spring in his step.
‘I’m glad to see you looking happier,’ said his mother when he arrived, though there was more than a hint of suspicion in her eye.
Inwardly laughing at her understatement, Marty dealt her a blithe shrug. ‘No point being miserable, Ma.’ And, with a happy ruffle of his little brother’s hair, he sat to partake of the family meal, his own being consumed in no time.
Still eating, Agnes watched him shrewdly. ‘Would you be in a rush to go out by any chance?’
‘Ah no, I was just famished,’ he replied with an innocent, languorous gaze. ‘Tired too. I think it’ll be an early night tonight.’ He thought of poor Etta, alone and hungry, then turned to his father who was also still eating. ‘Da, would you mind very much if I get down and have a little look at the press before bed?’
Granted permission, he went to sit on a more comfortable chair. It was fortunate that the ‘houses to let’ section was on the first page so that he would not appear to be hunting for something. Having opted for furnished lodgings as he possessed no furniture or artefacts of his own, he sat back to peruse, though it turned out to be an unsatisfying read. Most of the rents were beyond his pocket, for until he was safely wed he still had to pay his dues at home, not just to make things look normal but so as not to deprive his mother. Behind the newspaper, he machinated over how to boost his funds. What if he were to pawn something? In his wardrobe was a decent greatcoat which would be hanging redundant throughout the summer months, along with one or two other items of winter clothing. Maybe combined they would raise enough to secure a property, or at least rooms. His mother did not hold with pawnbrokers, opining that borrowing money was a slippery slope to geton to, not from any high-minded ideal but out of contempt for the interest rates they charged. Whenever his father was out of employment she would work doubly hard herself. Even in the usual course of her day she took on others’ laundry or mending, accepting anything rather than having to resort to money-lenders, so there would be no danger she might need the clothes for this purpose. The only difficulty would be in sneaking them out of the house. He cast his eye again over the column of vacancies, taking mental note of suitable addresses.
Earlier than normal, with a nonchalant yawn he bade others goodnight and went to bed alongside his younger siblings, where he lay for another hour planning his next move and imagining himself with Etta, which took him to the brink of tumescence, at which point he forced himself to think of other things and shortly fell asleep.
In the morning he made a bundle of the coat and other items to be pawned and tied it with a belt. As it transpired, it was not so difficult to smuggle it past his mother. After breakfast, during which he folded some bread and butter and slipped it into his pocket, he simply went back to his room, opened the window and dropped the bundle to the pavement, before hurrying outside to retrieve it as he went off to work. On his way, he called at a pawnbroker’s, one that was not too close to home; it wouldn’t do for Ma to spot his best coat in the window. Having thought of everything, and quite happy with the five shillings raised, he hurried onwards, his keenness not for work but to see his beloved.
It was relatively swift and easy to get to her, for his first act upon arrival was always to go and check the corridors for boots. Today, after collecting a few items in order to feign normality, he tapped on her door using the special knock they had arranged. Within seconds he was inside, the boots were tipped onto the floor and Etta was in his arms.
Relations were even better this morning, for she was wearing a nightdress which revealed every soft curve, her body warm, her black eyes heavy with sleep and looking more seductive than ever. In seconds, without even removing his boots, let alone his
‘I’m glad to see you looking happier,’ said his mother when he arrived, though there was more than a hint of suspicion in her eye.
Inwardly laughing at her understatement, Marty dealt her a blithe shrug. ‘No point being miserable, Ma.’ And, with a happy ruffle of his little brother’s hair, he sat to partake of the family meal, his own being consumed in no time.
Still eating, Agnes watched him shrewdly. ‘Would you be in a rush to go out by any chance?’
‘Ah no, I was just famished,’ he replied with an innocent, languorous gaze. ‘Tired too. I think it’ll be an early night tonight.’ He thought of poor Etta, alone and hungry, then turned to his father who was also still eating. ‘Da, would you mind very much if I get down and have a little look at the press before bed?’
Granted permission, he went to sit on a more comfortable chair. It was fortunate that the ‘houses to let’ section was on the first page so that he would not appear to be hunting for something. Having opted for furnished lodgings as he possessed no furniture or artefacts of his own, he sat back to peruse, though it turned out to be an unsatisfying read. Most of the rents were beyond his pocket, for until he was safely wed he still had to pay his dues at home, not just to make things look normal but so as not to deprive his mother. Behind the newspaper, he machinated over how to boost his funds. What if he were to pawn something? In his wardrobe was a decent greatcoat which would be hanging redundant throughout the summer months, along with one or two other items of winter clothing. Maybe combined they would raise enough to secure a property, or at least rooms. His mother did not hold with pawnbrokers, opining that borrowing money was a slippery slope to geton to, not from any high-minded ideal but out of contempt for the interest rates they charged. Whenever his father was out of employment she would work doubly hard herself. Even in the usual course of her day she took on others’ laundry or mending, accepting anything rather than having to resort to money-lenders, so there would be no danger she might need the clothes for this purpose. The only difficulty would be in sneaking them out of the house. He cast his eye again over the column of vacancies, taking mental note of suitable addresses.
Earlier than normal, with a nonchalant yawn he bade others goodnight and went to bed alongside his younger siblings, where he lay for another hour planning his next move and imagining himself with Etta, which took him to the brink of tumescence, at which point he forced himself to think of other things and shortly fell asleep.
In the morning he made a bundle of the coat and other items to be pawned and tied it with a belt. As it transpired, it was not so difficult to smuggle it past his mother. After breakfast, during which he folded some bread and butter and slipped it into his pocket, he simply went back to his room, opened the window and dropped the bundle to the pavement, before hurrying outside to retrieve it as he went off to work. On his way, he called at a pawnbroker’s, one that was not too close to home; it wouldn’t do for Ma to spot his best coat in the window. Having thought of everything, and quite happy with the five shillings raised, he hurried onwards, his keenness not for work but to see his beloved.
It was relatively swift and easy to get to her, for his first act upon arrival was always to go and check the corridors for boots. Today, after collecting a few items in order to feign normality, he tapped on her door using the special knock they had arranged. Within seconds he was inside, the boots were tipped onto the floor and Etta was in his arms.
Relations were even better this morning, for she was wearing a nightdress which revealed every soft curve, her body warm, her black eyes heavy with sleep and looking more seductive than ever. In seconds, without even removing his boots, let alone his
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