f 1-U^M jud *Th o P?^ usí&K /©. _ /ét^ftJ ŕ /[ í'wew'X tik- J \ G^A^ fames Kelman Busted Scotch 10 the same is here again 12 The Glenchecked Effort 18 The Witness 23 Are you drinking sir? 25 In a betting shop to the rear of Shaftesbury Avenue 28 Where 1 was 35 Extra cup 40 learning the Story 48 Getting there 50 thepaperbag 55 Old Holborn 60 O Jesus, here come the dwarfs 65 Manufactured in Paris 87 The Place! 89 A Nightboilerman's notes 91 The City Slicker and The Barmaid 101 An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding 105 Busted Scotch I had been looking forward to this Friday night for a while. The first wage from the first job in England. The work-mates had assured me they played Brag in this club's casino. It would start when the cabaret ended. Packed full of bodies inside the main hall; rows and rows of men-only drinking pints of bitter and yelling at the strippers. One of the filler acts turned out to be a Scotchman doing this harrylauder thing complete with kilt and trimmings. A terrible disgrace. Keep Right On To The End Of The Road he sang with four hundred and fifty males screaming Get Them Off Jock. Fine if I had been drunk and able to join in on the chants but as it was I was staying sober for the Brag ahead. Give the Scotchman his due but - he stuck it out till the last and turning his back on them all he gave a big boo boopsidoo with the kilt puHed right up and flashing the Y-fronts. Big applause he got as well. The next act on was an Indian Squaw. Later I saw the side door into the casino section opening. I went through. Blackjack was the game until the cabaret finished. I sat down facing a girl of around my own age, she was wearing a black dress cut off the shoulders. Apart from me there were no other punters in the room. Want to start, she asKed. Aye. Might as welt. I took out my wages. BUSTED SCOTCH II O^you're scotch. One of your countrymen was on stase tonight. ^ That a fact She nodded as she prepared to deal. She said. How much are you wanting to bet ' i,!ľ*?eí\l W"W to the wages lying there on the edge of the baize. All of it... Aye. The lot. She covered the bet after counting what I had She dealt the cards. Twist. Bust... the same is here again My teeth are grut What has happened to all my dreams is what I would like to know. Presently I am a physical wreck. If by chance I scratch my head while strolling showers of dandruff reel onto the paved walkway, also hairs of varying length. Tooth decay. I am feart to look into a mirror. I had forgotten about them, my molars; these wee discoloured bones jutting out my gums and lonely, neglected, fighting amongst themselves for each particle of grub I have yet to pick. Jesus. And my feet - and this mayhap is the worst of my plight - my feet stink. The knees blue the hands filthy the nails grimy, uneatable. What I must do is bathe very soon. One certainty: until recently I was living a life; this life is gone, tossed away in the passing. I am washed up. The sickness burbles about in my gut. A pure, physical reaction at last I feel it heaving down there, set to erupt - or maybe just to remain, gagging. It is all a mystery as usual. I am very much afraid I am going off my head. I lie on pavements clawing at myself with this pleasant smile probably on the countenance. I have been this way for years. More than half my life to present has THE SAME IS HERE AGAIN 13 been spent in acquiring things I promptly dispose of. I seldom win at things. It is most odd. Especially my lack of interest But for the smile, its well-being, the way t seem to regard people. It makes me kind of angry. I am unsure about much. Jesus christ. Where am I again. London's the truth though I was reared in Glasgow. In regard to environment: I had plenty. But The weather. The hardtopped hardbacked bench concreted to the concrete patch amidst the grass. My spine against the hardback. My feet stuck out and crossed about the ankles. My testicles tucked between my thighs. I am always amazed that no damage is done them. I have forgotten what has happened to the chopper. The chopper is upright though far from erect It lies against the fly of my breeks. And now uncomfortable. Explanations sicken me. The depression is too real. A perpetual thirst but not for alcohol. Milk I drink when 1 find it Smoking is bad. Maybe I am simply ill. Burping and farting. All sorts of wind. I should have a good meal of stuff. But even the thought Jesus. My hand has been bleeding. I cut it while entering a car. A stereo and one Johnny Cash cassette. My life is haunted by country & western music. I have no cigarette in my gub. And yet this late autumnal daylight The spring in my step. Grinning all the while and