Our Time Is Gone (45 page)

‘I like riding the way the train goes too. Enjoy your lunch, darling?'

‘Of course,'she said. ‘Wasn't the old man funny? He talked to me about the war. Poor old chap. So proud of his son in it. Only child he has. I forgot he was silly after a while, and then I was sorry you hadn't spoken to him instead of sitting there staring at him, as though he were going to eat you.'

‘If you'd been sitting where I was, you'd have hated him, only son or no only son! I've seen people whom one could call “bloody rude,” but I've seen nothing like that. Ah, well! The lunch wasn't bad after all.'

‘I don't think you'll ever understand people. I mean as you should, Des.'

‘Now what makes you think that, Sheila? Sometimes, when you don't notice it, I catch you looking at me, and in such a funny way. I'll tell you something, Sheila! I'm not so dull as you like to think I am. Of course, you may just enjoy thinking about it. But I'm not, and you'll find out one day. So will that brother of yours. Not a bad sort of fellow.'

She leaned against him. ‘What is this the prelude to, Des?' she asked.

She could generally tell when he had something on his mind. These preludes of his were well known. Would he say something nasty? He was quite capable of it. Perhaps he was angry with her for crying on Gelton Station. ‘You don't like me calling you darling. I wish you did, Desmond.' She leaned her head on his shoulder. ‘After all, you
are
a darling,' and she said this aloud as a man passed through the car. But she didn't mind that. Her husband
was
a darling! She was proud of him. ‘What's worrying you?' she asked, her cheek moving up to his. ‘What's worrying you?'

‘I'm not worried,' he said, entirely disinterested in her affectionate outburst.

‘Don't be silly! Would it surprise you to know I've been worried too?'

‘You worried? What about? Just a minute. I want to light my cigarette.'

‘I've been thinking,' she said, waiting for him to extract a cigarette, and then she leaned on him again. ‘I've been thinking a lot since we left Gelton.'

‘Thinking?' he said, and by his surprise seemed to assume that ‘thinking' was a hazardous and dangerous process. ‘What about, Sheila? Tell me.'

‘Your mother,' she replied quietly. ‘I wish you
had
seen her, Desmond. Mind you, it had nothing to do with me. But I can see you're worried, and I can see you are——'

‘Ssh! Here's somebody coming. I wish you didn't talk so loud, Sheila,' he said. When the man had gone out of sight he spoke in a rush of words. ‘Why you should be worried about a matter that concerns only me, I don't know. The fact is, I got drunk and made an exhibition of myself before your brother. Surely that isn't worrying you. As for not seeing my mother, yes, I am a bit ashamed. I promised. Anyhow, as soon as we get to London I'll write her.'

‘You shouldn't have got drunk. You ought to have seen her, since she is so ill. Don't think I'm concerned, but only for you, Des. She
is
your mother.'

‘Oh yes. I know that. Christ! Don't keep on harping at me. It couldn't be helped.'

‘I thought you got a letter from her. At least Alice took it in, I saw it on the hall-stand.'

Why the hell should she be worrying about it? Now she had dragged that out. ‘I didn't have any letter.' Then he blurted out: ‘I got mine back. Wasn't delivered. I don't know where she is. That's why I'm worried. And you don't help much sitting there hours on end admiring the bloody country!'

‘Des——'

‘Well, aren't you?' he said. ‘You've hardly spoken two words to me since we left.'

‘But, darling, when I see you sad about something, I don't come chattering over you like a monkey. I leave you alone. Can't I be sad too? I
am
sad.' she concluded. And she turned away from him to the window.

He pulled her back. ‘Sheila! All this is about nothing. I break my promise and get drunk. I leave Gelton at a moment's notice just to please you. But you cry because we leave. You're right, and I don't understand! Let's leave it at that. In future we won't talk about
those
things. Let's forget it. Here! Do have a cigarette. I tell you what, let's have a cup of tea. I'll ring now, eh?' and he pressed the button on the window-sash.

