All the Way Home and All the Night Through

by Ted Lewis

  “Yes,” I said. “You’re right. It’s certainly worth thinking about. I must go into it.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t bother about it, Victor,” said Mrs Walker. “I’m sure Alan’s exaggerating the situation. He’s always so serious where money’s concerned. Aren’t you, darling?”

  He smiled, almost, not looking up from his food.

  “This household thrives well because of it,” he said.

  “Yes, Daddy,” said Janet, leaning across the table and putting her hand on his arm. She patted him. Her mother smiled.

  “You see, Alan, how we appreciate you,” said his wife.

  “Well,” he said, “I must go into my study and continue the process of making some more. Excuse me, Victor. I’ll see you later, before you go.”

  “Yes, of course,” I said.

  He got up and left the room.

  “However, Victor,” said Mrs Walker, “can I get anything else for you?”

  “No, no thanks, Mrs Walker. It was terrific. I’ve really had plenty. Thanks.”

  “In that case, if you care to go through into the living area, Janet and I can do the dishes, can’t we Janet?”

  “I suppose so,” said Janet.

  I went through the arch into the big living area. I sat down on the edge of a low chair. I wondered if I ought to light a cigarette. On a table even lower than the present position of my backside was an open box containing about a hundred fat cigs, but I decided to have one of my Park Drives instead. I didn’t like to take one from the box just like that.

  I looked up at a large part of the night which I could see through the picture window. Stars were out. I reflected: how I hate eating food with people I don’t know. It’s such a strain. However good the food is, I never enjoy it because of the strain.

  Janet and her mother came in from what I surmised must have been called the dishes area. Janet sat down in a big armchair near me, but not too near, and her mother took a cigarette from the box on the table. I stood up, taking out my matches to light it for her, but before I had got half-way up out of my seat, Mrs Walker had lit her cigarette with a Ronson table lighter, so I had to begin sitting down almost as soon as I had started getting up, and I didn’t look very elegant doing that, so I blushed and grinned emptily. Janet looked down at her knees. Mrs Walker sat down. She relaxed completely.

  “That’s better,” she said.

  The poodle came in and walked over to Janet. It looked at her then at me.

  “Come on then. Come on then, love. Who’s a beautiful thing, then?” said Janet.

  The animal jumped onto Janet’s lap and blinked round the room in its whiny poodle way.

  “Do your parents keep a dog, Victor?” asked Mrs Walker.

  “No, we don’t have a dog, Mrs Walker. We’re cat people at home.”

  “I can’t stand cats, and I don’t like dogs very much more, but she’s such a funny little bitch I suppose I don’t really mind her. She’s spoiled, and she’s more trouble than she’s worth, but Janet likes her.”

  “Oh, Mummy, you know you love her.”

  “Rubbish. I say that just to keep you happy. You know what you are.”

  “Oh, Mummy.”

  Oh, bloody hell.

  The evening went on. I was glad when it was time to go. Not because of the banal conversation because I find I’m very good at it and quite enjoy it but because I was glad to be getting away from being scrutinized, whatever the verdict.

  We stood in the glassy hall. The night was behind me, through the reflecting transparent wall.

  “Well, Victor, it’s been very nice meeting you,” said Mrs Walker.

  “It was good of you to invite me,” I said.

  “I hope you can come again sometime,” she said.

  “I hope so,” I said.

  I stepped back and found my head in the middle of the long tendrils of some un-nameable plant which flopped sloppily over the side of a hanging bowl. I moved out of the way of them but not before Janet had giggled, making my exit lost forever.

  “How did I go on?” I asked Janet on Monday.

  “Wonderfully. My mother really liked you. I’ve never seen her so nice to anyone. You can imagine what she could be like if she wanted.”

  I swelled with pride.

  “Yes, I can imagine,” I said.” I should think she’d be very cutting if she wanted to be. I liked her very much. She was really intelligent.”

  “She’ll like that.”

  “What did she say?”

  “I ought not to tell you. It will give you a swelled head.”

  “I’ve got one already. Come on, tell me.”

  “Well. She thought you were good looking.”

  “Did she really?”

  “She thought you seemed very intelligent. She told me she thought you were extremely polite and charming.”

  “Good old Mrs Walker. You see, you can’t afford not to go out with me.”

  “As I say, I’ve never known her so complimentary.”

  “I bet you thought I’d never be like that, polite, etc.”

  “It was certainly a little surprising.”

  “I bet it was.”

  “Actually, I felt quite proud of you.”

  She beamed in a parody of pride.

  “So you should. I’m too fabulous for words.”

  We laughed. For the first time since I’d known her, I felt less than uneasy.

  “Janet.”

  Her face turned slightly more toward me. The screen’s reflections lit her face softly. Her expression was still, yet I felt her uncertainty flicker quietly beneath the composed exterior.

