In Pursuit of the English - Doris Lessing [70]
‘What is this case you all keep talking about?’
‘Oh, my Lord!’ said Flo, putting her hand over her mouth. ‘Dan’d kill me if he knew I’d said anything to you.’
‘Now you have, why don’t you tell me.’
‘Oh, don’t ask me. We’ll tell you. Really we will. But don’t ask me. There’s enough trouble with Jack and Dan without Dan’s getting angry with me for opening my mouth when I shouldn’t.’
That evening Rose asserted her rights as a neighbour by saying: ‘I’m going for a walk. And you’re coming, too.’ Her mood had changed. She was aggressive and challenging. ‘We’re going to take a bus, and then we’ll see.’
She got off the bus at the Bayswater Road. It was summer, and it was lined with dusty trees and so thick with prostitutes they stood in groups along the pavements. ‘I don’t like coming here most times,’ said Rose. ‘But tonight I feel different.’ We walked slowly along, and Rose glared angrily into the faces of the waiting girls until she got a defensive stare back.
‘What’s this for?’ I said.
‘They make me sick,’ said Rose. She was trembling with rage.
I tried to turn her off into the Gardens, but she held my arm tight and made me go with her. ‘Dirty beasts,’ she said. ‘Look at them, hanging about, a pound a time, when I think I want to vomit.’ At last she got tired, and turned spontaneously off into the Park. We went to the Round Pond, which was nearly deserted: a few small boys waded along its verges with nets and tins full of tiddlers. It was dusk now; the pond lay in a dull leaden sheet; the trees stood quiet and leafy; and Rose stared into the water and said: ‘Sometimes I think I’ll throw myself in.’
‘Better go down to the river,’ I said. ‘You’ll only hit your had on the bottom here.’
I’m not going to laugh. I don’t feel like it.’ She began walking around the edge, leaving me to follow. She walked right round the pond, until she got back to where she had started.
A policeman came sauntering towards us. ‘There’s a cop,’ said Rose. ‘Well, he needn’t think I’m scared of him now. Can’t they ever leave us alone? I suppose he thinks we’re those dirty beasts. Well. I know about cops now, since that one that’s chasing me, and they’re just like everyone else.’ When the policeman came up and looked keenly into our faces, Rose said, ‘We’re just having a walk, dear,’ and slipped him a shilling. ‘There go my cigarettes again,’ she said, as he remarked: ‘Good night, miss,’ and sauntered off again. We could see him standing in the dark under the great trees, watching us while we made another complete circuit of the pond. ‘Can’t ever leave us alone, can’t ever leave us in peace,’ Rose was muttering. ‘A shilling. Well, Jack can throw a pound away two nights running and what for … did I ever tell you about my Canadian?’ she enquired suddenly, as the policeman, deciding we were harmless, wandered off through the trees. ‘No. Well, I’ll tell you now. I’ve been thinking of him the last few days, thinking about life as you might say. Love, it’s all nonsense. I was really in love with him, too. I thought I’d never get over it when he got himself killed by those Germans, But I did get over it, and so what am I wasting good salt over Dickie for?’
‘What was he like?’
‘He was a sweet boy,’ she drawled, her voice changing. ‘He used to take me out every time I had a free evening from the factory or the blitz. If I said I was busy he’d hang about the house until I’d finished washing and ironing for my mother. Then he’d take me for a walk. He’d even do the ironing for me – can you believe it? – a man doing washing and ironing. He’d come right across London to wash and set my hair for me. He was a hairdresser in Canada. He’d go down on his knees to tie my shoelaces for me. Yes, it’s true. I used to unfasten my shoes sometimes before he came to watch him do it. Well, Dickie may be a bastard, but he’d never go down on his bloody knees to tie my shoes.’
‘You must have been in love.’
‘Oh, if you’re laughing, it’s your mistake. I was, too. I was so miserable when he was killed I committed