wishing for hats to doff to elderly women. I am crying good-evening to folk. I might be in the mood for a game of something. Or a cold shower. When I settle down to consider a future my immediate straits are obliged to be conducive. I am grateful for the clement weather. Facts are to be faced. I am older than I was 14 JAMES KELMAN recently. And I was feart to show my face that same recently. Breakfast is an awful meal. If you dont get your breakfast that's you fucked for the day. I cannot eat a Johnny Cash cassette. Breakfast has always been the one meal I like to think I insist upon. When I have money I eat fine breakfasts. One of ate best I ever had was right here in the heart of old London Town. A long time ago. So good I had to leave a slice of toast for appearances' sake. I was never a non-eater. Could always devour huge quantities of the stuff. Anything at all; greasy fried bread, burnt custard or eggs. Even with the flu or bad hangovers. A plate of soup at 4 in the morning. I cannot understand people scoffing at snails' feet and octopi although to be honest I once lifted a can of peasbrose from a supermarket shelf only to discover I couldnt stomach the bastarn stuff. So: there we are. And also food-poisoning I suppose. If I ever get food-poisoning I would probably not feel like eating. Apart from this But not now. Not presently, and this is odd. My belly may have a form of cramp. Immediately my possessions include money I shall invest in certain essentials as well as the washing of that pair of items which constitute the whole of my wardrobe in the department of feet viz my socks. For my apparel excludes pants and vest. An effect of this was my chopper getting itself caught in the zipping-up process that follows upon the act of pissing. Normally one is prepared for avoiding such occurrences. But this time, being up an alley off one of her majesty's thoroughfares, I was obliged to rush. ZZZIPPP. Jesus. The belly. Even the remembrance. For a couple of moments I performed deep breathing exercises aware that my next act would of necessity be rapid. And this was THE SAME IS HERE AGAIN 15 inducing vague associations of coronary attacks. My whole trunk then became icy cold. UUUNZZZIPP. Freed. It would not have happened had I been wearing pants. If I was being cared for pants would pose no problem, and neither would vests. Vests catch and soak up sweat unless they are made of nylon. In which case the sweat dribbles down your sides and is most damp and irritating. My face looks to be ageing but is fine. A cheery face, k laughs at me from shop windows. The hairs protruding from my nostrils can be mistaken for the top of my moustache. The actual flesh, the cheekbones and red-veined eyeballs, the black patches round the sockets. Every single tiling is fine. I am delighted with the lines. On my left- the right in fact, side of my nose has formed a large yellow head which I squeezed till the matter burst forth. I am still squeezing it because it lives. While squeezing it I am aware of how thin my skin is. I put myself in mind of an undernourished 87 year old. But the skin surrounding the human frame weighs a mere 6 ounces. Although opposed to that is the alsatian dog which leapt up and grabbed my arm; its teeth punctured the sleeve of the garment I was wearing but damage to the flesh was nil. I bathed recently; for a time I lay steeping in the grime, wondering how I would manage out, without this grime returning to the pores in my skin. The method I employed was this: I arose in the standing position. The grime showed on the hairs of my legs though and I had to rinse those legs with cold because the hot had finished. I washed my socks on that occasion. They are of good quality. I sometimes keep them stuffed in the back pockets of my jeans. The presem teto be followed by nothing of account Last night was terrible. All must now be faced. It has much to do with verges and watersheds. 16 JAMES KELMAN Taxis to Blackfriars Bridge for the throwing of oneself off of are out of the question. I have the shivers. Reddish-blue blisters have appeared on the soles of my feet They are no longer bouncing along. I can foresee. Nothing of account will follow. For some time now the futility of certain practices has not been lost on me. I shall sleep with the shivers, the |eans and the jumper, the socks and the corduroy shoes. I can forecast point A or point B: either is familiar. All will depend on X the unknown (which also affords of an either/or). The A and B of X equals the A and B that follow from themselves, not A and not B being unequal to not B and A. And they cannot be crossed as in Yankee Bets. Yet it always has been this way and I atone have