  “Janet... I.”

  I turned away and breathed in deeply.

  “What is it?” she asked in a quiet voice. Her expression didn’t change, but I could have sworn I felt a faint movement in her being which was ever so unsurely moving in my direction.

  “Oh, it’s nothing. Doesn’t matter.”

  I kissed her. She moved gently closer. Hesitant fingertips found the nape of my neck.

  Even so, a declaration was too difficult. There was so much to lose.

  Shortly afterward the time came when I asked her to my home. I had known her for two-and-a-half months.

  We arrived at the pier on Saturday morning in time to catch the twelve ten ferry. The day was scattered with light sun. Cold wafer-thin air illuminated and released the hidden blue in every object. A subtle constant breeze ineffectually tried to stir still materials.

  We walked down the gangway onto the pontoon. We crossed that and then descended the gangplank onto the car deck of the ferry. The boat was fairly crowded, mainly with people who had travelled across to the city for a morning’s shopping and who were now homeward bound for dinner and the weekend.

  Janet was wearing a white single-breasted raincoat, belted at the waist, plain and feminine. Her hair was done in its customary pony tail fashion. But somehow her poise, her unaffected elegance belied the fact of her seventeen years and seemed to give her more maturity and presence than other, older women.

  We went to the buffet. We stood at the bar and I ordered two cups of tea.

  “Well,” I said, “here we are.”

  “Yes.”

  “I wonder what you’ll think of it.”

  “I don’t know. I’m looking forward to it.”

  “It’s a lovely day, all right. Couldn’t have been better for it.”

  “It makes me feel alive. I like days like this. I like the hold they have on you.”

  I took a sip of my tea.

  “I’m quite nervous, you know,” I said.

  “Really? Why?”

  “Well, it’s rather like when I went to your place. I want everything to turn out
all right, you know, for you to like it and for you to have a good time.”

  “Perhaps your parents won’t like me.”

  “They’re bound to. No two ways.”

  “They might not.”

  “Be quiet. I know my parents.”

  She smiled. Then her expression changed.

  “Have you brought many girls home with you?”

  “One or two.”

  “Did Hilary come?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you like her then?”

  “You mean when I brought her home? No, not really.”

  “What made you invite her?”

  “I don’t know. My parents didn’t think much of her. Anyway, you know why I went out with her.”

  “Yes.”

  “Look, let’s forget about that. We’re going to have a good time.”

  We walked up Greenfield Road. Flimsy clouds drifted in the cold sky. We drew level with my house.

  “Here we are,” I said.

  “It looks nice.”

  “Not nervous, are you?”

  “Why should I be?”

  I was.

  I rang the bell. I heard my mother’s short footsteps marching up the hall.

  The door opened.

  “Hello, Victor.”

  She had on a smart costume and her hair had been done and set.

  “This is Janet. This is my mother.”

  “Hello, Janet. How nice to meet you. I’ve looked forward to your coming.”

  My mother beamed radiantly.

  “It’s very nice to be able to have come,” said Janet.

  We hung our coats on the hallstand.

  “How are you, beautiful,” I said to my mother. I put my arm round her waist and gave her an exaggerated kiss.

  “Oh, stop it, Victor. He’s a big soft thing, Janet. You probably know that.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve got a cup of tea ready for you; then you can have your meal. I expect you’re ready for a drink.”

  “That’s right, Mother.”

  We went into the kitchen. My mother had laid out the tea things on the table. Janet and I sat down on the kitchen chairs at either side of the table. My mother poured hot water into the tea pot.

  “Well now, how are you Victor? It’s nice to see you.”

  “It’s nice to see you, Mother. Where’s Dad?”

  “He hasn’t come home from work yet. I expect he’s popped in the Sheaf to see Mr Wilson. Mr Wilson and Mr Graves are in the same line Janet. They often meet on Saturdays to discuss business.”

  “More beer than business,” I said.

  My mother finished pouring the tea.

  “How many sugars, Janet?” she asked.

  “One please.”

  “There we are then.”

  She passed the tea round and took her cup and sat on a chair by the kitchen range.

  “Well, there we are.” She took a sip of her tea. “Vic tells me that this is your first visit to this side.”

  “Yes, it is. It looks very nice.”

  “Well, we like it, don’t we Vic, and Mr Graves always did prefer the country. It’s quiet, but it suits us.”

  She beamed from one to the other of us, her slight body perched expectantly on the edge of her chair, her decoratively styled glasses shinily reflecting the bright light from the windows.

  “It’s very nice that you could come, Janet. I like to meet Victor’s friends. You’ve just started at college, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, in September. I’m doing the Intermediate course.”

  “Ah, the same as Victor. How are you finding it?”

  “I don’t think I’m very good.”

  “You don’t know that until you’ve been there at least a year,” I said.

