about those things wherever they build them. It's because concrete is so ugly.'
She looked vaguely offended . 'No matter how much talk there was, there would be no way of finding out. The person would be buried until it didn't matter.'
'I think it would always matter,' he said, and then, afraid that would sound dull and moralising, hurried on, 'I don't think the police ever close the file on an unsolved murder’ What had first occurred to him, however, what he had meant, being serious minded and something of a moralist, was that time had nothing to do with it; it would never stop mattering that a soul had been deprived of life. 'Anyway, there couldn't be a body in all of them,' he explained reasonably. 'It's just like the old days in the country when every tree and hill had a story about a suicide – or a murder come to that. Girls who killed their babies so no one would know. But you come from the country, don't you?' She had the rising inflections and, still, some of the vowels of one of the rural parts of the East Coast.
'From a fishing village,' she said.
'Plenty of superstitions there. It's not any different in the city. People think they're different, but human nature doesn't change . '
'You must have done a lot of travelling to find out so much.'
'No!' He felt that he had let down his guard and she might be laughing at him. 'It's just that I grew up in the country. I haven't travelled much. What chance have I had? I've been with the same firm for almost thirty years – twenty-eight years and, eh, five months to be exact.' She smiled and, realising , he wanted to say to her – you're right; what does it matter, five months, six months? He had always been exact. 'What chance have I had? Clerk, chief clerk. I couldn't have done so well if I'd moved. I began to take the exams – but I had to stop – I was warned about my eyesight. In the end, I was running the place.'
'You've done well,' she said. 'Now you own the business, isn't that right?'
'It's a family firm.' There had been a time when he thought he would get on the board of MacKinlays. 'The father still runs it – he's nearly eighty. I can still see him the way he was on the day he interviewed me for the job. Sometimes I think he's never changed . I changed – and the firm. It got bigger, and I helped.'
'I can see you'd be pleased,' she said, and yawned.
'He has two sons . .. never give your life to a family firm.'
Shamefully, tears prickled in the corners of his eyes. It had been a nasty little scene. 'I can't see what good it will do for you to run after her,' the old man had said angrily. 'It's such a bad time for you to go. I feel let down.' He was glad of the excuse, he thought suddenly; he wanted to get rid of me.
'His older son never liked me.' He stared blankly at the passing street. There was a corner shop, closed and shuttered; and a pub with narrow high-set windows like a fort. He realised they had left the main road behind. 'In that kind of work, the main thing is being able to cost a job properly. That's how you manage to make a profit. When he started, he couldn't do it, no matter how hard he tried. He couldn't get the hang of it. He made a botch of everything. It was me that tidied up after him. If you want a crime, that was my crime . It would have been better for the old man if I'd been his son.' Appalled, he fell silent. 'That was, oh, years ago.'
When they got out of the taxi, it was a street of tenements. The impression was shabby only, not of a slum, nothing degraded. Yet he was disturbed.
'I don't know where we are,' he said. 'My flat's on the first floor. It's nice.' 'What district is this? What street is it?'
'It's quiet here.' She was fumbling in her bag. 'That big place over there belongs to a builder. And here – look – I have to unlock this gate. That's how safe it is.'
The close entrance was shut off by a tall structure of bars. 'What would you do if you forgot the key for the gate?'
She closed it behind
She looked vaguely offended . 'No matter how much talk there was, there would be no way of finding out. The person would be buried until it didn't matter.'
'I think it would always matter,' he said, and then, afraid that would sound dull and moralising, hurried on, 'I don't think the police ever close the file on an unsolved murder’ What had first occurred to him, however, what he had meant, being serious minded and something of a moralist, was that time had nothing to do with it; it would never stop mattering that a soul had been deprived of life. 'Anyway, there couldn't be a body in all of them,' he explained reasonably. 'It's just like the old days in the country when every tree and hill had a story about a suicide – or a murder come to that. Girls who killed their babies so no one would know. But you come from the country, don't you?' She had the rising inflections and, still, some of the vowels of one of the rural parts of the East Coast.
'From a fishing village,' she said.
'Plenty of superstitions there. It's not any different in the city. People think they're different, but human nature doesn't change . '
'You must have done a lot of travelling to find out so much.'
'No!' He felt that he had let down his guard and she might be laughing at him. 'It's just that I grew up in the country. I haven't travelled much. What chance have I had? I've been with the same firm for almost thirty years – twenty-eight years and, eh, five months to be exact.' She smiled and, realising , he wanted to say to her – you're right; what does it matter, five months, six months? He had always been exact. 'What chance have I had? Clerk, chief clerk. I couldn't have done so well if I'd moved. I began to take the exams – but I had to stop – I was warned about my eyesight. In the end, I was running the place.'
'You've done well,' she said. 'Now you own the business, isn't that right?'
'It's a family firm.' There had been a time when he thought he would get on the board of MacKinlays. 'The father still runs it – he's nearly eighty. I can still see him the way he was on the day he interviewed me for the job. Sometimes I think he's never changed . I changed – and the firm. It got bigger, and I helped.'
'I can see you'd be pleased,' she said, and yawned.
'He has two sons . .. never give your life to a family firm.'
Shamefully, tears prickled in the corners of his eyes. It had been a nasty little scene. 'I can't see what good it will do for you to run after her,' the old man had said angrily. 'It's such a bad time for you to go. I feel let down.' He was glad of the excuse, he thought suddenly; he wanted to get rid of me.
'His older son never liked me.' He stared blankly at the passing street. There was a corner shop, closed and shuttered; and a pub with narrow high-set windows like a fort. He realised they had left the main road behind. 'In that kind of work, the main thing is being able to cost a job properly. That's how you manage to make a profit. When he started, he couldn't do it, no matter how hard he tried. He couldn't get the hang of it. He made a botch of everything. It was me that tidied up after him. If you want a crime, that was my crime . It would have been better for the old man if I'd been his son.' Appalled, he fell silent. 'That was, oh, years ago.'
When they got out of the taxi, it was a street of tenements. The impression was shabby only, not of a slum, nothing degraded. Yet he was disturbed.
'I don't know where we are,' he said. 'My flat's on the first floor. It's nice.' 'What district is this? What street is it?'
'It's quiet here.' She was fumbling in her bag. 'That big place over there belongs to a builder. And here – look – I have to unlock this gate. That's how safe it is.'
The close entrance was shut off by a tall structure of bars. 'What would you do if you forgot the key for the gate?'
She closed it behind
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