the combinations. I was planning on the park tonight. I left a brown paper bag concealed in a hedge near the Serpentine for the purpose. It will have been appropriated by now. The trouble might well be sleep. I had a long one recently and it may well have upset the entire bodily functioning. This belly of mine. I must have slept for 10 hours. Normally I meet forenoons relatively alert Sheltering in an alley the other night, the early hours, in a motionless state. I should have been smoking, had just realized the cigarette hi my gub as not burning where it should have been burning. As I reached for a match I heard movement. Two cats were on the job less than 20 yards distant. The alley banked by high walls. The cats should have been free from spectators and yet here was me, Jesus. In a film I saw recently there was this scruffy dog and a lady dog and he took her out for the night down this back alley THE SAME IS HERE AGAIN 17 to meet his friends and these friends of his were Chefs in an Italian Restaurant, one of whom was named Luigi if I remember correctly. He brought out a table and candlesticks and while the dogs sat down the other friend came out with an enormous quantity of spaghetti and stuff. While they were tucking in out came Luigi again with a stringed instrument and him and his pal began singing an operatic duet This grass grows in a rough patch and cannot have it easy. The blades are grey green and light green; others are yellow but they lie directly on the earth, right on the soil. My feet were there and the insects crawled all around A fine place for games. They go darting through die green blades and are never really satisfied till hitting the yellow ones below. And they dart headlong, set to collide all the time into each other but no. that last-minute body swerve. And that last-minute body swerve appears to unnerve them so that they begin rushing about in circles or halting entirely for an approximate moment I have to clear my head. I need peace peace peace. No thoughts. Nothing. Nothing at all. Here I am as expected. The shoulders drooping; they have been strained recently. Arms hanging, and the fingers. Here: and rubbing my eyes to open them on the same again. Here, the same is here again. What else. The Gfenchecked Effort This jacket had a glencheck pattern and I back centre vent, two side pockets and t out breast welt, two inskle pockets and I in-tick. It was made to fita40" chest and the arms of a 6'4" gentleman. The buttons, two down the front and I on each cuff, were of dimpled leather. Inskle the in-tick were ticket stubs and 4 spent matches; the inside pocket to the right contained a spodess handkerchief of the colour white, having parallel red lines along the border. The left outside pocket held eighteen pence in 2 pence pieces. It was a warm jacket, Handwoven in Harris read the label It hung on a hook from where I lifted it neatly and stepped quickly outside and off. Though hanging loosely upon me it was a fine specimen and would have done much to protect me during the coming harsh winter. It should be stated that previous garments have afforded a more elegant finish but never before had I felt more pleasure than when surveying that person of mine while clad in the glenchecked effort I positioned myself to one corner of a rather quiet square to the right-hand side of Piccadilly looking south i.e. southwest Two males and two females approached, all four of whom were of the Occidental delineation; each pair of eyes was concealed behind medium-sized spectacles with darkened shades. Can you spare a bloke a bobM asked. Pardon... THE GLENCHECKED EFFORT 19 Proffering my right hand in halting fashion I shrugged my shoulders, saying: A bob, can you spare a bloke a bob? They were foreign. They conferred in their own language. At intervals I was obliged to glance to the ground when a gaze was directed towards me. I shuffled my feet Then suddenly a handful of coins was produced and projected towards me. Many thanks, I said, many thanks. I clicked my heels, inclining my head. And off they went Upon depositing the money into the left outside pocket I lowered myself to the pavement; folding my arms I sat on my heels and thus rested for several minutes. A discarded cigarette then appeared in dose proximation to my shoes. Instantly I had collected it I sucked the smoke deep into my lungs, managing to obtain a further three puffs before finally I was forced to chip it away towards the kerb. I reknotted my shoelaces and rose to the favoured standing position. An elderly couple had entered my line of vision, the progress of each being considerable abetted by the instance of two fine Malacca canes. With a brief nod