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."At first he was angry and then he gave Nellie a splintered smile, very sly.She did not know where to look.Marilyn affected a snowy cold."Venus is the star I like most," Tom informed Marilyn in his ordinary tones, "it's like the mooring light of a ship that seems to be moving and isn't.I noticed last night through the roof.""You write poetry I suppose," said Marilyn.He assured her eagerly that he did."In my Logbook.I never show it though.And I have ideas that wouldn't do for stories I suppose.I once knew a woman who wrote stories.She's dead now.This is an idea: a woman tall as the air and white, shaped like bells, and she has chains of rubies: you pull them off and she dies.Then I once knew a man who was fond of spiders, he told me all about them; what they felt."Nellie began to make a great clatter, bang the china about, pour out wine, shout, swear, roughhouse, like a stableboy.Tom took no notice and went on confiding in Marilyn.Nellie banged her plate with her knife, shouted, "Eh, young Cotter, throw me that rose, you daft fool, you do look silly in it!"Tom took no notice but bent his head nearer and went on chatting."Thomas is not a good name for you," said Marilyn."It's not my name, it's my father's name.I have no name of my own," he replied."What do you do?""I can heal some people," he said."I should have been a doctor I expect.If I knew how, combined with my feeling for people, and if I practiced, I could cure people.I'd like to do that.""What's your brother saying?" asked Flo of Nellie."I don't know," said Nellie, "but he's bogus.""He's saying that he can heal," Hardcast's voice was heard."He can give women children, I suppose, that's the kind of miracle he can perform," said Binnie."No, pet, he can't, but he can get the women thinking about children.They have only to look at those big eyes sailing right out of his head and they start sighing for a boy," said Nellie, "a boy under a flowering May tree, isn't that so, Tom?"Tom stopped talking and stared at her.She cackled, "Eh, eh, I made you stop the sweet drool."He looked at her sternly."Eh, Cushie, you remind me too much of Bridgehead," said Eliza; "don't do it."Nellie laughed, was so pleased she seemed to fly, eyes winking, hair sticking out like straws, arms akimbo, legs flying about, shoulders waggling, she sketched a fairy hobbledehoy, a woman cut free from the earth."Airmen are a great blessing, they can drop in on a woman anywhere," said Flo."You can make your selection as they parachute past," said someone else."Let them go past," said Nellie; "we're all right."Tom got up to go out.He stepped through their crossed legs.They were drawn away from the table, close together.Their legs, the stool legs, the chair legs, the bottles and glasses formed a series of circles and the late sun coming through the back, spread its rays through them.He had to cross the empty space to get out.He stopped in the middle, looked round and taking the rose from his ear, threw it to Eliza.Nellie instantly threw her wineglass at his hand as if to stop him.She was half drunk: it was one of George's best wineglasses.A few drops of blood fell fell onto George's green carpet.He took his hand with the other hand and caressed it, held up the smear of blood."You fool," she said."Bad thing," said Tom."What's that for?" said Marilyn."It's just something they do in their family," said Florence.Tom made his way out."I'm sorry, pet," said Nellie, rushing round."No, you're not," said Tom."Did I hurt you, pet?""You didn't kill me.""Forgive your dumb sister, Tom.""I don't mind horseplay.""I'm a beast to you, Tom.""You're a sweir beast," he said and went out.Flo laughed and sang from the old ballad, "For Nellie is a sweir beast and canna cross the wa-ter."Nellie gave her a dark look.He went for the earliest of his trains, leaving the house about five; and Nellie did not try to keep him back.He was rather angry at being forced out and at the neglect.He had folded up his canvas bed and stood it in the shed, pushing his little tin trunk into a corner of the attic; and put out some canvas shoes, a flying suit and an old leather flying-jacket for Nellie to give to the bazaar.He mentioned these things to Nellie as he was leaving."Do you mind if I give them to poor Walter the window cleaner, Tom? I know you don't take to him, but he needs them.""You know me better.""You're leaving me in anger, Tom.""Don't do anything I wouldn't do.""You'll telephone me tomorrow night, won't you, Tom? Before I go.""I'll do my best.""And write to me, pet, give me all the news.""Yes.""And don't forget Eliza! She's going to the station with you.I forgot to mention it to you, Eliza.Would you go with the poor lad, Eliza sweetheart? Would ye darling? Oh, that would be glorious.Bless ye, darling.And then I know you're spending the evening with your Irish friends.We'll miss you."Tom picked up his leather and canvas grips, swung them out to the front steps and waited patiently for Eliza.Nellie, standing in the doorway leaning her backbone against the doorpost, smiled at him under lowered lids.Tom smiled back.Nellie, he supposed, wanted a report on him.What girl was seeing him off at the station? No one was.Eliza came stoutly along with her red hat and handbag."I hope you don't mind," said Nellie, "I know you want to get an early night, Lize, I know you've got to start early tomorrow.I know you don't think much of carousing, pet.It's a weakness, you're right, Lize: it's in me blood.Will you be round tomorrow night sweetheart? I'm expecting your remote-control troubadour of a George to put in an appearance, tomorrow night.Will ye come then, Lize? That'll be glorious darling.Ah, it's sweet of you to go with Tom: I'm eternally grateful."She got them off and shut the door.Tom went loping along."Then you're not going back to the party, Eliza?""Well, you can see for yourself, she didn't expect me back."Tom became somber.They said nothing while they walked up to the bus, nothing at the bus stop, till Eliza said, "Didn't you want me to come?""Yes.""I am quite ashamed, Tom.It was like the old days.You know Nellie: she has to dominate."Tom said, "But she would never do me any real harm.She's true to me."Eliza felt upset.She said suddenly, "I don't know if she is, always.""Nellie has got to come first," said Tom: "I don't mind.""Do you mind going off?""Well, I'm glad you came too.A new job is always a bit of a worry: you feel nervous.You don't know what will happen.But I like to work.I know I'm going to be buried alive up there, but it's the same anywhere.""Well, you could try to get to London for a job.""I might try.But I must see how it is up there first.I don't suppose I'll stay.""Don't you think you made a mistake to take a lower salary than before?"He was annoyed, but said after a moment, "I don't care.What does it matter? I don't get the money, anyway.I don't need anything.I can live on bread and tea and I like it.""Oh, well, I can too.But what I miss most, is the hahm, if I can't afford it," said Eliza, in her longing for ham, speaking in a deep voice.At the station they had the final cup of tea.Tom was suddenly unwilling to go, said, Why was he going? They could go to the movies, go to a lunchroom—he could put up somewhere for the night, anything not to quit London too early.But he hopped on the old-fashioned country train at the last moment, with a book by C.E.Montague that he had heard was good and entertaining.She saw his boyish, peaked, blue-eyed face leaning, full of yearning for London, out of the square train-window.Even as the train moved, he said, "Shall I jump off? We'll go somewhere.I can go tomorrow." But the train moved faster."I'm so glad you came," he called back: "I'm glad it was you."The women in Lamb Street sat round talking, smoking, eating and were, in their relations with Caroline, stand-offish, friendly, curious, reticent, according to what they thought of her [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]