Under the Net Read Free

reference to the sort of books I sometimes translated.
    â€˜Who is this character, anyway?’ I asked her.
    Madge scanned me, watching for the effect. ‘His name,’ she said, ‘is Starfield. You may have heard of him.’ A triumphant look blazed without shame in her eye.
    I hardened my face to make it expressionless. So it was Starfield, Samuel Starfield, Sacred Sammy, the diamond bookmaker. To describe him as a bookie had been a bit picturesque on Finn’s part, although he still had his offices near Piccadilly and his name in lights. Starfield now did a bit of everything in those regions where his tastes and his money could take him : women’s clothes, night clubs, the film business, the restaurant business.
    â€˜I see,’ I said. I wasn’t going to put on a show for Madge. ‘Where did you meet him? I ask this question in a purely sociological spirit.’
    â€˜I don’t know what that means,’ said Madge. ‘If you must know, I met him on a number eleven bus.’ This was clearly a lie. I shook my head over it
    â€˜You’re enlisting for life as a mannequin,’ I said. ‘You’ll have to spend all your time being a symbol of conspicuous wealth.’ And it occurred to me as I said it that it mightn’t be such a bad life at that.
    â€˜Jake, will you get out!’ said Magdalen.
    â€˜Anyhow,’ I said, ‘you aren’t going to live here with Sacred Sam, are you?’
    â€˜We shall need this flat,’ said Magdalen, ‘and I want you out of it now.’
    I thought her answer was evasive. ‘Did you say you were getting married?’ I asked. I began to have the feeling of responsibility again. After all, she had no father, and I felt in loco parentis. It was about the only locus I had left. And it seemed to me, now that I came to think of it, somehow fantastically unlikely that Starfield would marry a girl like Magdalen. Madge would do to hang fur coats on as well as any other female clothes-horse. But she wasn’t flashy, any more than she was rich or famous. She was a nice healthy English girl, as simple and sweet as May Day at Kew. But I imagined Starfield’s tastes as being more exotic and far from matrimonial. ‘ Yes ,’ said Madge with emphasis, still as fresh as cream. ‘And now will you start packing?’ She had a bad conscience, though, I could see from the way she avoided my eye.
    She started fiddling with the bookshelves, saying, ‘I think there are some books of yours here,’ and she took out Murphy and Pierrot Mon Ami.
    â€˜Making room for comrade Starfield,’ I said. ‘Can he read? And by the way, does he know I exist?’
    Well, yes,‘ said Magdalen evasively, ’but I don’t want you to meet. That’s why you must pack up at once. From tomorrow onward Sammy will be here a lot.‘
    â€˜One thing’s certain,’ I said, ‘I can’t move everything in a day. I’ll take some things now, but I’ll have to come back tomorrow.’ I hate being hurried. ‘And don’t forget,’ I added fervently, ‘that the radiogram is mine.’ My thoughts kept reverting to Lloyds Bank Limited.
    â€˜Yes, dear,’ said Madge, ‘but if you come back after today, telephone first, and if it’s a man, ring off.’
    â€˜This disgusts me,’ I said.
    â€˜Yes, dear,’ said Madge. ‘Shall I order a taxi?’
    â€˜No!’ I shouted, leaving the room.
    â€˜If you come back when Sammy’s here,’ Magdalen called after me up the stairs, ‘he’ll break your neck.’

    I took the other suitcase, and packed up my manuscripts in a brown-paper parcel, and left on foot. I needed to think, and I can never think in a taxi for looking at the cash meter. I took a number seventy-three bus, and went to Mrs Tinckham’s. Mrs Tinckham keeps a newspaper shop in the neighbourhood of Charlotte Street.