of appreciation I stepped hesitantly forwards. Can you spare a bloke a bobM quoth. With nary a sideways glance they hobbled past me, their canes striking the pavement in most forcible manner. You sir, I cried to a youngish man, can you spare a bloke a bob! What... Across the road I spied two uniformed fellows observing me with studied concentration. Slowly I turned and in a movement, was strolling to the corner, round which I hastened onwards. The skies were appearing to clouden. Yet my immediate prospects I continued to view with great optimism. Choosing a stance athwart a grassy verge I addressed successive pedestrians, but to no avail. A middle-aged couple had paused nearby, viewing my plight with apparent concern. Madam, quoth I, can you... 20 JAMES KELMAN You're a bloody disgrace, she said, that's what you are; giving us a showing up in front of the English. I'm really most dreadfully sorry missis, I gave as my answer, I have been disabled. That's no excuse for scrounging! She turned to her companion: Have you ever seen the like? I've a wife and two weans missis and I can assure you, having flitted down here in search of the new life i had the bad fortune to fall off a roof. And would you look at the state of that jacket he's wearing! he's lifted it from somewhere. I have not. Maybe he's genuine, hazarded her companion. Haha. I am missis, I really am. Oh you are are you! About to retort I inadvertently sneezed. I tugged the handkerchief from my pocket; out popped a membership card to the British Museum. You see, I said as I swabbed at my nostrils, here's my membership card to the British Museum, since my fall I've been embarking on a series of evening classes with a view to securing a light post. I think he's genuine, the man remarked and withdrawing a 50 pence coin from a trouser pocket he handed it to me. You're too soft, cried the woman. Now you're not letting me down' asked the man firmly. Definitely not mister. Thanks a lot. I can assure you that... Not letting you down! Hh! Come on Doreen, he muttered dien taking her by the arm, they continued on towards the very heart of the Oty. But I continued northwards. Soon I was entering the hallowed portals of our splendid literary museum. Moving briskly I proceeded beyond the lines of uniformed worthies at a pace I deemed seemly. Finding a more secluded room I occupied a chair at a table and settled for an THE GLENCHECKED EFFORT 21 indeterminate period. At length a bearded fellow who had been staring intently at the bibliographical pages of an handsomely bound volume, rose quietly and walked off. On the chair adjacent to his own lay an anorak, a plastic container, and a camera. Moments later I was strolling from the room, the camera safely secured in my inside left pocket. Entering a lavatory I continued to stroll, and passed into a vacant cubkle wherein I would remain for a lengthy interval. To occupy myself I examined each pocket and the gap between Harris Tweed and nylon lining, hoping against hope that I might discover other articles. It was not to be. Yet during my time in the cubicle no solitary voice of an excited nature had pierced my repose. There was much to be thankful for. I counted to three then pulled the plug and promptly unsnibbed the cubicle door. With practised eye I glanced to the washbasins before stepping forwards. I washed my hands. In the mirror I surveyed my glencheck jacket with undisguised satisfaction. Just then, as I prepared to dry my hands, an object attracted my attention. It was a knapsack. Slowly I turned, and in a movement, was strolling for the exit, uplifting the knapsack without the slightest check in my stride, and out through the doorway, allowing the door to swing backwards. In an instant I had considered the various uniformed gentlemen, their respective positions and demeanour, and was moving briskly, stepping into the magnificent surroundings of the vast entrance hall, then downwards onto the paved pathway to the iron gates, mingling with diverse individuals. My getaway had been achieved with absurd ease. I was elated. You lucky bastard, I thought, you've knocked it off again! The clouds were forming in puffs of the purest white. Surely a sign! Quickening my pace I crossed Russell Square, marching resolutely to the small grass park some two furlongs distant. While making my way to the rearmost bench my attention was drawn to a tearful urchin whose 22 JAMES KELMAN ball was ensconced on top of a thorny bush. I reached for it and gave it an almighty boot The ball travelled high in the air. 7 patted the little fellow on the head and off he scampered in pursuit. When seated on the bench I sat for a time before examining the contents