Ahead of me, interminably stretched the line of cars; people were getting out of them now, looking towards the light that was filling the sky. It was not a light that I’d ever seen before; and it was not a light that I’d see again. This was the end, and even through the closed windows I could hear the voices and now they were screaming, more and more people were dismounting from their cars, they had stopped looking at the light, they were running away from the light, they were running up the hill to­wards me, their mouths wide open; an old fat woman banged at the window of my car, banged again, banged until the window cracked; the smell came in now, unmistakably what it was, a smell like the lion house at the Zoo – horror, helplessness, rage, despair and the fat hand hammering at the cracked window and the poplars lining the road giving no shelter. I moved over to the other door; the handle came off in my hand and I too started to scream, knowing inside the dream that this wasn’t a dream, awa­kening, now knowing the dream was a dream but feeling that I could never disentangle myself from the rug which was bunched up at my throat and, finally, it was afternoon and my eyes were open. Rain on the window, a nap after lunch. Norah was lunching with a visiting comedian at the Ivy today; I had heated a tin of casserole steak for myself and the flat still reeked of it.

I went into the bathroom and lit the geyser: after ten minutes rumbling a brown coloured water began to trickle into the bath. I lit a cigarette and turned my back; if not watched, then within fifteen minutes the trickle would turn into a steady flow; I inspected my face in the mirror which hung from a nail above the washbowl; it seemed more blotchy and more puffy than ever it had been in Warley.

I took off my pyjamas, shivering as the draught from under the door rippled the lino. There were gas fires in the kitchen and the living annexe; but the only heating appliance in the bath­room was a rusty oil lamp which stood by the W.C. I put on my dressing-gown again, grateful for its warmth.