“Harry feels things very deeply—”

I laughed. “My dear, Harry’s a real little tough. Self-sufficient, hard as nails. Believe me, he’s well able to take care of himself.”

“He’s lucky then,” she said. She swivelled round in her chair to face me and I was taken aback by the pity in her eyes.

16

16

There was rain and a high wind the next morning. As I drove along Market Street to Forest Bridge a curious resignation came over me. I had driven this way thousands of times, past the Town Hall, past Vintrip’s the jewellers, past Finlay’s the tailors, past Ingett’s the florists, past Priestley’s the grocers, past the hundred buildings which made up the street; today I was driving a little more slowly because of the rain, but that was the only difference between yesterday and today.

My wife had been unfaithful to me but there was still the same number of traffic lights to obey; the computer report seemed to have been received with indifference, but I should still have to take the turning to the left past the Christadelphian Chapel. And after a thousand more journeys I should cease consciously to count the journeys or to care whether Mark was invited to my house or whether other men got ahead of me at A. Z. Brown and Co.: after a thousand more journeys there would only be one more. I had never hoped for much from people, except one; and now she was dead. And perhaps she was dead because she was my kind of person, because she should never have relied upon other people for happiness.

I glanced at the Leddersford bus queue. Once, when I had first acquired a car it had been one of my most reliable pleasures to see someone whom I knew there, whether they noticed me or not. Now everyone I knew had a car; it had ceased to be the wonderful glittering symbol it was just after the war. But this morning I was petty enough to look into the faces of the queue for some mark of envy so that I could console myself that even if I were making the same journey as them, at least I was making it in considerably more comfort.

Then I saw the one face that would never know envy, serene and rosy under a blue umbrella. I stopped the car and pushed open the nearside door.

“Going to Leddersford?”

“Into the centre,” Norah said.

“So am I. Hop in before you get any wetter.”

“I’m glad you came by,” she said as she settled down beside me. “But are you sure you’re going into the centre? Brown’s is off Birmingham Road, isn’t it?”