Read Online Girl with a Monkey by Thea Astley - Free Book Online Page A

and proper last night,” said Harry with grinning confidence when they met next afternoon at the Custom House bus stop.
    Elsie stared in self-horror at the sunburnt face confronting hers, and, thrillingly repelled, noted its enlarged pores, its coarse jaw-bone and the tiny black lashes spaced so evenly on the lower lids. At the end of the street running right-angled to the river a tug went by, shrilling brazenly into the hot sky. Two boys on scooters swerved each side of them and shouted back cheek. Neither heard.
    â€œYes?” she said. “What do you mean?”—and knew.
    â€œI was over your way about seven, sitting on the pipes there, near Fong’s store. Did half a packet of Cappos, too.”
    â€œWhy?” asked Elsie and really meant it.
    â€œOh”—he did not even look diffident—“I thought you might be pulling one and going out on the side with Connington. But I believe you now. I only wanted to make sure. Saw you going up the back to the lav, too. Don’t miss a trick, do I?” He laughed as he saw her embarrassment. “You’ve got yourself a real jealous fellow, Elsie. Won’t stand any nonsense.”
    He nudged her with an excessive jocularity so that she drew back in an uncontrollable fastidiousness. “How about some flowers, eh? You can give some to Mrs B., too. Butter her up for the next week.”
    Recklessly he strode ahead of her into the tiny florist’s and gave the cool blonde stare for stare.
    â€œHow much are gladioli?”
    The assistant took in with practised eye the vulgarity of his pink shirt and sports trousers with over-wide waist-band.
    â€œTen and six.”
    Harry winced and, turning, pointed to some magnificent spears of white and salmon that were resting in a tub on the floor.
    â€œWell, them then. How much are them?”
    â€œThey’re gladioli. They’re ten and six.”
    He burnt a slow angry red. “Give us ’em,” he said, shoving a pound note across the counter.
    â€œThink a person don’t know what their posh names mean,” he grunted aside to Elsie who, far from being amused at his discomfiture, felt exquisitely for him the foolishness of his blunder. After this she had not the heart to chide him for so frightening her landlady and herself the night before.
    Jon looked upon Elsie’s face with bumbling affection. His code of behaviour, simplified into school-boyish “rights” and “wrongs”, had long ago eliminated imagination from his interpretation of things. Perhaps he could not even be said to interpret, since externals had much the same effect on him as a bell upon Pavlov’s dog. His drinking fell into the category of “wrongs”, but too weak to resist it, he vacillated amiablybetween more definite signposts marked “behaviour to women”, “handling of money”, “behaviour to trollops”, and so on.
    â€œDon’t let’s talk about it,” said Elsie. “I still have six hours to put in, and that is bad enough. Although I know the day must end, I have a nagging little fear inside me that it might stretch out elastically for twice as long. There’s no need, by the way, to worry any further about my bank-book. I found it in my hat-box. I’m terribly sorry.”
    Jon fumbled for his cigarettes and lighter, which worked only after much coaxing; then he blew outwards expansively, laureated by petalling wreaths of grey.
    â€œGood. I was worried about getting that through today. The chief accountant has gone up to Mount Spec for a few days and he’s the only one who would have acted immediately without making a shindy. But how are you fixed for luggage tonight?”
    Elsie examined this aspect of departure and decided that she had more bags than she had bargained for; in addition there was her old brown rain-cape and a pile of books to be picked up at the school.
    â€œI had thought of checking my cases