Mavis Belfrage Read Free

murmuring, “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”
    â€œI want you to live with me.”
    â€œO?”
    â€œWill you live with me?”
    â€œWhy not? It will be convenient. I’m terribly short of money.”
    â€œIs that the only reason why you’ll live with me?”
    In a low voice she said, “No, Colin.”
    â€œYou see I’d like us to get married.”
    â€œThere’s too much of that going on nowadays.”
    â€œI’d like it all the same.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI prefer things to be conventional.”
    â€œI’m married already!” she said with a sudden smile of beautiful malicious glee. He shut his eyes for a moment then said, “When did you leave him?”
    â€œYears ago.”
    â€œWas he bad to you?”
    â€œNo, he was nice. I only go for nice men.”
    â€œWhy did you separate?”
    â€œBecause I’m a bit of a bitch.”
    â€œYou’re not a bitch!”
    â€œNice men never believe I’m a bitch.”
    The kettle boiled. He took it to a table by the bed where mugs and a jar of coffee powder stood among food tins and piles of magazines, mostly fashion magazines. While making the coffee something tugged at his mind. All the drawings on the wall showed big aeroplanes bombing tiny houses. He pointed to a heap of aeroplane magazines.
    â€œWhy are you fond of aeroplanes?”
    â€œThese belong to my son,” she said, smiling sweetly.
    â€œHow old is he?”
    â€œEight.”
    â€œBut!” cried Colin excitedly, “that means you’re old! I mean, I’m sorry, older than me.”
    â€œHad you not noticed?” she asked coldly.
    â€œNo! I always think women who attract me are my own age or younger. Where is your son?”
    â€œWith a friend. He usually sleeps here.”
    â€œWhere?” asked Colin looking round the tiny room.
    â€œWith me,” she said taking a cigarette case from under her pillow.
    â€œIs that healthy?”
    â€œI honestly don’t know. Give me that lighter.”
    â€œYou’ve a horrible life Mavis,” he said holding a flame to the tip of her cigarette. She looked at him across it and whispered, “Do you really want me?”
    â€œI
need
you.”
    He removed her cigarette, kissed her then gave it back.
    Then sat on the bed, warming his hands on the coffee mug and thinking hard.
    â€œYou’ll be a lot happier with us,” he said at last. “The lad can have a room of his own.”
    â€œUs?”
    â€œMy father and I. We took a house in Saint Leonard’s Bank when I started at the college.”
    She looked uneasy so he assured her, “We’re buying it through a decent building society. He pays a third and I pay two. I have the bigger salary, you see.”
    â€œWhat does your father do?”
    â€œKeeps a hardware shop.”
    â€œSo your posh accent isn’t inherited.”
    â€œAcquired. I hope you don’t mind.”
    â€œWill … your dad like me?”
    â€œO yes, we never disagree about important things. I’ll tell him tomorrow. But if you’ve no objection I’ll come to bed again because I want to hold you again, just to make sure you’re real.”
5
    At six thirty next morning he returned to Saint Leonard’s Bank, a pleasant lane between a public park and a terrace of neat little Victorian houses with small front gardens. Colin entered his home quietly and quietly washed, shaved and changed his clothes. A morning paper was thrust through the letter-box. He took it to the kitchen and read while waiting for his father
    who entered half an hour later saying, “Aye aye, out all night were we?”
    â€œYes. I must tell you about that.”
    â€œSon,” said his father starting to make breakfast for them, “you don’t need to tell me a thing.”
    â€œBut I must tell you about this. I’ve met someone – a woman I’m keen on.