of the knapsack. But at last the moment had arrived; with a brief glance to the sky I tugged at the zip, and could list the following articles: (i) One pair socks of the colour navy blue (ii) One comb, plastic (iii) One towel (iv) One pair swimming trunks of the colours maroon & white (v) One plastic bag containing: a) cheese sandwich b) lettuce A tomato sandwich c) slice of Madeira cake. I smiled to myself and. withdrawing the camera from my inside left pocket, deposited it at the bottom of the knapsack. As I rose from the bench I chanced to glance at'.., God's fair heaven', and was reminded of these few lines of the lyricist: Tell me - What is die meaning of man, Whence hath he come, whither doth go... Slinging the knapsack over my shoulders with a mischievous grin I walked onwards. The Witness As expected the windows were draped over with offwhite curtains, the body dressed in the navyblue three-piece suit, with the checked bunnet on the head. Drawing a chair close in I sat, smoking. I noticed the eyelids parting. The eyes were grey and white with red veins. The cigarette fell from my fingers. I reached quickly to get it up off the carpet. A movement on the bed. Scuffling noises. The head had turned. The eyes peering toward me. There was not a thing I could say. He was attempting to sit up now. He sat up. I placed a hand of mine on his right forearm, I was trying to restrain him. He wanted to rise. I withdrew my hand and he swivelled until his feet contacted space. I moved back. His feet lowered to the carpet then the rest of his body was up from the bed He stood erect, the shoulders pushed back. The shoes on his feet; the laces were knotted far too tightly. I picked the checked bunnet up from where it was now lying by the pillow and passed it to him, indicating his head. He took it and pulled it on, smoothed down the ok) hair at the sides of his head. I was wanting to know if he was going to the kitchen: he nodded. Although he walked normally to the door he fumbled on the handle. He was irritated by this clumsiness. He made way for me. I could open the door easily. He had to brush past me. The cuff of his right sleeve touched my hand. I watched him. When he 24 JAMES KELMAN got to the kitchen door he did not hesitate and he did not fumble with its handle. The door swung behind him. I heard her voice cry out He was making for her. I gazed through the narrow gap in the doorway. He was struggling with her. He began to strike her about the shoulders, beating her down onto her knees; and she cried, cried softly. This was it. This was the thing. I held my head in both hands. Are you drinking sir? THEY had been seeking me for ages but being a devious old guy I managed to give them the slip on quite a few occasions. They found me in the broo. I was in there performing my song & dance routine, musk from the 1st world war. At first I seemed not to notice them standing in the doorway then when I did I acted as though totally uninterested and my bravado had to be respected, not for its own sake so much as the effect it had on my pursuers. I turned my back on them and performed to those queuing to sign the register. Behind die counter the clerks looked slightly irritated although a couple of the younger brigade were smiling at my antics. But their smiles didnt linger, they continued working as though I wasnt there. I didnt bother at all, just carried on with the performance. Somehow an impression had been gained that no matter how erratically I might behave the clerks would never have me ejected. No doubt the reaction would be different had I become violent, or even explicitly abusive. Then suddenly, towards the end of a song, I lost concentration for a moment and appeared in danger of failing to perceive the course-but then I grinned briefly and continued die game. It was strange to behold. Nearby there were four youths sitting on a bench and they were stamping their feet and cheering and then one of them had flicked a burning cigarette end in 26 JAMES KELMAN my direction. I was dancing so nimbly that I scarcely seemed to interrupt myself while bending to uplift it; I nipped off the burning ash, sticking the remainder of it in an interior pocket of my greatcoat. Then I glanced swiftly at the doorway, whirled to face the counter; onwards I jigged across the floor, wagging my right forefinger at two young girls queuing at enquiries. I proceeded to address the chorus at them, the girls smiling their embarrassment, laughing lightly that they had no money, nor even a cigarette to spare- Yet still I persisted at them and the girls now having to avert their faces from me while I with the beaming smile, cutting my capers as though the doorway