Alfie Read online

  Now it’s not only when I’m with this little fat bird but it’s the same with every bird I’m with. I keep getting these thoughts about Malcolm coming into my mind. I remember our Sunday morning walks and things like that. I find I’m having birds round at my gaff staying the night, even though I never have been for all-night sessions. For one thing I can never find another bird who can fall into my rhythm of sleeping. Gilda was quite good at it. She seemed hardly to breathe or stir when I was beside her. She’d turn when I turned, stretch when I stretched and sleep when I slept. I liked lying like spoons with her arms round me, her turn against my behind. And of course she never smoked, and nearly every other bird seems to smoke these days, and to be quite frank I don’t like the smell of a bird’s breath if it’s been smoking. The things you overlook in love can come out very sharp during the night, if you see what I mean. Smells, sweat, and wrinkles and whatnot seem to come out in some birds overnight.

  And so night after night I find I’m lying there in the dark staring up at the ceiling or looking to the window and thinking about little Malcolm. Or rather I keep imagining him. And beside me some bird is snoring away without a thought in the world, and I feel like telling her to get up and get out. Except I don’t like it all that much when I’m left alone.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ‘Good morning,’ she said. ‘What’s the name please?’

  ‘Mr Elkins,’ I said.

  ‘Do sit down, Mr Elkins,’ she said.

  I’m in this Chest Clinic place, see, and there’s this woman doctor sitting at a table looking at notes. She can’t be much more than thirty, but she looks older, wears specs and got her hair pulled back tight from the forehead. On first sight it struck me she might be a bit bent, but then I could see it was probably just that she’d never been between the sheets with a man. In fact, the thought crossed my mind that with regular loving and caressing – it’s a must is caressing for that type of woman – she’d soften up beautiful.

  ‘Did your own doctor tell you why we sent for you?’ she said.

  ‘Ain’t it something to do with that mass X-ray that I had done down at Wimbledon which didn’t come out right on the negative?’ I said.

  ‘Yes, that’s it,’ she said. ‘We thought we’d have you in and check up.’

  ‘Will you be very long?’ I said.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘Why?’

  ‘I have an appointment at eleven-thirty,’ I said.

  The fact was I’d got a nice little job driving a party of licensed victuallers down to Brighton for the races. I said I’d pick them up at a quarter to twelve. I didn’t want to be late because there’d be plenty of dropsy if I played my cards right. Mean as can be behind a bar, they’re very generous off duty. I mean I don’t believe in letting my mind get soaked with thoughts about a bird I’ve finished with. There’s a real waste of time, if you like. What I always say is, get out and enjoy yourself. Enjoy yourself. She came across with a thermometer in her hand and put in into my mouth.

  ‘Under the tongue,’ she said. Then she got hold of my wrist and started taking my pulse or something. She looked at her watch then looked very closely at me.

  What got me was the way she said it, I don’t love him but I do respect him. Same as I say, I don’t want any bird’s respect. I wouldn’t know what to do with it. I mean it’s time enough for that when they’ve nothing else to give, if you see what I mean. After all, she’s told me time and time again she loves me, loves me for myself, whatever that might mean. But I ain’t ever told her I love her except at those times when you’ve got to say something just for appearance’s sake.

  She took the thermometer out of my mouth, wiped it very carefully with a piece of cotton wool, had a look at it, then put it into a jar of some stuff on the table and flung the cotton wool into a basket under the table. Here, that’s a funny thing about love, the way it has of going off, like yesterday’s milk, I mean if it’s not kept at the right temperature.

  ‘How did you get here?’ she said.

  ‘I walked here,’ I said.

  ‘Did you feel tired after it?’ she said.

  ‘Tired!’ I said, ‘it’s only ten minutes’ walk. No, I didn’t feel tired.’ Then I said: ‘I’d have come in my car only there’s no proper parking.’

  ‘Have you lost any weight recently?’ she said.

  ‘My weight never varies,’ I said, ‘I’m always the same, eleven-six. It’s the weight I’ve been for years.’

  ‘Would you take off your jacket and step on the scales, please,’ she said.

  I took it off and put it on the back of the chair and then I stood on these scales, and she began moving the sliding things about. I mean I’ve always stuck to my side of the bargain with Gilda, but a bird will never stick to its side. A bird will only do what its feelings tell it to do. It won’t take any account of what’s been said and done. And once a bird turns you’ve had it, you’re out in the bleeding cold.

  ‘Ten stone, nine pounds,’ she said.

  ‘Get off!’ I said. ‘Are you sure these scales is right? I can’t believe it!’ I felt at my waistband. My trousers did feel on the loose side. ‘Course, you’ve got to take into account this suit, I mean these trousers don’t weigh nothing. It’s a ten-ounce mohair and worsted.’

  ‘Would you take your shirt off please,’ she said.

  Now there’s one thing I never do with a woman, I never crawl to one. They’ve got to take me as I am or not at all, if you see what I mean. I took my tie off, well just loosened it, see, and pulled it over my head. I mean if you keep knotting and unknotting a tie you’ll get creases all over the place. The best thing is to get a good knot and stick to it, just loosen it see and pull it over your head and hang it up on the back of a chair or something. Then I took my shirt off.

