Strumpet City Read Free Page B

decorations?
    Fitz
    PS. Give my regards to King Ed.
    She folded the note and saw that it was almost half past one by the town hall clock. Fitz would be waiting at the Liffey Wall, where Butt Bridge let the heavy traffic cross from the South Wall into Beresford Place. The sun was now full and warm in the cloudless July sky, so she travelled on the top section of the tram. It was open to the heat and the light. There was hardly anybody else. The trolley sang and rattled in front of her, bucking and sparking when the wires above it crossed at junctions, its great spring stretching and contracting like a concertina. She would be late, but Fitz would not mind. It was over a year now since their first meeting. It had happened at Seapoint too. She had gone down to the strand, passing close to a young man who was sitting on the rocks and who smiled at her. She ignored him. Down at the water’s edge she removed her shoes and began to paddle, holding her skirts away from the water but as little as possible because of the young man. He was watching her. Although there was no one else on the beach the situation did not trouble her. It had been a nice smile. She felt quite sure there was nothing to worry about and that the young man meant nothing more dangerous than gentlemanly admiration. It was nice to be admired from a respectful distance, to feel the water cool about her ankles and look down through it at the wrinkled sand. She paddled for half an hour and was on her way across the sand to fold a spot where she could sit and put on her shoes again when she walked on the shell. It cut deeply into the sole of her foot and when she felt the pain and saw the gush of red blood she cried out and stumbled. Tears clouded her eyes so that when eventually the young man bent over her she felt his presence for quite a while before she could see him clearly.
    ‘That’s a bad gash,’ he said, ‘let me help you.’
    It was embarrassing to sprawl with bare feet on the damp sand under the eyes of a complete stranger. She felt foolish and undignified. But when she rose and tried to walk by herself she was unable.
    ‘Look, I know something about this,’ the young man said.
    She made a rapid appraisal of him. He had a very pleasant face with dark hair and eyes which reflected kindness and concern. It was a good face. Everything was all right.
    ‘You’re very kind,’ she said.
    He drew her arm around his shoulder and put his other arm about her waist. That shocked her for a moment until she realised that it was necessary. He was half lifting her and his grip was firm. She could feel his body against hers. The sensation was pleasant. He released her when they reached the rocks and examined the cut.
    ‘Have you a handkerchief?’ he asked. His own was coloured and they thought it might be dangerous. She produced one which was too small to be of use. He went away some distance and returned with his towel which he tore into strips.
    ‘This’ll do the job,’ he said.
    Mary who found destruction of any kind unbearable, protested.
    ‘Your good towel, it’s a shame.’
    ‘What’s a towel,’ he said carelessly, and went on bandaging. It was a neat job. She found she could get her shoe on.
    ‘That’s wonderful,’ she said.
    He smiled at her.
    ‘I look after the first-aid box and that sort of thing on the job,’ he explained.
    ‘You’re quite an expert.’
    ‘You’d better rest it for a while,’ he said.
    They sat together, silent.
    ‘I’m on shift work in Morgan’s Foundry,’ he said.
    ‘Are you long there?’
    ‘Three years constant. Of course I was casual before that.’
    ‘Casual?’
    ‘You stand at the gate every morning and at eight o’clock the foreman comes out and says “I want you, you, you and you.” ’
    He gave an imitation of the foreman singling out the lucky ones.
    ‘What happens if he doesn’t select you?’
    ‘You drift round to the quays and see if you can get work discharging. If you can’t you go home