John Braine: Room at the Top

He was one of those local government officers who have a guilty feeling about security of employment and the thirty-eight hour week; he was continually reminding us of the toughness of the world outside. And he was always worrying about what the Council thought of us. He needn't have; the majority of the members of the Council wouldn't have noticed if the entire Town Hall staff had gone to work naked. But there were some who, for the sake of publicity in the local rag, appointed themselves as scourgers of the pampered bureaucracy. Whenever there was a headline in the Dufton Observer (Councillor Hits Out at Conference, Let Town Hall Punch Time Clock, Salary Increase Fantastic) the Efficient Zombie would be stirred to increased activity and there would follow a spate of typewritten notices beginning, It has been brought to my attention, and ending THIS MUST STOP. Worse still, there were what he called Pep Talks which were made especially gruesome by the fact that, since he seemed to be able to speak and scarcely open his lips, his clear metallic voice seemed to come from nowhere.

We were expected to work all the time, which appears reasonable enough. The drawback was that we were always beginning jobs and then being forced to break them off, which in the long run wastes more time than the odd ten minutes spent smoking or flirting with the typist. And we worked overtime at least one evening a week; this pleased him very much, especially if a member of the Council heard about it, but had his staff been allowed to establish their own rhythm of working it wouldn't have been necessary.

Hoylake was eveything that the Efficient Zombie wasn't. He was short and tubby and amiable with an odd little toothbrush moustache and black library spectacles; he always reminded me of Robertson Hare except that he had a slight Yorkshire accent. He left us to our own devices; he didn't give a damn how the work was done as long as it was finished when we'd promised, and he refused to be bothered with details. His department in consequence was much more efficient than the Efficient Zombie's: we were a team of professionals, not a collection of adding-machines.

That was, so to speak, another gift from Warley: I was for the first time completely happy in my work. And I'd joined the Thespians and was beginning to mix with people of a kind I'd never mixed with before. The Thespians was like a club - one which, particularly if you were a young man, was very easy to join. It was exclusive too; though there was nothing to stop working-class people joining it they somehow never did. Apart from that, the Thespians gave me something which I'd never enjoyed before: the sense of belonging, of being part of a community. Perhaps that sounds portentous, but let it stand. All in all, I was happy and contented; too much so perhaps. I'd already forgotten the resolution I made that afternoon at Sylvia's Café.

We were going over the C. and D. in the small room by the Lending Library counter which the Chief Assistant liked to call his office, though in actuality it was only a workroom. I saw Eva though the glass partition. The Chief Assistant beckoned her inside.

"Come and testify to my character, darling," he said. "Joe's practically accused me of cooking the books."

"My favourite man is never wrong."

"I thought I was your favourite man," the Chief Assistant said.

She patted him on the hand. "Until Joe came along, Reggie dear." She looked at the rows of new books. "Have you anything really shocking, Reggie? I adore mucky books, and you never have any in stock."

She was wearing a scent like burnt roses; it seemed to fill the room, overlaying the smell of books and Pollywog paste.

"Do you know any good ones, Joe?" she asked me.

"I like my pornography in real life," I said.

"Well, what are we waiting for?"

Reggie was watching us with a curious intentness; the Library was the clearing house for all the town's gossip. I decided to change the subject.

"Did you know I'm playing Joshua?" I flexed my biceps and threw out my chest. "The strength of a giant and the heart of a child. Led away by a wicked woman - "

"Damn the Casting Committee," she said, " I wanted to lead you astray, why didn't they give me the part?"

"The housekeeper's much nicer," Reggie said. "Needs real acting. Anyone can play Leda."

"Maybe," Eva said gloomily, "but I'm fed up with being wholesome. I long to be seductive and tempting. What's Alice got that I haven't got?"

"Who's Alice?" I asked.

"You've met her, you dope. Tall and slim and blonde. Used to act in Rep. You might have noticed her if you hadn't been making eyes at Susan."

"Is she married?"

"I hope so, she's been living with him nearly ten years. George Aisgill; you've met him too, he came to the last Social Evening. Lots of money. They seem happy enough - " She stopped, as if she were on the verge of indiscretion.

"I remember her now," I said. "She seemed a bit offhand. In fact, definitely cold."

"You mean that she didn't succumb immediately to your charms," Reggie said. His tone was light, I couldn't take offence but I resolved to be more careful in front of him in future.

"You should never look at one woman when you're talking to another," Eva said. "No wonder the poor darling was offhand. Alice is a very sweet person indeed and I won't hear a word against her, so there."

"She's a damned good actress," Reggie said. "God, she was wonderful in The Playground . Absolutely exuded sex. Two old dears walked out in the middle of Act Two."

"Well, not quite as wonderful as all that," Eva said. "I saw it in London, and she'd pinched a lot of La Thomas's business - you remember the way she took off her shoes? But she'll manage the part. She'll teach Joe a lot."

"Tall and slim and blonde. Goodgoodgood, I'm willing to learn."

"You'll have to keep an eye on him," Reggie said. His dark little face seemed rather wistful.

"Ee, lad, doan't tak on soa," Eva said, quoting from the play, "T'world's not ended 'cos tha's made a gurt fooil of thisen. We'll mak summat of thee yet."

Reggie put away the C. and D. "I'd better make sure that my staff isn't making a gurt fooil of itsen," he said, as he went out of the room to where the white-haired man was still trying to explain what he wanted to the junior assistant.

"Come and help me pick my books, Joe," Eva said, taking my arm. "Our Mr. Scurrah's quite agreeable, isn't he? A trifle flabby though. It's no job for a man."

"They're not all the same," I said.

Eva felt my biceps with hard little fingers. "You're a strong brute."

"I used to box."

"Don't you any more?"

"I didn't see the point of getting bashed up for nothing and I wasn't good enough to be a professional."

"You be a professional," she said, "and I'll run away with you. I couldn't resist a big, brutal, sweaty boxer."

I glanced quickly round the Library. We'd gone over to the Drama section, an alcove on the far side of the Lending Library. No one could see us, even if they'd been looking that way.

"I thought you were going to run away with me," I said. "Just for a weekend."

"I don't know what you mean." Her voice had lost its flirtatiousness.

"You said on Sunday - "

"So that's it. Merely because I let you give me a beery kiss in the Props Room, you think the balloon's going up ... No, dear, but no definitely."

"What did you promise for?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "You seemed to expect it. Besides, I'm not sure that I did promise you anything."

I felt a spasm of lust and anger. When I had kissed her on Sunday it had seemed that everything was going my way. At last, I thought, feeling her body against me, soft and scented, clean all over, above all, expensive, I was going to have a woman who would neither weep with shame afterwards nor eat fish and chips while she was doing it. I would have done better for myself at the Dufton Locarno.