properly, from below untidy hair her blue eyes were sharp, yet worried, and also too self sure; her legs were quite customary, yet the arms were perfect; and ever more uneasily he watched those breasts.
He imagined he could see her arms without her noticing, so he was more open with these. But he did not touch.
Her arms built great thighs on her in his mind’s eye, while she might be asking him, “About those needle valves in stainless …”, made her quite ordinary calves into slighter echoes of what he could not see between knee and hip, as she might be saying, “Now those break vacuum cocks …”, but which, so he thought,must be unimaginably full and slender, when she wanted to know where the “accessible traps” came from, white, soft, curving and rounded with the unutterable question, the promise, the flowering of four years imprisonment with four thousand twirps. And he would lift his great brown eyes, and say, “They come from Smiths,” while she wondered, “Are my stockings straight, I wonder?”
It made him ashamed the way he felt about her.
But this was the sole promise there was in being alive. Hopelessly turned over to himself, as well as conscientious to a degree, so careful in his work there were occasions she could have shrieked at the way he wrote, time and again, to the same firm holding them to the last promise they had made, so careful with his words, tactfully nagging, letter after letter, never leaving them alone, so Dot was the only carrot in front of his nose, because he found of an evening, when he got back, that he barely existed, lived in a daze now that Rose was over.
Sometimes he would dream of red-haired fat women. But they were not at all like Rose.
As for Miss Pitter, she sniffed when one of the girls back at the hostel asked how her new place was shaping. “I don’t know what they took me away from my old job for,” she said. “This is a Fred Karno war, if you ask me. And the man I work with is dippy.”
She never mentioned his great big eyes.
Nevertheless, she began to get involved with the card index system. The main thing was, she found it dead accurate. She had thought Charley so wandering, the first few days, that she at once did a check through with the order book. There was not an item wrong. Then, as fresh orders were issued each day through the drawing office and she had to enter up the particulars on the cards, together with the details of what had been delivered, which she took from the advice notes, she began to be more and more frightened she would make a slip. Without knowing, she was becoming enslaved by the system.
Until one afternoon it occurred.
He was on the telephone as usual. He was speaking to Braxtons. She turned the card up, on which she had marked the number of items already delivered.
“Is that your ref. BMO/112?” he asked. “Summers, here, of Meads. It’s in connection with our order number 1528/2/1781. We want those joint rings you promised this week. To go to Coventry.”
He waited. He laughed. “No, we shan’t send you there,” he said. He waited again. He closed his eyes. He always did this when hanging on for an answer.
“What?” he said. “We’ve had ’em?” He looked at her. She was surprised at herself. Her heart had given a great jolt. “Oh no,” she couldn’t help saying. “What date?” he asked into the receiver. “Well thanks, old man, I’ll give you a ring back.”
“September the 10th,” was Charley’s reproach to her.
She went out to search through the files. Of course she’d had a bit of a bust up with Muriel, the night before, at the hostel. But when she found an advice note from Braxtons for the joint rings in question, and saw that she had not initialled it, and, therefore, that she had never seen the thing, and consequently, that Mr Pike, the chief draughtsman, must have kept it back on purpose – when she came into his room again she leaned her head on that beastly green card cabinet, and
He imagined he could see her arms without her noticing, so he was more open with these. But he did not touch.
Her arms built great thighs on her in his mind’s eye, while she might be asking him, “About those needle valves in stainless …”, made her quite ordinary calves into slighter echoes of what he could not see between knee and hip, as she might be saying, “Now those break vacuum cocks …”, but which, so he thought,must be unimaginably full and slender, when she wanted to know where the “accessible traps” came from, white, soft, curving and rounded with the unutterable question, the promise, the flowering of four years imprisonment with four thousand twirps. And he would lift his great brown eyes, and say, “They come from Smiths,” while she wondered, “Are my stockings straight, I wonder?”
It made him ashamed the way he felt about her.
But this was the sole promise there was in being alive. Hopelessly turned over to himself, as well as conscientious to a degree, so careful in his work there were occasions she could have shrieked at the way he wrote, time and again, to the same firm holding them to the last promise they had made, so careful with his words, tactfully nagging, letter after letter, never leaving them alone, so Dot was the only carrot in front of his nose, because he found of an evening, when he got back, that he barely existed, lived in a daze now that Rose was over.
Sometimes he would dream of red-haired fat women. But they were not at all like Rose.
As for Miss Pitter, she sniffed when one of the girls back at the hostel asked how her new place was shaping. “I don’t know what they took me away from my old job for,” she said. “This is a Fred Karno war, if you ask me. And the man I work with is dippy.”
She never mentioned his great big eyes.
Nevertheless, she began to get involved with the card index system. The main thing was, she found it dead accurate. She had thought Charley so wandering, the first few days, that she at once did a check through with the order book. There was not an item wrong. Then, as fresh orders were issued each day through the drawing office and she had to enter up the particulars on the cards, together with the details of what had been delivered, which she took from the advice notes, she began to be more and more frightened she would make a slip. Without knowing, she was becoming enslaved by the system.
Until one afternoon it occurred.
He was on the telephone as usual. He was speaking to Braxtons. She turned the card up, on which she had marked the number of items already delivered.
“Is that your ref. BMO/112?” he asked. “Summers, here, of Meads. It’s in connection with our order number 1528/2/1781. We want those joint rings you promised this week. To go to Coventry.”
He waited. He laughed. “No, we shan’t send you there,” he said. He waited again. He closed his eyes. He always did this when hanging on for an answer.
“What?” he said. “We’ve had ’em?” He looked at her. She was surprised at herself. Her heart had given a great jolt. “Oh no,” she couldn’t help saying. “What date?” he asked into the receiver. “Well thanks, old man, I’ll give you a ring back.”
“September the 10th,” was Charley’s reproach to her.
She went out to search through the files. Of course she’d had a bit of a bust up with Muriel, the night before, at the hostel. But when she found an advice note from Braxtons for the joint rings in question, and saw that she had not initialled it, and, therefore, that she had never seen the thing, and consequently, that Mr Pike, the chief draughtsman, must have kept it back on purpose – when she came into his room again she leaned her head on that beastly green card cabinet, and
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