Mavis Belfrage Read Free Page A

I’ve asked her to stay with us.”
    â€œFor the weekend?”
    â€œFor the foreseeable future.”
    â€œYou want to marry her?” said his father, staring.
    â€œYes but I can’t. She’s married already and she has an eight-year-old son who’ll stay with us too.”
    â€œJesus Christ Almighty Colin! Have you got her into trouble?”
    â€œI have not made her pregnant. I have no practical reason for wanting her.”
    â€œWho is she? What does she do?”
    â€œShe’s called Mavis Belfrage, unemployed at present. She was a student of mine whose grant was cut because she failed her exams.”
    â€œSo she has a practical reason for wanting you?”
    â€œI’ve taken that into account. It doesn’t matter.”
    â€œAn eight-year-old son! She’s no chicken, Colin.”
    â€œI’ve taken that into account.”
    His father, frowning, laid bacon rashers in a frying-pan. Colin lifted his paper and appeared to read.
    â€œListen!” said Mr Kerr a moment later, “when we took this house it was in my mind – and I thought in yours – that one day you’d meet a nice girl, marry, have weans and there would be room for us all here.”
    â€œThat’s right. What are you complaining about?”
    â€œI never thought you’d pick up a family second hand!” said his father, chuckling. “Is it cheaper that way, Colin? Listen son, listen. You can do better for yourself. You don’t need to take damaged goods.”
    Without raising his eyes from the newsprint Colin said quietly, “Keep your sales talk for the shop.”
    There was silence then he heard his father sigh and continue making breakfast. They ate without speaking.
6
    Two days later Colin brought Mavis, her son and three suitcases to Saint Leonard’s Bank and Mr Kerr welcomed them as warmly as Colin had expected.
    â€œCome in come in come in!” he said. “Drop those cases. Here’s where the coats go. The first thing you need in a new home is a nice cup of tea and something to eat.”
    He led them to the living-room.
    â€œWrong, Dad,” said Colin, “the first thing we need is introductions. Mavis and Bill, this is Gordon my father. Gordon this is Mavis Belfrage and Bill Belfrage, her son.”
    â€œI can see why my Colin fell for you,” said Gordon, smiling and shaking Mavis by the hand.
    â€œThank you.”
    â€œHullo Bill Belfrage!” said Gordon, shaking the hand of a thin little boy who looked as unhappy as his mother and kept as close to her as possible. “Look around, Bill, and see if there’s anything here you would like.” Bill looked furtively round the room. So did Mavis. Colin, trying to imagine it through her eyes, wondered if she thought it cheap and vulgar.
    He had chosen the white walls, grey fitted carpet, Scandinavian furniture of blond wood and pale-grey upholstery. Colourful things came from the house where he had been born: curtains with repeat patterns of red-coated horsemen drinking stirrup-cups in the snowy yards of Tudor inns, a standard lamp with shade of scarlet pleated silk, bright brass and china ornaments on the sideboard and low bookcases. Before an electric wallfire stood an Indian brass-topped table set with tea things and a two-tiered stand holding plates of small triangular sandwiches and sweet biscuits. Between two china shepherdesses on the mantelpiece lay a longcardboard box with a 1940 fighter plane depicted on the side. This had held parts of a model Spitfire which, expertly assembled, now lay on top. After a quick glance at this Bill Belfrage looked away from it until Gordon said, “I thought a certain young man liked aeroplanes,” and Mavis muttered, “Go and
look
at it Bill.”
    Bill walked to the fireplace and stood in front of the Spitfire.
    â€œIt’s yours!” said Gordon.
    â€œSay thanks,” hissed Mavis.
    â€œThanks,”