Crescendo (28 page)

“Well, that's only natural,” agreed Millie, smiling.

She crossed the room and opened the door.

“Goodnight, Mrs. Armley. Goodnight, Ernest.”

“Goodnight.”

Ernest lay back in his chair and closed his eyes.

“How are you feeling, Ernest?” said Millie, hurrying anxiously to his side.

“Well, I can't say but what I feel relieved in a manner of speaking,” said Ernest cautiously.

3

Ernest pushed open the heavy door of the Borough Treasurer's Office. There were a couple of chaps standing by the Driving Licences sign, but one of them moved off as he approached, so he hadn't long to wait. In any case, it didn't really matter if he had to stand a while; not after what the doctor had told him at the surgery this afternoon.

“You've done it now, Mr. Armley,” said the doctor. “You've worried yourself properly sick this time. No more half measures; it's an operation for you as soon as I can get you a bed.”

So a little standing wouldn't make much difference one way or the other, and Ernest had made up his mind to get Kenneth's driving licence and give that sandy-haired young clerk a piece of his mind at the same time. He'd made up his mind what he was going to say.

“You caused me a packet of trouble by leaving your work five minutes early yesterday”—that's what he had planned to tell him.

But unfortunately the sandy-haired clerk was not there this afternoon; a grizzled man, middle-aged, cheerful and competent, was there instead. It was disappointing.

“You aren't the one was here on Monday,” said Ernest when his turn came to take his place at the counter.

“No. He's not here today. His father-in-law's killed himself and his wife's had her baby too soon, so he's in a bit of trouble like.”

“Why, that must be the one Mr. Barraclough was telling me about last night! I hope the baby's all right,” said Ernest, shocked.

“I believe it is, and the mother too, though naturally she's upset about her father,” said the clerk, writing busily.

“Ah,” said Ernest, thinking with compunction of the anger he had felt against the sandy-haired young man, and casting it aside: “We never know the whole story, do we.”

“We don't at that,” agreed the clerk, licking the gummed strip of the licence. “Perhaps it's just as well.”

“Nay,” said Ernest feelingly: “It's better to know.”

THE END

This electronic edition published in 2011 by Bloomsbury Reader
Bloomsbury Reader is a division of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, 50 Bedford Square, London
WC1B 3DP
Copyright © Phyllis Bentley 1958
The moral right of author has been asserted
The lines in italics on page 167 are from Worry About Money by Kathleen Raine
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ISBN: 9781448206476
eISBN: 9781448206117
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