had never existed. And thank you sir, I was crying to a smallish fellow who had rolled me a cigarette, thank you sir. This distracting me from the girls and back again I laced the counter; but my sly glance at the doorway was unmistakable and I held the rolled cigarette aloft in my left hand, blatantly displaying it for their benefit And I laughed at no one especially and again cried thank you sir, thank you sir, with both arms aloft now and waggling my hands round and round in preparation for the launch into my final chorus, but just at this point 1 made good my escape, and it wasnt till much later that they found me. I was in a stretch of waste ground near die river. I stared at them when they approached, but the stare expressed only the vaguest curiosity. My head lolled sideways, knocking the unbuttoned epaulette askew. They came forward and prodded my shoulder until my eyelids parted and my groan became a groan of recognition. Thank you sir I muttered thank you sir, and them, stepping back the way as though alarmed. But they werent alarmed, they were angry. And judging by the manner in which my gaze dropped to the ground I was trying to avoid witnessing ft. And then they began talking to me in a language that was foreign. At length they stopped. I withdrew a haHsmoked cigarette from an interior pocket and held it to my mouth until being given a ARE YOU DRINKING SIR? 27 light. I inhaled only once on it, before placing it carefully on the ground; then I picked it up and stubbed it out, smiling in a very steaklt way. I glanced at them and said are you drinking sir' For a moment diere was silence. When they began shouting at me there was an odd sense in which It seemed to have lasted a white but only now become audible. But to none of it did I react I was not smiling, I sat there as though in deep concentration. Eventually there was silence again, and they stared at me with open contempt. It was obvious I was now getting irritated. I looked at them and glared, my eyes twitching at die comers as though I was about to say something but I didnt say anything, I just shook my head and grunted sarcastically; it was being made plain that I coukJnt care less. C^tý"***. C-Sé&^rťo I Agnes Owens ii 1 ii 1 i i j : Arabella 108 Bus Queue 115 Getting Sent For 121 Commemoration Day 129 The Silver Cup 137 Fellow Travellers I4S Mcintyre 154 We Don't Shoot Prisoners on a Sunday 162 A Change of Face 168 !iflpPfflP«|;f^ '■) Biir"Mwiff|iBmi.t-ii i Arabella Arabella pushed the pram up the steep path to her cottage. It was hard going since the four dogs inside were a considerable weight. She admonished one of them which was about to jump out. The dog thought better of it and sat down again. The others were sleeping, covered with her best coat which was a mass of dog hairs; the children, as she preferred to call them, always came first with her. Most of her Social Security and the little extra she earned was spent on them. She was quite satisfied with her diet of black sweet tea and cold sliced porridge kept handy while her children dined on mince, liver and chops. The recent call on her parents had been depressing. Loyal though she was, she had to admit they were poor company nowadays. Her bedridden father had pulled the sheet over his face when she had entered. Her mother had sat bent and tightlipped over the fire, occasionally throwing on a lump of coal, while she tried to interest them in the latest gossip; but they never uttered a word except for die terse question "When are you leaving?" - and the bunch of dandelions she had gathered was straight away flung into the fire. Arabella had tried to make the best of things, giving her father a kiss on his lips before she left, but he was so cold he could have been dead. She had patted her mother on the head, but the response ARABELLA 109 was a spittle which slid down her coat like a fast-moving snail. Back inside her cottage she hung her hat on a peg and looked around with a certain amount of distaste. She had to admit the place was a mess compared to her mother's bare boards, but then her mother had no children to deal with. Attempting to tidy it up she swept a pile of bones and bits of porridge lying on the floor into a pail. Then she flung the contents on to a jungle of weeds outside her door. Good manure, she thought, and didn't she have the loveliest dandelions for miles. "Children," she called. "Come and get your supper." The dogs jumped out of the pram, stretching and yawning nervously. One dragged itself around. It was die youngest and never felt well. Arabella's training methods were rigorous. This had been a difficult one at first, but the disobedience was soon curbed - though now it