what. I just watch them at it and laugh to myself.
Well, you make me angry.
Yes I know I do, and I dont care.
For one thing, you make me cross because you hang about waiting for Churchill to speak. What has he ever done for you?
Whoever said he had?
Rose would listen to Churchill talk with a look of devotion I entirely misunderstood. She would emerge at the end of half an hours fiery peroration with a dreamy and reminiscent smile, and say: He makes me laugh. Hes just a jealous fat man, I dont take any notice of him. Just like a girl he is, saying to a friend: No dear, you dont look nice in that dress, and the next thing is, hes wearing it himself.