Every day Charles sat at the table in the parlour, encased in a silence that was at once glorious and terrifying. The singularity, the neatness of the ticking clock both comforted and tormented his mind. It was like the tutting of an impatient god, waiting for an answer to a question he had not heard. His daily task was to work through his pack of cigarettes, remembering to put each one to his lips and inhale, rather than letting it burn out against his listless fingers. Outside the world went on. Workers, mothers, widows and the elderly generated a constant parade of souls in the street below. In the morning it was all bustle and go. He heard hurried footsteps, cycle bells, children and their scolding mothers. Even the odd motor car spluttered by now and again. In the afternoon, when the lemonade light filtered through the net curtains, he began to anticipate the return of Kit and Gwen and the tutting clock grew ever louder.
The thing that bothered him, the thing that made his skin itch and his mouth dry, was the women. They were everywhere! And they were different. Now they were the workers,the smokers, the drinkers. Some, like Kit, had their hair all shorn off. They looked like boys! Before the war he had never really heard women from a distance. Now he could hear groups of women coming down the street after their shift, laughing and arguing and calling to each other. So loud! What's more, they stood in groups on street corners, smoking. Just like that, without shame. Of course, they were mostly common girls, but he could see the effect on the girls with breeding, too.
That, he thought, was the effect of Kit upon Gwen. Often Kit came home before Gwen, who had inherited some factory oversight duties from her late father. He hated to be home when Kit came in. She would slam the door and clatter swiftly up the stairs in her factory boots, heading for the bathtub. Her presence was so jarring after the silence of the day that he would usually remove himself from the parlour to the Three Crowns just to be spared the noise. There he would drink cheap whiskey and think about what they were doing. Kit in the bathtub, singing out of tune, scrubbing her yellowy skin. Gwen coming home to the kitchen, scrubbing potatoes and scolding Kit for not helping. He was not inclined to dine with them. Inescapably, he felt an outsider. He stood outside their friendship, outside the household and outside the world. Walking the streets of the city he found he could look no one in the eye. The war
The thing that bothered him, the thing that made his skin itch and his mouth dry, was the women. They were everywhere! And they were different. Now they were the workers,the smokers, the drinkers. Some, like Kit, had their hair all shorn off. They looked like boys! Before the war he had never really heard women from a distance. Now he could hear groups of women coming down the street after their shift, laughing and arguing and calling to each other. So loud! What's more, they stood in groups on street corners, smoking. Just like that, without shame. Of course, they were mostly common girls, but he could see the effect on the girls with breeding, too.
That, he thought, was the effect of Kit upon Gwen. Often Kit came home before Gwen, who had inherited some factory oversight duties from her late father. He hated to be home when Kit came in. She would slam the door and clatter swiftly up the stairs in her factory boots, heading for the bathtub. Her presence was so jarring after the silence of the day that he would usually remove himself from the parlour to the Three Crowns just to be spared the noise. There he would drink cheap whiskey and think about what they were doing. Kit in the bathtub, singing out of tune, scrubbing her yellowy skin. Gwen coming home to the kitchen, scrubbing potatoes and scolding Kit for not helping. He was not inclined to dine with them. Inescapably, he felt an outsider. He stood outside their friendship, outside the household and outside the world. Walking the streets of the city he found he could look no one in the eye. The war
