John Braine - Room at the Top

I heard the Librarian laughing. He had a high-pitched, rather effeminate laugh.

"That's his dirty-joke laugh," Reggie said. "He has a special one for every occasion. A respectful laugh, a refined laugh, a derisive laugh when I say something he doesn't agree with ... If he'd been my sergeant I could always have found a chance to shoot the bastard. I should have stayed in the Army."

"You intellectual types," Teddy said. "Never content."

The Librarian joined us. He was a small man with eyes so deep-set that they gave the effect of being mounted horizontally. He was about thirty-five, and didn't look as if he'd ever been any younger.

"Enjoying yourselves?" he asked.

"We're just fighting the war over again, sir," Reggie said. He winked at us. "We decided that we should have let the Russians polish off the Germans and then gone in and polished off the Russians with the atom bomb." He winked again at us.

"Just what I've always said." The Librarian fizzed with enthusiasm. "The Allies have paid dearly for their mistake. When I was in Germany I saw what the Russians were really like. I don't mind admitting that I was a bit of a Communist before the war, but I soon changed my tune ... What are you lads drinking?"

"We've ordered, thanks," I said. "Won't you have one with me?"

"Do you know, I think I will. They're all plutocrats at the Treasurer's, Reggie. That's always how it is: we torch bearers of culture are paid starvation wages, and the hard materialists, the men of facts and figures, are the lords of creation. I'll have a half of bitter, Joe."

"Pints here," I said. "Nothing but pints."

"We are making a night of it, aren't we?" He laughed, but I couldn't classify the laugh this time. "Mr. Hoylake has just imparted a rather clever story. Two old colonels were sitting in their club one day - "

I didn't listen; I was remembering the way I'd checked Teddy and Reggie, I was remembering the way Hoylake had, in effect, refused a drink from me and then from the Librarian. He'd bought the drinks, not out of kindness but because of a protocol that wasn't, when one weighed it up, very much less rigid than diplomatic protocol. But the prizes were so small; Hoylake was the richest man in the room, with a salary of a thousand. George Aisgill, I was certain, would spend that amount on food and drink and petrol alone. Even Bob Storr wouldn't get much less than a thousand. In business, I ruminated, I'd have to soft-soap people whom I despised, I'd have to steer the conversation towards their favourite subjects, I'd have to stand them meals and drinks. But the game was worth the candle; if I sold my independence, at least I'd get a decent price for it.

" - And the second old colonel said: ' Female camel, of course. There's nothing queer about old Carruthers.'" The Librarian threw back his head and laughed shrilly.

The beer was beginning to take hold of me; I realised that I'd had seven pints without noticing it. I worked out a little sum in my head: five one-and-fours plus one one-and-four minus one one-and-four from Hoylake - "

"I meant to tell you. Joe," the Librarian said, "how much I enjoyed your performance in The Farm ."

"Hell," Teddy said, "so did he. I bet he rehearsed those love scenes! Admit it, you young ram."

"Tut tut," I said. "My relations with Mrs. Aisgill are pure as the driven snow."

"Funny old driven snow," Reggie said.

The Librarian giggled. "You really shouldn't cast aspersions. Though to tell you the truth I shouldn't personally object to a pure friendship with the lady to whom you refer." He wiped the sweat from his brow and took a long pull from his pint pot. Like most inexperienced drinkers, he felt obliged to keep up with the rest of the party; with a heroic effort, he drained off the rest of the pint, then hiccuped painfully. "Excuse me, gentlemen, I must go to change the goldfish's water, as the French say." He went out hastily, looking pale.

When he'd left, we burst out laughing. "Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging," Reggie said. "The poor devil's not used to it, is he?"

"It's the thought of Alice," Teddy said, "unchaste thoughts are running riot."

"Tell the truth, Joe," Reggie said. "Aren't you doing a bit for her?"

"You mustn't ask me such questions. If I say yes, I'm a cad, and if I say no, I'm a liar." I grinned maliciously. "Would you like her yourself, Reggie?"

"My God, would I not! She's terrific. A trifle long in the tooth, mark you, but she has style, real style."

"What about June?" Teddy said. "Say a kind word for June. She has the merit of being a virgin too."

"She's only a child," Reggie said. "I'd feel the hot breath of the Sunday press of my neck if I made a pass at her. There's no comparison."

I felt a deep exultation. Whatever desires they had been tormented by, I'd fulfilled, and in six days would fulfill again. I was given for the asking what they'd never get in a thousand years; and I'd be given Susan too; and, if I wanted her, there was no reason why I shouldn't be given June.

Then I thought of Sparrow Hill and Warley Moor again. I knew that there was a cold wind outside and a light covering of snow. It would be quiet there and untouched and clean. The beer went dead inside me; I felt choked with my own selfishness as nasty as catarrh; there was nothing in my heart to match the lovely sweep of the moor and the sense of infinite space behind it and a million extra stars above. Then I shook the depression off me.

"Let's have a song," I said. "Clean but not too clean. Music, Teddy, please. 'The Foggy Foggy Dew.'"

Teddy struck the first keys on the cottage piano in the corner and I started to sing. Soon everyone was singing.

I loved her in the winter and in the summer too and the only thing I ever did wrong was to shield her from the foggy foggy dew ...

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Hoylake humming the tune to himself, an expression of benign approval on his face.

"You're quiet, darling," Alice said.

"I was admiring your figure," I said. "My God, you are beautiful. I'd like a picture of you like this. I'd keep it locked away, and look at it whenever I felt depressed ..."

Looking back, I can see exactly how it happened. It need never have happened; those were the key words, spoken idly in Elspeth's flat one Friday evening. If, out of any of the countless million at my disposal, I'd used any other words, then my whole life, and hers, would have taken different courses. But her next words, spoken as idly as mine, started the avalanche.

She laughed. "There is a picture of me in the nude," she said. She named a Homes Counties town. "It's still at the municipal gallery, as far as I know. I was an artist's model once."

It was as if the soft hand gently caressing me had turned hard and big and hit me. I felt sick and betrayed and dirtied. I moved away from her in the bed. "You never told me. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'd almost forgotten about it. It wasn't very important, anyway. I badly needed money, and I met this artist at a party and he wanted a model. I modelled for a photographer too. That was all. I didn't do it again."

"Didn't you?" I asked hoarsely. "Are you sure?"

"I don't tell lies," she said quietly. "You know that." Her eyes were cold. Then she smiled and stretched out her hand. "Darling, what a pother about nothing at all! I'd never have told you if I'd known you'd carry on like that. I didn't sleep with either of them, if that's what you're thinking, so you can set your mind at rest."

"Oh God," I said miserably, "what did you do it for? You didn't have to, there's millions of women have been as poor as you were and they'd rather have died than expose themselves like that for a few lousy shillings. Damn you to hell, I'd like to beat you black and blue."