She looked at his big hands. ‘Sometimes I know that you—well, I mean——Oh, Desmond, I'm always afraid something might happen. That we might lose each other. When I say you don't understand—I don't mean to hurt. It's silly to think that. I mean that—well, suppose we left each other. Something happened. Say——'

‘Nothing can happen to us. We're too happy. We didn't meet like we did for nothing. You
see
! You think I'm indifferent, sometimes, in fact you think, to put it bluntly, that I'm a bit of a pig. Well, you wait, I'll show you how true
that
is.'

‘Don't talk childish. Anyhow here's the man with the tea.'

‘Damn the man with the tea!' he replied. ‘They all think I'm something of a pig, but they're all wrong. I'm no pig. I'll help all of them in good time. D'you think I enjoy knowing that at this moment I couldn't lay hands on one of our family? Everybody should be happy, in this world, anyhow. I used to stand at street corners for years, doling out that advice. But it went down the drains. Mugs! Can't do anything with them. I wasn't getting anywhere. I don't thank anybody for getting where I've got. There are people in this bloody world who'd like you to remain as big mugs as themselves. You know, I once dreamed of mother and you—oh, but that's fairy-like. Let's have tea,' and he began sorting out the things on the tray.

He handed her a cup. ‘What d'you think?
D'you
think I'm a pig?' he asked.

‘Sometimes, darling When you snore! Don't be so self-conscious. Here! More sugar.'

‘It's just occurred to me,' he began. ‘Funny I never thought of it before. Just suppose this bloody war stopped—why, it would mean the end of my work, wouldn't it? I mean—well, I've just been thinking about it. You see, my position with the unions isn't so easy now—unless, of course, they all line up with the same positions as the government. Just now as I was looking out of the window I said to myself: “Fury, you're a lucky devil.” I mean watching those fellows doing the work I used to do. And now I've got this idea into my head, and if I saw another platelayer on the line it would—oh, I don't know——I'd hate to go back to that. Ah well, here's to a bloody good war!' he concluded, raising the cup of tea in the air. ‘A bloody, good, long war!'

Suddenly, he asked: ‘D'you mind me talking about your brother, I mean about the things he told me?' and without waiting for an answer he asked bluntly: ‘Would you go back to Ireland, say if—well, suppose things got pretty bad there, and you
had
to go? Say something went wrong. Your brother says everything's wrong there. But your mother, for instance? Suppose——'

‘I couldn't go back there,' she said.

Her coolness shocked him. ‘But suppose everything was going to rot—ruin?'

‘That would be the best thing that could happen. The trees there never grow. They just fall. Why are you talking like this? Besides, I thought we had agreed not to. I won't like you any better for it. Am I to be continually telling you that there are things you'll never understand? If we're happy, why talk about dead things? And I wish you would think of some other future than a bloody long war! It's not like you to say that, Desmond, and I'm a bit surprised. When will you be satisfied? I wonder?'

‘All I can say is that it amazes me to hear you talk the way you do. Those people of yours must be poisonous or something. But that is a thing one could find out for oneself. Well, you don't want to talk about it. All right. Leave it at that. It's not a very pleasant journey, is it?'

‘It is. People don't want to be talking all the time, you silly!'

‘I'll be practical. What kind of place is it we're going to?' he asked.

‘A flat near Westminster, darling. That ought to please you immensely.'

‘It does. A minute ago you asked me when I'd be satisfied. Not yet, Sheila. Not for a long, long time,' and to himself he was saying: ‘When I really feel sure about you, and when I've got where I
want
to go, then I can help everybody.'

‘Are you satisfied?' he asked, putting an arm round her shoulder.

‘I'm happy when you're happy,' she said. ‘Sometimes I think living is hard. I mean living honestly. It's terribly difficult to be honest. Look at your people. And mine. I'm satisfied now, where I was never satisfied before. The difference is the thing you don't understand, darling.'

‘D'you know people in London?' he enquired.

This roused her curiosity. ‘I used to know
some
. D'you?'

‘Unfortunately, no. Well, I know one or two Union officials, but only slightly.'

