About what?
Looking straight ahead, her hands lying down the folds of her stiff skirt, she descended the stairs with a consciously demure rectitude, and said: If Id known you were a foreigner, it would have saved me so much time, wouldnt it? One must have thought for other people, these times.
What kind of a foreigner do you think I am?
Ive known people before, calling it sunburn.
In the hail the old lady was lurking in a doorway, leaning forward in her wheeled chair from a mist of pastel shawls. Her small beady eyes, like a birds, were fixed on me. Her face was twisted into a preparatory smile of stiff welcome, but a glance at the nurse caused her to give me a slight toss of the head instead. Leaning back, she daintily took a grape from a dish beside her, and held it to her mouth in a tiny bony hand, her eyes still regarding me sideways, so that she looked even more like a watchful parrot.
On the steps was the young man, alone. How do you think I can leave when you wont let us take our property? he asked the nurse.
Im not having you set foot in this house.
Ive paid the rent, so if you take my wifes things
Your wife!
Immediately his attitude changed to one of confident challenge. Ill show you my marriage certificate, if thats your attitude. His hand was already in his pocket, but she had slammed the door. There was a clinking noise, and the letterbox slit showed dark with a face hovering white behind it.
You deserve to be in prison, said the shrill voice through the slit.
If you dont give me my things Im going straight to a lawyer.
You tell that woman of yours to come here this afternoon and Ill have them bundled up for her in the hall. The metal flap dropped with a clatter.
I say! shouted the young man in an injured way. Do you know thats a legal offence? With one shoulder thrust forward, his chin stuck angrily out, he looked as if he were about to fling himself on the door.
Nothing happened. Slowly the young man straightened, letting his shoulders loosen. For a moment he stood gazing with sullen reflectiveness at the door; then he turned and his eyes came blankly to rest on me. The glowering anger left in him from the encounter with the nurse simmered in him, unreleased; but soon he smiled a statesmans smile, bathing me in winning frankness. Its only right for me to warn you, he said, I shouldnt want any friend of mine to live in that house. He swung his head to glare at it before going on. Dont take it. Im warning you.
I havent taken it, I said.
Disbelief congealed the smile. Not fit for pigs, he said. Better change your mind now, before its too late. Better late than never. This aphorism pleased him so much that he repeated it, and his smile was momentarily gratified. He leaned towards me, his eyes were anxiously penetrating. If I had said I had taken the rooms, he would now be as anxiously testing me for the lie. Go in and cancel the contract now, better that way. The word contract in his mouth was loaded with suspicion. But I havent taken it. He stared at me closely. Mind, its not too bad at first sight. You see the snags when youre in. You cant call your life your own. I smiled. He grew uneasy. A genuine impatience must have shown itself in my face, for at once his body arranged itself into a new attitude, and he leaned forward with a gentle and disarming persuasiveness. If youre looking for a place to live, Im your man.
Do you know of somewhere?
Its my business. Im an estate agent.
Then youre lucky. You wont have difficulty in finding somewhere yourself, will you?
At this he inspected me for some lime, in silence, and with hostility. Thus it was that right at the beginning, the quality which he most valued in his victims my naivety confused him. He could not believe that I was as green as I seemed. Looking back. I cant believe it either.
Looking back it is clear that he believed I was putting on innocence to lead him on, to some dark goal, for reasons of my own. Yet there were moments when I was as gullible as a fish. I confused him. And he confused me. I disliked him at sight, but I saw no reason not to trust him. I had never met a con-man in my life.
Ill have no trouble, he remarked at last. Ive nothing to worry about. And they cant turn me into the street, just like that not Andrew MacNamara.
Envying him, I walked away down the steps, and found him striding beside me, giving me calculating glances from his large treacly brown eyes. He was still tortured by uncertainty as to whether I was lying. And what was important to him was not the fact, but whether he was being made a fool of, If you dont believe me, I can tell you things about that crowd in there that would put them into prison. Its no place for decent people.
Do you know of somewhere?
Its my business. Im an estate agent.
Then youre lucky. You wont have difficulty in finding somewhere yourself, will you?
At this he inspected me for some lime, in silence, and with hostility. Thus it was that right at the beginning, the quality which he most valued in his victims my naivety confused him. He could not believe that I was as green as I seemed. Looking back. I cant believe it either.
