Read Online The Man Whose Dream Came True by Julian Symons - Free Book Online Page A

colonies, and said something deprecating about his name. For a short time he had cherished ideas of becoming a journalist, and had taken a course in shorthand and typing at evening classes. He had found it impossible to get a job on a paper, but these accomplishments had been useful when at times he had been compelled to do secretarial work for private employers. Most of these jobs bored him quickly. Others involved too much work, and in two cases he had been dismissed because the lady of the house made advances which were noticed by her husband. There was something hungry but yearning about Tony’s looks that was especially attractive to women over forty. Such women, he slowly realised, wished to be a mother to him and at the same time wanted him to be a lover to them. There was something vaguely disagreeable about this, but the thought had crossed his mind that he might marry one of these ladies. The proposition, however, had never been a practical one because they always had husbands.
    Easter was over and only half a dozen people were staying at the Seven Seas, a young couple who looked as if they were just married, a husband and wife in their seventies, he wearing a deaf aid and she tottery, a rabbit-faced clergyman whose lips moved ceaselessly perhaps in prayer, and Mrs Harrington. Supper was tomato soup, thinly sliced cold meat and salad, and ice cream. Obviously this was one of the bad days. Widgey appeared only intermittently at meals, and was not present at this one. The food was eaten almost in silence. The young couple whispered to each other as though in church, the clergyman’s lips moved, Mrs Harrington viewed food and company with a fixed smile. Only the deaf old man said, ‘What’s this, then, what’s this?’ as each course came up. ‘Tomato soup…it’s cold meat, dear, mostly ham I think,’ his wife quavered and then powerfully repeated as he turned towards her the deaf aid which made a slight whistling sound.
    Afterwards he signed the visitors’ book firmly, ‘Anthony Bain-Truscott,’ with a fictitious address in London, and went to see Widgey. She sat in an armchair in the parlour reading a romance called Love and Lady Hetty. She put the book down, marking the place carefully.
    ‘Just having my evening cupper. Want one?’ She took the kettle off a small gas ring, got two unmatching cups from a cupboard, made tea, rolled a cigarette and said, ‘Well?’
    The tea was very hot, thick and in some mysterious way very sweet, although she had put in no sugar. ‘How do you mean, Widgey?’
    ‘What’s up? Landing here without even a telegram. What name, by the way?’
    ‘Bain-Truscott.’
    ‘Tony for me.’ She swilled tea round her mouth. False teeth clattered slightly. ‘No need to say anything. Any real trouble, I’d like to know.’
    ‘There’s nothing.’ But he felt an urgent need to talk about the way in which he had been deceived. ‘It was a damned girl.’ He told her about the Fiona who had turned out to be Mary and was indignant when she laughed. The laugh turned into a cough, ash dropped from her cigarette. She drank some more tea, stopped coughing.
    ‘Glad it’s no worse. You ought to settle down.’ He did not answer this. ‘Broke, are you?’
    ‘I’ve got some money.’
    ‘Your father wrote the other day, asked if I’d heard from you. Don’t worry, I won’t tell him you’re here. He’s had an accident, broken his leg, laid up.’
    ‘Let him rot.’
    ‘He’s not my favourite man.’
    ‘He killed mother.’ He wondered why he spoke so fiercely when he had never been close to his mother as he had to his father.
    ‘Sheila killed herself. She was a stupid cow. She should never have married.’ She did not amplify this statement.
    The conversation made him uncomfortable. He said flirtatiously, ‘You ought to marry again, Widgey.’
    ‘Who’d have me? They’d be marrying the Seven Seas. But you should think about it, you’re getting on. Sure you aren’t in