was always weak and had no appetite. The other three ate snurth/ with stealthy looks at Arabella. Her moods were unpredictable and often violent However, she was tired out now from her chores and decided to rest She lay down on top of a pile of coats on the bed, arranging her long black dress carefully-the dogs had a habit of sniffing up her clothes if given half a chance. Three dogs jumped up beside her and began to lick her face and whine. The one with no appetite abandoned its mince and crawled under the bed. Arabella awoke with a start Her freshened mind realized there was some matter hanging over it to which she must give some thought It was the letter she had received two days previously, which she could not read. Her parents had never seen the necessity for schooling and so far Arabella had managed quite well without it Her reputation as a healer was undisputed and undiminished by the lack of education. In fact she had a regular clientele of respectable gentlemen who called upon her from time to :'0f"- ' mumuM" ■" --,-«''^<«'^^m«w»^«**^!w^^ MO AGNES OWENS time to have their bodies relaxed by a special potion of cow dung, mashed snails or frogs, or whatever dead creature was handy. Strangely enough, she never had female callers. (Though once Nellie Watkins, desperate to get rid of the warts on her neck, had called on her to ask for a cure. Whatever transpired was hearsay, but the immediate outcome of it was that Nellie had poured the potion over Arabella, threatening to háve her Jailed. But she never did. Arabella's power was too strong.) The councillor's son, who had been the caller on the evening after she received the letter, explained that it was from the Sanitary Inspector and more or less stated that if she didn't get rid of her animals and clean her place up she would be put out of her home. Then he changed the subject since he knew it would be out of the question for Arabella to clean anything, that was one thing beyond her powers, saying, "Now we have had our fun get me some water-that is if you use such a commodity, t know soap is not possible" And while Arabella fetched the water lying handy in an empty soup tin on the sink, he took a swallow from a small bottle in his jacket pocket to pull himself together. Arabella did not like the tone of the letter. Plaintively she asked, "What will I do, Murgatroydí" "That's your worry," he replied, as he put on his trousers. "Anyway the smell in this place makes me sick. I don't know what's worse - you or the smell." "Now, now, Murgatroyd," said Arabella reprovingly, pulling a black petticoat over her flabby shoulders, "you know you always feel better after your treatment Don't forget the children's money box on your way out." Hurgatroyd's final advice, before he left, was, "Try your treatment on the Sanitary Inspector when he calls. It might work wonders." After giving this matter a lot of thought and getting nowhere she decided to call on her parents again. They ARABELLA 111 were rather short on advice nowadays, but she still had faith in their wisdom. Her mother was still huddled over the fire and she noticed with vague surprise that her father did not draw the sheet over his lace. Optimistically, she considered that he could be in a good mood. "Mummy. I'm sorry I had no time to bring flowers, but be a dear and tell me the best way to get rid of Sanitary Inspectors." Her mother did not move a muscle, or say a word. "Tell me what to do," wheedled Arabella. "Is it chopped worms with sheep's dropping or rat's liver with bog myrtlesí" Her mother merely threw a lump of coal on to die fire, Then she softened."?"» your father." she replied. Arabella leapt ovei *o the bed and almost upset the stained pail lying beside it. She took hold of her father's hand, which was dangling down loosely. She clasped it to her saggin? breast and was chilled by its icy touch, so she hurriedly hong the hand back on the bed saying, "Daddy darling, what advice can you give your little girl on how to get rid of Sanitary Inspectors?" He regarded her with a hard immovable stare then his hand slid down to dangle again. She looked at him thought* fully and pulled the sheet over his face. "Mummy, I think Daddy is dead." Her mother took out a pipe from her pocket and lit it from die fire with a long taper. After puffing for a few seconds, she said, "Very likely." Arabella realized that the discussion was over. 'Tomorrow (will bring a wreath for Daddy," she promised as she quickly headed for the door. "I have some lovely dandelions in my garden." Back home again, Arabella studied her face in a cracked piece of mirror and decided to give it awash. She moved a Bp»spw^twjufH»WMiffli|y i w^wmwWmiM^^^ >mo