Looking back it is clear that he believed I was putting on innocence to lead him on, to some dark goal, for reasons of my own. Yet there were moments when I was as gullible as a fish. I confused him. And he confused me. I disliked him at sight, but I saw no reason not to trust him. I had never met a con-man in my life.
Ill have no trouble, he remarked at last. Ive nothing to worry about. And they cant turn me into the street, just like that not Andrew MacNamara.
Envying him, I walked away down the steps, and found him striding beside me, giving me calculating glances from his large treacly brown eyes. He was still tortured by uncertainty as to whether I was lying. And what was important to him was not the fact, but whether he was being made a fool of, If you dont believe me, I can tell you things about that crowd in there that would put them into prison. Its no place for decent people.
Then its lucky I havent taken it.
He changed ground. If you dont have to count the pennies, theres flats for the asking. A pause. I could fix you up tomorrow, today.
But I have to count the pennies.
Thats always a good line, to start with, he probed.
Besides, I said, Ive got a small child.
Thats bad, he said. It wont make things any easier. But you can buy anything.
We had reached a main street. Half a dozen large red buses lumbered past, concentrating all the colour and light there was in their cheerful and exuberant bodies. Taxi? he suggested. Theres a friend of mine in the rank over there. He raised his arm to wave.
No, a bus.
He frowned. A penny saved is a penny gained, he said.
Can you tell me the way to
Its just around the corner.
My head was, as usual in those early days in London, in a maze. To my right and left stretched that street which seemed exactly like all the main streets in London, the same names recurring at regular intervals, the same patterns of brick and plaster. It seemed to me impossible that the people walking past the decent little shops that were so alike, and the cold stone slabs decorated with pale gleaming fishes and vivid parsley, like giant plates of salad thrust forward into the street, could ever know one part of London from another.
Im going that way myself, he said. He took my elbow in the urgency of unconcluded business. I got on to a bus and he leaped on to it beside me as it moved off, Before you go, take the name of my agency. I said Id fix you up, he reproved me.
Where is it?
Ive five rooms and a staff of nine, he said casually. Its over in Holborn. But for special customers Ive a little office of my own. For private talking.
Give me the address and Ill come when Ive got time.
Never let the chance slip, he said reproachfully, giving me a lesson in living. It might get snapped up before you get there. Thats not the way to do business.
But Im not doing business, I said, throwing him off balance again. He was also annoyed. You want a flat, dont you? You said so, didnt you? Automatically, he looked around for witnesses. I heard you say so. You want a flat.
Tickets, said the conductor.
Allow me, said Mr MacNamara, taking out sixpence with such an air that I was surprised to find in myself the beginnings of gratitude commensurate with his having produced tickets for the front row of the stalls.
Its a pleasure, he smiled, pocketing the tickets carefully. Business. You decide what you want. You find what you want. You get what you want. You pay for what you want. Or you pay someone else to get it for you. We were sitting side by side on the long seats at the entrance of the bus. Four working women, in respectable hats, carrying crowded shopping bags, were sitting with us. Pay, remarked one of them humorously, as if to the air. Thats the co-operative word. Mr MacNamara flushed angrily. He struggled to ignore this woman. But vanity won. In a voice of furious hostility he said: What you want you have to pay for. The thing is, who wants to pay too much?
Not me, thats for sure, she said. She glanced around at the other women, and winked. She did not look at Mr MacNamara. The conductor, who was leaning negligently against the steps, smiled tolerantly, and said: Whos for the Church?
Thats me, said the woman, upheaving herself from beside me. Potatoes rolled from her bag into my lap, and she grabbed at them as they scattered. Here, she shouted upwards, crouched among feet, potatoes at sixpence a pound. Mind your great boots.
Now, love, said the conductor indulgently, get a move on or Ill take them home to my missus.
Try it, she retorted, and lurched off the bus, thrusting potatoes into her bag and her pockets. From the pavement she remarked in a detached voice: Still, sixpence a pound is what you pay for new potatoes, when its right, and not like what some people I know try to get. Where this barb was directed could not easily be decided, for she was gazing absently at the back of the bus. One of the three women who remained took it up, saying: Thats right dear, some people have no consciences. This exchange hung in the air as far as I was concerned, in spite of the gently-grinning faces all around me. I heard Mr MacNamara complain: I say! The woman on the pavement, who must have been waiting for him to react, beamed directly at the conductor, and, indicating her bruised potatoes, said: I wont have to mash them now, will I?