John Braine - Room at the Top

"We were talking about a young lady," Reggie said.

"Good, good," Hoylake said. He looked over the top of his glasses with mock severity. "You weren't taking her name lightly, I hope?"

"We were taking her very seriously," Reggie said. "We're deadly rivals for her affections. We contemplate a duel in Snow Park."

"What crowded lives my colleagues lead," said Hoylake. He lifted his whisky. "All the best, boys."

"I shall lose both ways," Reggie said. "If I win, she won't have me; I shall have hurt her precious Joe. If I were her I wouldn't look at him. What do you think of a young man who takes a sweet young girl out for months, then drops her flat, Mr. Hoylake?"

I found myself blushing. "Don't believe a word he says. She couldn't care less."

"Couldn't care less indeed!" Reggie laughed. There was a look of faint malice on his face. "She lights up when she hears his name. And he just doesn't bother. The best-looking girl in Warley too."

"They all fall for Joe," Hoylake said. "When he collects the taxes at Gilden all the women come in droves. They pay twice over to have five minutes longer with him." He sighed. "Mind you, when I was younger I'd have given him a run for his money."

I was thinking about what Reggie had said with increasing jubilation. I shut my mind against entire acceptance of his words; it was possible that her only feeling was one of hurt - at least slightly damaged - pride. If I asked her to go out with me again, that would retrieve her pride; if she used some transparently contrived excuse to put me off, she'd be completely revenged. But I knew, almost as soon as these thoughts passed through my head, that they were all nonsense; Susan simply wasn't the vendetta type.

"The prettiest girl in Warley," Hoylake said ruminatively. "Now, who could that be? Unmarried, I trust. Joe would meet her at the Thespians, I should imagine. Let me see - her name would begin with an S? Surname with a B? Dark hair and not entirely unconnected with the Chairman of the Finance Committee?"

"You're a first-rate detective," Reggie said.

"I'm an old busybody," Hoylake said. "We all are in Warley. Mind you, there's a lot to be said for it even when, though don't quote me - " he snickered as if deprecating his slight touch of self-importance - "it takes the form of scandalmongering. It indicates interest in one's fellow humans, which surely is an admirable thing. I'm glad that Joe here is beginning to take some part in the community life of Warley and isn't living outside the town. I thoroughly dislike commuting - people should live and work in the same place. But here I am, on the verge of talking shop ... I see your chief, Reggie. I must have a word with him. See you later." He went over to the Librarian; I noticed that he took his drink with him, barely touched. He was paid twice as much as the Librarian, and didn't wish to force him into buying expensive drinks.

"He's a clever little devil," Reggie said. "Not much he misses. Every move taped out."

"As long as I get on with him he can be as clever as he likes," I said. "Look, Reggie, are you really serious about Susan? I mean, did she really say all those things?"

"Why on earth should I joke about it?" He seemed a little indignant. "It's absolutely true. I mentioned The Farm - and then I talked about your performance. Among others, of course. I wasn't terribly impressed with you - she absolutely leapt to your defence. From then on, the conversation never left you. She lit up from inside when she talked about you. It's quite unmistakable, that look - a sort of dopey joyfulness. You're wearing it at present, incidentally."

"You want another drink," I said hastily.

"It's my turn. Don't try to sidetrack me."

"I drink two to your one, so it's fair enough."

"That's ridiculous," he said weakly, but I could tell that he was relieved. He looked round the room. "Small-town officials. My God, what a crew! You know something, Joe? I'd give a year's salary to get out of this town."

"I don't agree with you. I'm all for small towns. If they're the right kind."

"It's all very well for you, chum. You're a bright, efficient type. You stand out in a crowd. You're bound to get ahead in a place like Warley. And, of course, it's a novelty to you. If you'd lived here all your life you'd feel differently."

"I hate my own hometown," I said. "But that's different. Look, Dufton's awful. It stinks. Literally. It's dead as mutton. Warley's alive. I felt that from the first moment I set foot in the place. And there's so much of it, too; in five minutes you can be right away from everything. It's even got a history; you can find out something fresh about it every day ..." My voice trailed off; I was giving too much of myself away.

Reggie smiled. "Anyone'd think you were talking about a woman and not a perfectly ordinary market town with a few mills. You're a funny chap, Joe."

Teddy Soames came over to our table at that moment. "We're all funny here," he said. He belched loudly. "Excuse me, I'm a trifle intoxicated. Not that I should be. When I was in the RAF, the amount that I've forced down me tonight wouldn't have made me turn one of my Brylcreemed hairs." He sat down heavily. "Roll on the next war."

"Speak for yourself," Reggie said. "I never was so miserable in my whole life."

"It was monotonous at times, I grant you that," Teddy said. "But you had no worries and plenty of money. Plenty of beer and plenty of cigarettes and plenty of women. Shall we give them an old RAF song, Joe?" He started to sing softly. "Cats on the rooftops, cats on the tiles - "

"Whoa," I said. "It's too early for filthy ballads."

"I'd forgotten I was respectable," Teddy said. "I've sung that at all the best hotels in Lincolnshire. With Wingcos and Group Captains joining in. Happy happy days!"

"It may have been like that for you," Reggie said. "As far as I was concerned, war was hell. All I did at first was drill under a blazing sun in itchy woollen underwear. Then I peeled potatoes. Later on I became the British Army's most inefficient clerk. For a while I was quite happy. At least I didn't have to handle loaded weapons and such-like dangerous objects. Then some inhuman planner at the War Office started cutting down administrative staff. So I became the British Army's most frightened infantryman. The day I put on my demob suit was the happiest day of my life. Granted, I came home to discover that the bloody Library Association had made their exams ten times as difficult, thus giving a flying start to the women and the conchies - "

"No shop," Teddy said. "The Library Association's shop. Definitely." He looked at me then put out his hand to feel the texture of my suit. "High-grade worsted," he said. "And look at that shirt and tie! My goodness, Mr. Lampton, however do you manage on your coupons?"

"He has connections," Reggie said.

Reggie gave the clenched-fist salute. "Joe for King! Vote Labour!"

"You idiot," I said. "You know what Hoylake's like about politics."

"That's not politics," Teddy said. "Just a saying. Reggie used to chalk it on his tank before he went into battle."

"I never saw the inside of a tank," Reggie said. "I once saw a Jerry open the turret of a Sherman and throw in a hand grenade. The feeling of security they gave you at first sight was entirely ill-ill-illusory. Frankly, I've always believed in the old-fashioned war of attrition, when you stayed in a cosy concrete dugout and let the artillery do the fighting. I never could get HQ to agree with me, though. I always seemed to be advancing regardless. All over Africa, all over Italy."

"I thought I recognised you in Desert Victory," Teddy said. "A gallant figure with a bloodstained scarf round your head waving your men onward."

"I wish it had been me you saw," Reggie said. "I was one of the poor devils who got waved onward."