  “But everyone else in the year seems so much better.”

  “You think so, but it isn’t true. I used to think that, but I was a late developer. You find that a lot of people who seem good first off just peter out.”

  “Do you like drawing and painting, Janet?” said my mother.

  “Oh, yes, but I’m beginning to wonder if I will ever be any good.”

  “Oh, Victor used to think that, didn’t you Victor, but he got his Inter, all right. You’ve plenty of time yet.”

  “I hope so.”

  I had never seen my mother take to anyone as quickly as she took to Janet. Every time Janet was looking away from my mother, in some other direction, my mother would steal discreetly admiring glances over the top of her tea cup.

  “Well now,” said my mother, getting up from her chair, “I hope you’re both feeling hungry. I’ve got you a meal laid out in the dining room. You can have it together on your own. I’ll wait for Mr Graves.”

  We went into the dining room. My mother kept popping in and out to see if everything was all right. After we had finished the meal, we took our tea over to the easy chairs by the fire. Janet stood up after a while and walked over to the French windows. Through it she could see the narrow garden sloping away in the shadow of the tall ivy-covered wall until it reached the barn and the gate through into the orchard. The trees were visible behind the barn, wearing the threadbare evidence of the late autumn.

  “What a lovely garden. And the house, it’s so... so alive. Lived in.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “I’m glad. I was afraid you wouldn’t.”

  “I couldn’t possibly not have liked it.”

  “Wait till I show you the rest of the house. We’ve got attics and cellars and all.”

  We finished the tour of the house in the attic. Quiet dust lay undisturbed on iron bedsteads and old framed etchings. The naked floorboards creaked lazily under our feet.

  “Come and look at this,” I said.

  I took her over to the gabled window.

  “How about that for a view?” I said.

  The house, being situated on the beginning of the rise of the wold, commanded a panoramic view of the town, its surrounding countryside, and the river. The window was set into the sloping roof, allowing the viewer a three-sided prospect of the landscape.

  “It’s wonderful.”

  I was close to her in the confined space of the gable.

  “You’re not bad yourself.”

  She carried on looking through the window but I could hear her breathing in acknowledgement of my words. I put my hand on her shoulder.

  “I like you more than you know,” I said.

  She turned and looked at me. My hand stayed on her shoulder.

  “Do you?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  She looked into my eyes.

  She spoke, hesitantly, uncertainly.

  “I think... I think I like you, too. I shouldn’t, perhaps, but I do.”

  “Don’t say anything else,” I said. “You might regret it.”

  “I might.”

  “But thank you for saying what you did. It’s nice to know I’m not completely wasting your time.”

  She didn’t say anything but carried on looking at me in the same way.

  We went downstairs and left the attic to its memories.

  My father drove us to the pier so that Janet wouldn’t have to leave early to catch the train.

  Janet and I stood on the pontoon, a few minutes before the ferry was due to leave.

  “Well, I’ll see you on Monday,” I said.

  “Yes. Tell your parents that I thought they were really charming. They made me feel so at home.”

  “They liked you. I could tell.”

  “Well, I’d better go on board.”

  “Yes, all right.”

&
nbsp; She looked down at her feet and then at me.

  “I can’t remember spending such an enjoyable day.” She looked at her feet again.

  “Can’t you?”

  “No.”

  “Neither can I.”

  She looked up at me again.

  “Thank you very much,” she said.

  “No,” I said. “Thank you.”

  “Good-bye,” she said.

  “Good-bye,” I said.

  “I’ll see you on Monday,” I called as she walked onto the ferry.

  We drove home along dark country roads.

  “What did you think of Janet,” I asked, lighting my cigarette and passing the match to my father.

  “Oh yes, very nice girl. Your mother and I were quite taken with her. What do you think of her?”

  “I think she’s very nice.”

  “She’s worth respect. You don’t need me to tell you that.”

  “No.”

  We drove along in silence for a while.

  “She’s certainly the nicest girl you’ve ever known.”

  More silence.

  “You want to treat her as she deserves. With respect. She’s one of the clean kind. They’re few and far between.”

  “I know.”

  “You’d have to go a long way to meet someone as nice as that. I mean, I’m only going on first impressions, but I don’t think there’s any mistaking in this case.”

  We were almost home.

  “I’m glad you liked her,” I said.

  We drew up outside the house.

  “You must have liked her,” I said.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I’ve never heard you wax that enthusiastic before.”

  “No, well. There’s a time and a place.”

  He pulled on the handbrake. He smiled his Victorian villain smile.

  “A few years younger and I’d have fancied her myself. You’d have had to look out.”

  “Get on. That would be the day.”

  We collected my mother and went to the Wheatsheaf. We sat at a table on our own and discussed my future, my plans, my chances.

  Once, when my father went out to the toilet, my mother said: