A Start in Life Read Free Page B

disappointed), I nevertheless saw that there was more to books than reading about sex and gangsters. I had always been unsatisfied by these two subjects, because the sex seemed unreal and always had to be paid for in some grisly way, and the gangsters were all rotten and made of cardboard and so got what they deserved at the first punch of the law. I can see how innocent I was, and though this may be usual in any ordinary youth it was no great advantage if you were a bastard. While labouring under my pleasurable education of reading, I began to see that all was not well with the life I had chosen to lead, because it was life itself that had chosen to lead me a dance that. I did not want. To put it bluntly, I was fed up with work, with home, and with living the way I did.
    I was eighteen by the time this slow fuse started burning, as if my litmus toes had been touched off and were smoking slowly up to my heart. When Mother asked what was up I said the sky, and grabbed my coat to go, before she could begin her carpet-bombing about how useless and dead stupid I was. She would have been right, and I couldn’t stand that, so the only thing left was to wander up Norton Street and see if Alfie Bottesford was back yet from the foundry office he worked at.
    It was mid-week but he unlatched the door wearing a collar and tie, creased trousers, smart coat, and an extra polish to his glasses. ‘Are you in?’ I asked.
    â€˜I might be,’ he said, ‘but my girl is here.’
    â€˜That’s all right,’ I said, edging closer.
    He opened wider: ‘Come in, then,’ whispering in the scullery: ‘Her name’s Claudine, and we’re going steady.’
    I boggled at this, and he introduced me (as he called it: I’d never been ‘introduced’ before) in the proper way, meaning he allowed us to shake hands, which was his first and last mistake. ‘This is my girlfriend, Claudine Forks,’ he said. ‘Claudine, this is an old friend of mine, Michael Cullen.’
    She sat back in an armchair by the fire, and I tried to catch her eye and give her the wink while Alfie was turning the record over on his gramophone. She had a small mouth and big breasts, and as she sat back I could see halfway up her thin legs.
    There wasn’t much of a welcome for me from either her or Alfie, and I supposed that his mother was out, and that they’d expected a frolic all to themselves before she came back. I wanted to spoil their fun, if not take it over, and when Alfie went into the kitchen to make a cup of tea, which he saw as the quickest way of getting me to go, I concentrated my gaze on his sweetheart, till she stood up and looked along the mantelshelf for a cigarette.
    â€˜I’ve got some,’ I said, flashing them under her nose. ‘Make us a sandwich while you’re at it,’ I called to Alfie. Before she put the fag to her mouth I kissed her, and pulled her into my chest. She struggled, but seemed well practised at making no noise. ‘If you say owt,’ I whispered, ‘I’ll say you kissed me first.’ Her eyes were like octopus lamps at this prime mischief, so I kissed her again and pressed her so that I could feel all she’d got.
    I struck a match and lit her fag, and Alfie fried under his jealousy when he saw us so close. It baffled him, but Claudine took his arm and kissed him to prove that all was well, and encouraged by this he pulled her on to his knee and kept her until the red kettle on the gas stove whistled half-time and made him ease her off and rush into the scullery.
    It was my turn and I lost no time about it. I sucked her mouth and closed those heavy eyes, my leg forcing hers apart so that she breathed hard and I thought I’d got her on my hands for life, until I remembered Alfie in the kitchen, at which I put my hand down and almost into her drawers.
    She hissed like a snake and pushed me away. ‘You dirty