‘Oh! But why d'you want to be knowing people all the time, darling? I think one can know too many. But you'll find that out. Just wait. I don't want to know
anybody
. My world is you, Des. Don't you realize that?'

He drew her hand to his mouth, and kissed it. ‘'Course I do, Sheila. But living—well, you have to move about. You
have
to know people. I've always been quite honest with you. At least I hope I have. I've hidden nothing—nothing to be ashamed of. I'm not interested in where you came from. But I was curious. That's all. Your brother—well, he told me such a curious story. But I won't talk about that any more. I know you don't like it. I know this much about myself, that all the time I must keep reminding myself of
where
I began. That keeps me going. Understand? My plan is a simple one. I want to push as high as I can. I want that kind of living. When you've rubbed your nose on the stone for a long time, everything above it——'

‘Tickets please?' droned the voice of the inspector as he came into the car.

Captain Fury took out his tickets, and this time they were not returned to him. They were near the end of the journey. Thank heaven for that.

Half an hour later they were speeding in a taxi towards their Westminster flat.

There was a telegram summoning the Captain to a conference at Newton Buildings for ten o'clock the following morning. Captain Fury beamed. That meant that the Gelton efforts had impressed. Just wait! In a few weeks time he'd show them how to organize labour and use it for the successful prosecution of this ‘bloody war.'

And then Sheila retired to bed. Desmond stood at the window looking out on the darkened city. Westminster! The very atmosphere smelt of power. Fine! Splendid! Wonderful! A damned Colonel soon! And that wouldn't be the end. Far from it. He went upstairs, to his wife. He was all smiles. The Gelton dirt was gone. What a fine flat it was! He complimented Sheila on her cleverness.

But she didn't want to be complimented. She merely wanted to sleep.

He kissed her, said he wouldn't be up for an hour. He had some letters to write. Then he went downstairs. He did not write them, however, for some time. Instead he put on a pair of slippers and stood by the open window again looking out. London. Wonderful! Westminster. Marvellous! It just showed. War did good things as well as bad. Then he wandered through the four rooms, admiring the furniture, the wallpaper. Finally he sat down to write.

12A D
ANTON
P
LACE
, L
ONDON
,

9
th
.

D
EAR
M
OTHER
,

What has happened? I can't understand! I'm sorry I was unable to call and see you at the hospital, but I was called away suddenly and simply
had
to go: see how important I'm getting! I hope you are getting better, and that this letter will reach you. To make sure I'm registering it, and enclosing a pound for yourself. I can't understand your other letter coming back marked ‘address unknown.' I hope you haven't shifted again. You know, Mother, although we don't see eye to eye with each other, all the same I'm not that black-hearted. I always wanted to help you really. You ought to know that. And now with the home broke up as it is, I want to see you right. And dad. I went to see him. I'm also writing him to-night. I think he ought to give up going to sea, and try and get something light ashore. As I say, I hate not having seen you, because you did look terribly ill that first time I went. But there! Things happen. I'm sure you'll understand. I want to help dad and you in some way. But before I could do that I had to help myself. So cheer up, Mother. You never know, I may have to go to Gelton some time. So do send me your proper address. I understand why you left the old house. It has been a very sad year for all of us. But everything will come all right in the end. And you could still make a home. I mean for dad and Anthony. I tried to get hold of Maureen but that's hopeless. Everything looks rotten at the moment, but it won't always be rotten. I keep telling myself that what I'm doing now is just to help you all one fine day. I only arrived here to-day and haven't even settled in yet. Another thing I've been trying to do was to let you have five bob weekly. I could afford that. So let me have your proper address and don't forget what I said. Cheer up. There's a good time coming. I remain your fond son.

D
ESMOND
F
URY
(
Captain, Auxiliary Labour Corps
).

He sealed the letter and stamped it. ‘Well, that's that. Now the other one.'

But though he started off full of enthusiasm, he discovered that it wasn't so easy as he thought. No. Better think over it a bit more. And it
was
worth thinking over. Nothing like seeing ahead. You had to, these days.