Muriel Spark - The Ballad of Peckham Rye

‘Nor do I,’ said Arthur.

‘No more do I,’ said Humphrey.

‘I know you think he’s perfect,’ Dixie said. ‘He can do no wrong. But I’m just telling you what Trevor said. So don’t say I didn’t tell you.’

‘Trevor’s having you on,’ Humphrey said. ‘He doesn’t like Dougal.’

‘I like him,’ Arthur said.

‘I like him,’ Mavis said. ‘Our Leslie don’t like him. Dixie don’t like him.’

‘I like him,’ Humphrey said. ‘My sister Elsie doesn’t like him.’

‘Is Mr Douglas at home?’

‘Well, he’s up in his room playing the typewriter at the moment,’ said Miss Frierne, ‘as you can hear.’

‘Can I go up?’

‘No, I must inquire. Come inside, please. What name?’

‘Miss Coverdale.’

Miss Frierne left Miss Coverdale in that hall which was lined with wood like a coffin. The sound of the typewriter stopped. Dougal’s voice called down from the second landing, ‘Come up.’ Miss Frierne frowned in the direction of his voice. ‘Top floor,’ she said to Merle.

‘I’m miserable. I had to see you,’ Merle said to Dougal. ‘What a nice little room you’ve got here!’

‘Why are you not at work?’ Dougal said.

‘I’m too upset to work. Mr Druce is talking of leaving the country for good. What should I do?’

‘What do you want to do?’ Dougal said.

‘I want to go with him but he won’t take me.’

‘Why not?’

‘He knows I don’t like him.’

Dougal stretched himself out on the top of his bed.

‘Does Mr Druce mention any date for his departure?’

‘No, there’s nothing settled. Perhaps it’s only a threat. But I think he’s frightened of something.’

Dougal sat up and placed one hand within the other. He shortened his eyesight and peered at Merle with sublime appreciation. ‘Dougal,’ he said, ‘there is a little place in Soho, would you not come to spend the evening and have a chat? Mrs Druce is just a bit difficult, she watches -‘

‘Oh, don’t,’ Merle said. ‘It brings everything back to me. I can’t tell you how I hate the man. I can’t bear him to be near me. And now, after all these years, the best years of my life, the swine talks of leaving me.

Dougal lay back with his arms behind his head. ‘What’s he frightened of?’ he said.

‘You,’ Merle said. ‘He’s got hold of the idea that you’re spying on him.’

‘In what capacity?’

‘Oh, I couldn’t say.’

‘Yes, you could.’

‘If you’re working for the police, Dougal, please tell me. Think of my position. After all, I told you about Mr Druce in all innocence and if I’m going to be dragged into anything -‘

‘I’m not working for the police,’ Dougal said.

‘Well, of course, I knew you wouldn’t admit it.’

‘What guilty wee consciences you’ve all got,’ Dougal said.

‘Don’t do anything about Mr Druce, will you? The Board are just waiting for an excuse, and if they get to know about his deals and all that it will only come back on me. Where will I stand if he emigrates?’

‘Who tipped Druce off? Was it Trevor Lomas?’

‘No, it was Dixie, the little bitch. She’s been going in and out to Mr Druce a lot behind my back.’

‘Ah well. Take some shorthand dictation, will you, as you’re here?’ He got up and fetched her a notebook and a Biro pen.

‘Dougal, I’m upset.’

‘There’s nothing like work to calm your emotions. After all, you should be working at this moment. Are you ready? Tell me if I’m going too fast:

“Peckham was fun exclamation mark but the day inevitably dawned when I realized that I and my beloved pals at the factory were poles apart full stop The great throbbing heart of London across the river spelt fame comma success comma glamour to me full stop I was always an incurable romantic exclamation mark New para The poignant moment arrived when I bade farewell to my first love full stop Up till now I had had eyes for no others but fate – capital F – had intervened full stop We kissed dot dot dot a shudder went through my frame dot dot dot every fibre of my being spoke of gratitude and grief but the budding genius within me cried out for expression full stop And so we parted for ever full stop New para I felt a grim satisfaction as the cab which bore me and my few poor belongings bowled across Vauxhall Bridge and into the great world – capital G capital W – ahead full stop Yes comma Peckham had been fun exclamation mark” Now, leave a space, please, and -‘

‘What’s all this about?’ Merle said.

‘Don’t fuss, you’re putting me off.’

‘God, if Mr Druce thought I was working in with you, he’d kill me.’

‘Leave a space,’ Dougal said, ‘then a row of dots. That denotes a new section. Now continue. “Throughout all the years of my success I have never forgotten those early comma joyful comma innocent days in Peckham full stop Only the other day I came across the following paragraph in the paper -“ Hand me the paper,’ Dougal said, ‘till I find-the bit.’

She passed him the newspaper. ‘Dougal,’ she said, ‘I’m going.’

‘Surely not till you’ve typed it out for me?’ he said. ‘There isn’t much more to take down.’

He found the paragraph and said, ‘Put this bit in quotation marks. Are you ready? “The excavations on the underground tunnel leading from the police-station yard at Peckham are now nearing completion full stop The tunnel comma formerly used by the nuns of the Order of St Bridget comma stretches roughly six hundred yards from the police station bracket formerly the site of the priory unbracket to Gordon Road and not comma as formerly. supposed comma to Nunhead. Archaeologists have reported some interesting finds and human remains all of which will be removed before the tunnel is open to the public quite shortly full stop end quotes.”‘

‘Is this a police report?’ Merle said. ‘Because if so I don’t want to do it. Dougal. Mr Druce would -‘

‘Only a few more words,’ Dougal said. ‘Ready? New paragraph “When I read the above tears started to my eyes full stop How well did I recall every detail of that station yard two exclamation marks The police in my day were far from -“‘

‘I can’t go on,’ Merle said. ‘This is putting me in a difficult position.’

‘All right, dear,’ Dougal said. He sat up and stroked her long neck till she started to cry.

‘Type it out,’ Dougal said, ‘and forget your troubles. It’s a nice typewriter. You’ll find the paper on the table.’

She sat up to the table and typed from her shorthand notes.

Dougal lay back on his bed. ‘There is no more beautiful sight.’ he said, ‘than to see a fine woman bashing away at a typewriter.’

‘Is Mr Douglas in?’

‘He’s up in his room writing out his reports. He’s busy.’

‘Can I go up?’

‘I’ll see if it’s convenient. But he’s busy. Come inside, please. What name?’

‘Elaine Kent.’

‘Come up,’ Dougal called from the second landing.

‘You may go up,’ Miss Frierne said. ‘Top floor.’ Miss Frierne stood and watched her climbing out of sight.

‘You’ve been putting too much water in the plant,’ Elaine said, feeling the soil round the potted ivy. ‘You should water it once a week only.’

‘People come here to cry,’ Dougal said, ‘which accounts for an excess of moisture in this room.

She took a crumpled brown-paper bag from her shopping basket. They were Dougal’s socks which had been washed and darned.

‘There’s talk going round about you,’ Elaine said. ‘Makes me laugh. They say you’re in the pay of the cops.’

‘What’s funny about it?’

‘Catch the Peckham police boys spending their money on you.’