“Whatever you like, lad.” He gave the order. “You’re entitled to it, if ever man was. I appreciate your coming here tonight, don’t think that I don’t.”

“I don’t mind,” I said. “I might as well see him now.”

“You’re free to change your mind,” he said. “I’ve been think­ing about it. I’m not sure—”

“What aren’t you sure about?”

He sighed. His sighs were generally deliberate and gusty but this was a sigh despite himself.

“Susan won’t like it. Margaret won’t, either.”

“It isn’t a question of what they like.”

“No, it isn’t. A man’s got to do what he thinks best. But are you sure you want to go through with it? There’s time for you to change your mind.”

There were only four other people in the bar; they were all in Brown’s age group. I knew them all, or knew what they did for a living: timber, flour, textiles, insurance. Timber and Flour were standing at the counter discussing the cost of labour; Textiles at a table on the opposite side of the room was complaining about his garage bills. Insurance was listening patiently, waiting his turn. From the room next door I heard the click of billiard balls and a confused shouting. There would be a thousand other evenings like this, a thousand other evenings listening to people like these. The prosperous middle-aged grumblers, the solid sensible citizens; I would sit in here or in the committee room listening to them; taking great care not to offend them, and, without my realizing it, I would become exactly like them. Waiting my turn to grumble, waiting my turn for thrombosis, waiting my turn for death. And Harry would continue to grow away from me and Barbara, even Barbara, would stop loving me. The world would laugh her out of it; and she’d marry some sleek type like Hethersett, she’d make up no more stories about warm giants, she’d see no more castles at Squirrel Gorge. And Susan would become Susan’s mother. It was all settled; I had taken what I wanted, and now I was paying the first instalment.

“I haven’t changed my mind,” I said. “Unless you have.”

“No, no. One or two in the Club have been a bit – awkward. But no one who matters.”

“I wonder who,” I said.

“Look for those who drink ginger beer and orange squash and you won’t be far out.”

He meant the Nonconformist element; in a place like Warley that gave me a pretty wide field from which to choose.

“I’m not really bothered about that lot,” I said.

“You needn’t be. Just keep your nose clean, that’s all.”

“I never do anything else,” I said.

“You’ve settled down very well, Joe. But watch your step.”