David Storey - Saville

Stafford lit Marion’s cigarette with a lighter and then lit his own. They blew out clouds of smoke past Audrey’s face. Their cigarettes alight, Stafford replaced his arm on the back of Marion’s seat.

‘I don’t think much of the picture,’ Marion said.

‘Same here,’ Stafford said. He stroked Marion’s hair casually, almost absent-minded, gazing down to the heads below.

‘What’s the second one called?’ Marion said.

‘I don’t know,’ Stafford said. He shook his head, the cigarette slipped in between his lips. Marion held hers between her fingers stiffly, her hand held up against her face, her lips pouting, her head erect.

‘Fancy anything to eat, Smithers?’ Stafford said.

‘No thanks,’ Audrey said and shook her head. Her elbow, now the lights were on, had been lowered slowly against her side.

‘Can I get you anything?’ Colin said.

‘No thanks,’ she said again.

‘Get you anything, Colin?’ Stafford said.

‘No thanks,’ he said.

Stafford looked round at the other couples; there were one or two other boys from the school, and one or two girls from the girls’ school sitting in pairs. Most of them Colin scarcely knew; he sat gazing steadily at the folds of the heavy curtain, and the heads, mainly of children, visible in the stalls below.

Stafford had called out to several boys in the rows in front, and one of them came back to lean over the adjoining seats and to take a cigarette.

‘Hello, darling,’ Marion said.

‘Hello, Marion,’ the boy had said, stooping to Stafford’s lighter then puffing out, briskly, a massive cloud of smoke.

‘Isn’t Shirley with you today?’ she said.

‘I’m with Eileen today, my dear,’ he said, winking at Stafford who immediately laughed.

‘I’d be careful with her, my darling,’ Marion said, puffing slowly at her cigarette. She held it to her mouth as if she were kissing the palm of her hand. As the two boys laughed she crossed her legs and Stafford, who was glancing down, placed his hand across her knee. ‘None of that, my dear,’ she added and leaving the cigarette between her lips carefully withdrew it.

The lights went out. The second film began: Marion sank lower in her seat. When Colin glanced across he saw their heads seemingly locked together, their cigarettes glowing as they held them out.

He moved his arm against Audrey’s but otherwise gazed vacantly before him at the screen.

Later, outside, Stafford said, ‘Fancy a walk, or a cup of tea?’

‘Can you get tea at this time?’ Marion said.

‘There’s a place in the market I sometimes go to,’ Stafford said. He put his arm around Marion’s waist, but as she straightened her coat she lifted it away.

‘Honestly, if we’re seen in the streets, we’ll never hear the end of it. Not from Miss Wilkinson, at least,’ she said. ‘There’s going to be a school rule that we can’t even talk to boys in school uniform. Isn’t that true?’ She turned to Audrey.

They walked in pairs, Stafford and Marion in front, the dark-haired girl frequently turning round to pass some comment. They talked mainly about girls at the school, and boys they’d heard about in conversations.

‘They take a groundsheet and go out to Bratley Woods. Honestly, if anyone saw them, they’d be expelled.’

‘I’ve got a groundsheet,’ Stafford said.

‘You’re not getting me to share it,’ Marion said. ‘Honestly, give them half an inch and they want a mile.’

They reached the market; numerous canvas-covered stalls were set out in rows in front of an ancient, brick-built market-hall. Arched entrances led to the gas-illuminated stalls inside. At each corner of the square stood a tiny shop, the windows of which had been drawn up: at one of them women were serving tea. One or two buns were for sale inside.

‘What’s it to be, then, ladies?’ Stafford said, and added, ‘No, no, on me, old man,’ when Colin began feeling in his pockets. He had no more money anyway, only the torn half of his return ticket.

They stood by the stall, drinking the tea and eating buns.

‘How’re we fixed for next Saturday, ladies?’ Stafford said. He stood in the centre of the footpath to drink his tea so that people passing had to step into the road.

‘We’re fixed very well, aren’t we, Audrey?’ Marion said. ‘I don’t know about you and Colin, though,’ she added, laughing then, her cup standing in its saucer on the counter.

‘Heart-breakers, these two, Colin,’ Stafford said.

‘We just don’t choose anyone to go out with, do we, Audrey?’ Marion said.

Audrey shook her head. She had on a light-coloured coat with a fur collar. The cuffs were also trimmed with fur. Her hair, which normally hung straight down, had been curled up around the edges. Marion wore a jacket with slanted pockets. She’d folded a silk scarf around her hair.

‘You don’t know what other invitations we might have had, do they, Audrey?’ Marion said.

Audrey scarcely drank her tea; the bun which Stafford had bought her she’d left untouched. Colin thought of eating it himself, asking her finally as they turned to leave.

‘I’m not feeling very hungry. You have it,’ she said, pleased that he’d thought to ask.

He ate it as they walked along. They passed through the crowds at the edge of the market, the two girls walking arm in arm, Colin on one side, when the crowds permitted, and Stafford on the other.

‘Fancy a stroll in the Park, my darling?’ Stafford said.

‘We know why you want to stroll in the Park. Don’t we, Audrey?’Marion said.

Audrey glanced at Colin and began to smile.

‘He’s only one thought in his mind, has that young man,’ Marion added.

Audrey laughed and shook her head. She flung out the hair around her collar. Vast crowds were now moving through the town, flooding the pavements and spreading to the road.

‘We could observe the trees, not to mention the ducks and the other appurtenances of the natural life,’ Stafford said.

‘Just listen to his language,’ Marion said. ‘That’s what comes from studying Latin.’

‘Don’t you study Latin?’ Stafford said.

‘Audrey studies Latin. I study modern languages,’ Marion said.

They passed through the city centre and turned down a steep, cobbled alleyway leading to the station. The two girls now had walked ahead, the pavement, after the confusion of the street, comparatively deserted.

‘We’re just watching your legs, Marion,’ Stafford said as they walked behind.

Marion was wearing stockings with a seam; Audrey wore small white ankle socks.

‘I’ll ask you to keep your eyes elsewhere,’ Marion said, only her ankles and the lower half of her calves visible beneath the hem of her skirt.

‘Where else would you like me to keep them?’ Stafford said.

‘If you were a gentleman I’m sure you wouldn’t have to ask, my darling,’ Marion said, walking with something of a swagger.

‘I could look a little higher, but then your back’s turned to us, darling,’ Stafford said.

‘We’ve nothing to reveal to you , my darling,’ Marion said, fastening her arm securely now in Audrey’s. ‘Have we, Audrey, dear?’ she added.

Ahead of them, at the top of a flight of steps, appeared the station yard.

‘In any case, we’re expected home for tea. Aren’t we, darling?’ Marion turned towards the steps. She and Audrey ran up together.

‘I say, you ought to go up more discreetly,’ Stafford said. ‘You can’t imagine how revealing it is to those who follow on behind.’

The two girls, however, had started laughing, their arms if anything bound closer, running now across the yard to the black, stone profile of the station. Low, with a steeply angled roof and a tall stone tower surmounted by a clock, the yard was partly covered by a metal canopy. The two girls, darting between the taxis, disappeared inside.