oots and school…fees goes on and on。 it’s a kind of game with hilda。
we moved to west bletchley in ‘29 and started buying the house in ellesmere road the next year； a little before billy was born。 after i was made an inspector i was more away from home and had more opportunities with other women。 of course i was unfaithful— i won’t say all the time； but as often as i got the chance。 curiously enough； hilda was jealous。 in a way； considering how little that kind of thing means to her； i wouldn’t have expected her to mind。 and like all jealous women she’ll sometimes show a cunning you wouldn’t think her capable of。 sometimes the way she’s caught me out would have made me believe in telepathy； if it wasn’t that she’s often been equally suspicious when i didn’t happen to be guilty。 i’m more or less permanently under suspicion； though； god knows； in the last few years—the last five years； anyway—i’ve been innocent enough。 you have to be； when you’re as fat as i am。
taking it by and large； i suppose hilda and i don’t get on worse than about half the couples in ellesmere road。 there’ve been times when i’ve thought of separation or divorce； but in our walk of life you don’t do those things。 you can’t afford to。 and then time goes on； and you kind of give up struggling。 when you’ve lived with a woman for fifteen years； it’s difficult to imagine life without her。 she’s part of the order of things。 i dare say you might find things to object to in the sun and the moon； but do you really want to change them？ besides； there were the kids。 kids are a ‘link’； as they say。 or a ‘tie’。 not to say a ball and fetter。
of late years hilda has made two great friends called mrs wheeler and miss minns。 mrs wheeler is a widow； and i gather she’s got very bitter ideas about the male sex。 i can feel her kind of quivering with disapproval if i so much as e into the room。 she’s a faded little woman and gives you a curious impression that she’s the same colour all over； a kind of greyish dust…colour； but she’s full of energy。 she’s a bad influence on hilda； because she’s got the same passion for ‘saving’ and ‘making things do’； though in a slightly different form。 with her it takes the form of thinking that you can have a good time without paying for it。 she’s for ever nosing out bargains and amusements that don’t cost money。 with people like that it doesn’t matter a damn whether they want a thing or not； it’s merely a question of whether they can get it on the cheap。 when the big shops have their remnant sales mrs wheeler’s always at the head of the queue； and it’s her greatest pride； after a day’s hard fighting round the counter； to e out without having bought anything。 miss minns is quite a different sort。 she’s really a sad case； poor miss minns。 she’s a tall thin woman of about thirty…eight； with black patent…leather hair and a very good； trusting kind of face。 she lives on some kind of tiny fixed ine； an annuity or something； and i fancy she’s a left… over from the old society of west bletchley； when it was a little country town； before the suburb grew up。 it’s written all over her that her father was a clergyman and sat on her pretty heavily while he lived。 they’re a special by…product of the middle classes； these women who turn into withered bags before they even manage to escape from home。 poor old miss minns； for all her wrinkles； still looks exactly like a child。 it’s still a tremendous adventure to her not to go to church。 she’s always burbling about ‘modern progress’ and ‘the woman’s movement’； and she’s got a vague yearning to do something she calls ‘developing her mind’； only she doesn’t quite know how to start。 i think in the beginning she cottoned on to hilda and mrs wheeler out of pure loneliness； but now they take her with them wherever they go。
and the times they’ve had together； those three！ sometimes i’ve almost envied them。 mrs wheeler is the leading spirit。 you couldn’t name a kind of idiocy that she hasn’t dragged them into at one time or another。 anything from theosophy to cat’s…cradle； provided you can do it on the cheap。 for months they went in for the food…crank business。 mrs wheeler had picked up a second…hand copy of some book called radiant energy which proved that you should live on lettuces and other things that don’t cost money。 of course this appealed to hilda； who immediately began starving herself。 she’d have tried it on me and the kids as well； only i put my foot down。 then they had a go at faith…healing。 then they thought of tackling pelmanism； but after a lot of correspondence they found that they couldn’t get the booklets free； which had been mrs wheeler’s idea。 then it was hay…box cookery。 then it was some filthy stuff called bee wine； which was supposed to cost nothing at all because you made it out of water。 they dropped that after they’d read an article in the paper saying that bee wine gives you cancer。 then they nearly joined one of those women’s clubs which go for conducted tours round factories； but after a lot of arithmetic mrs wheeler decided that the free teas the factories gave you didn’t quite equal the subscription。 then mrs wheeler scraped acquaintance with somebody who gave away free tickets for plays produced by some stage society or other。 i’ve known the three of them sit for hours listening to some highbrow play of which they didn’t even pretend to understand a word—couldn’t even tell you the name of the play afterwards—but they felt that they were getting something for nothing。 once they even took up spiritualism。 mrs wheeler had run across some down…and…out medium who was so desperate that he’d give seances for eighteenpence； so that the three of them could have a glimpse beyond the veil for a tanner a time。 i saw him once when he came to give a seance at our house。 he was a seedy…looking old devil and obviously in mortal terror of d。t。s。 he was so shaky that when he was taking his overcoat off in the hall he had a sort of spasm and a hank of butter…muslin dropped out of his trouser…leg。 i managed to shove it back to him before the women saw。 butter…muslin is what they make the ectoplasm with； so i’m told。 i suppose he was going on to another seance afterwards。 you don’t get manifestations for eighteen pence。 mrs wheeler’s biggest find of the last few years is the left book club。 i think it was in ‘36 that the news of the left book club got to west bletchley。 i joined it soon afterwards； and it’s almost the only time i can remember spending money without hilda protesting。 she can see some sense in buying a book when you’re getting it for a third of its proper price。 these women’s attitude is curious； really。 miss minns certainly had a try at reading one or two of the books； but this wouldn’t even have occurred to the other two。 they’ve never had any direct connexion with the left book club or any notion what it’s all about—in fact i believe at the beginning mrs wheeler thought it had something to do with books which had been left in railway carriages and were being sold off cheap。 but they do know that it means seven and sixpenny books for half a crown； and so they’re always saying that it’s ‘such a good idea’。 now and again the local left book club branch holds meetings and gets people down to speak； and mrs wheeler always takes the others along。 she’s a great one for public meetings of any kind； always provided that it’s indoors and admission free。 the three of them sit there like lumps of pudding。 they don’t know what the meeting’s about and they don’t care； but they’ve got a vague feeling； especially miss minns； that they’re improving their minds； and it isn’t costing them anything。
well； that’s hilda。 you see what she’s like。 take it by and large； i suppose she’s no worse than i am。 sometimes when we were first married i felt i’d like to strangle her； but later i got so that i didn’t care。 and then i got fat and settled down。 it must have been in 1930 that i got fat。 it happened so suddenly that it was as if a cannon ball had hit me and got stuck inside。 you know how it is。 one night you go to bed； still feeling more or less young； with an eye for the girls and so forth； and next morning you wake up in the full consciousness that you’re just a poor old fatty with nothing ahead of you this side the grave except sweating your guts out to buy boots for the kids。
and now it’s ‘38； and in every shipyard in the world they’re riveting up the battleships for another war； and a name i chanced to see on a poster had stirred up in me a whole lot of stuff which ought to have been buried god knows how many years ago。
/d/
PART Ⅲ…1
×××小×说×网
when i came home that evening i was still in doubt as to what i’d spend my seventeen quid on。
hilda said she was going to the left book club meeting。 it seemed that there was a chap ing down from london to lecture； though needless to say hilda didn’t know what the lecture was going to be about。 i told her i’d go with her。 in a general way i’m not much of a one for lectures； but the visions of war i’d had that morning； starting with the bomber flying over the train； had put me into a kind of thoughtful mood。 after the usu