  ‘You look brown, Mr Elkins,’ she said, looking me up and down.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I’ve had one or two afternoons over at the Oasis at the top of Shaftesbury Avenue there. It’s quite a good eighteen pennyworth once you get inside.’ It was, too, you get ’em all shapes and sizes.

  ‘I shouldn’t do too much sunbathing if I were you,’ she said.

  What a thing to tell you in this country, I thought, and what a load of red tape! They only want to do you out of your share of the sunshine, what bit there is. I could see her staring at my chest and that. Now, I’m not a muscle man, not even got a big chest or anything like that, I’ve got more of a bony frame which don’t seem to have changed much since I was a lad. Now it’s funny but women seem to go for that sort of thing. They don’t go for these great big hunks of beefcake as they call it, they like a bloke like me that they can take into their arms. Leastways that’s the way it’s always struck me. They like the contrast – hard and soft.

  ‘Do you perspire,’ she said. ‘I mean, do you sweat much?’

  ‘Sweat,’ I said. ‘No, I’m not really a sweaty type. Come to think of it, I did sweat a lot last Sunday afternoon at the Locarno, but I was dancing and I’d had a few beers, so I suppose anybody would sweat under those conditions.’

  There’s a real dream I used to know called Kenny, bent as can be, used to hang about transport cafes, absolutely gone on drivers he was, went in for trunkers mostly, long-distance men, see, wouldn’t touch the blokes on local runs, and one time he saw me with my shirt off – but my trousers on – I’d been having half an hour’s kip in the sunshine, lying on top of my load, and this Kenny looked at me and said, ‘Alfie, that body of yours would pull any bint. It’s so appealing, so lean but so substantial. It’s making me go funny at the knees.’ So there you are, if you can take the word of a brown hatter – and I don’t see why not.

  She kept looking at me with those big brown eyes of hers, so innocent like, that I found myself keeping on talking. ‘I’d say I sweat like any other bloke in the normal way. Of course I use a deodorant under my armpits. You just rub it on, quite good they are.’

  ‘And do you ever sweat at nights?’ she said.<
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  ‘I should think nearly everybody sweats at night one way or another,’ I said. ‘Do you mean in bed?’

  ‘Yes, in bed,’ she said.

  I remembered getting all lathered up that night with young Clare, but I didn’t mention that because I didn’t feel it came into it.

  ‘Some nights you go to bed cool,’ I said, ‘and if the weather comes over hot in the night you naturally start to sweat a bit. Of late I do find myself throwing off the eiderdown.’ In fact it’s an old topcoat, officer’s, but she’s not to know that, is she—?

  She got me down on this chair and put this stethoscope thing on her ears and began tapping my back and chest.

  ‘Take a deep breath,’ she said. ‘Now breathe out slowly.’

  Did I tell you about this letter I got from her, saying that she’s only decided to marry this geezer Humphrey?

  ‘Say ninety-nine.’

  ‘Ninety-nine.’

  Me and Malcolm will be all right because then I shall be able to stay at home and look after him, she writes.

  ‘Again—’

  ‘Ninety-nine.’

  But what about you Alfie, what will you do? Won’t you miss us? Know what! – I came over dead choked when I read that bit in her round writing. Fancy her thinking of me like that! Of course, I managed before I ever met Gilda and I’ll manage after she’s gone.

  ‘Do you ever feel any pain in your back?’ this doctor said.

  ‘Pain,’ I said, ‘pain?’ There are times when you’ve got a pain and you don’t know you’ve got it till it stops, if you see what I mean. Pain’s a funny thing. You can have a pain in your heart and it can make you dead sick, but you can have a pain in your back and not know it’s there. ‘No, I’ve got no pain,’ I said. She went on tapping away at my back. She had quite nice hands, on the stubby side, but they’re sensitive. ‘Funny,’ I said, ‘but I believe I’ve a pain there now. Seems like I just felt it this minute.’

  ‘Where?’ she said. ‘There?’ She sounded quite pleased.

  ‘A bit over to the left,’ I said, ‘a bit higher up.’ She tapped me a couple more times and I let out a wince. ‘There!’ I said. ‘Yes, there,’ I said.

  ‘Is it tender?’ she said.

  ‘It is when you prod and mess it about,’ I said. ‘It ain’t too bad when it’s left alone.’

  She came round front and started sounding my chest. ‘Do you cough much?’ she said.

  ‘I cough of a morning, I said, ‘but then everybody does after that first cigarette.’ I find I’m missing her, so after that letter I stick it out until the weekend afterwards comes round and then I go and visit her.

  ‘Do you bring anything up when you cough?’

  ‘Up? No, not much, just clear my chest, see. Well that’s the point of coughing, ain’t it, to bring something up and give the tubes a good clearing out.’

  ‘Breathe in deeply again,’ she said, ‘and hold it this time.’ I took a deep breath and held it. Know what? She doesn’t want to let me in. I had to knock, of course, because I’d given her my key back. She kept me at the door but little Malcolm was inside and he heard.

  ‘Let it out slowly,’ she said. I was nearly bursting so I just blew it out. She was in front of me and it went into her face, so she just put her finger up and put it against my nose and pressed my head to one side.

  ‘What’s up?’ I said.

  ‘Will you please keep your head turned away from me,’ she said, ‘as you’re breathing out.’

  You think you know a woman, but you don’t. A man can never know any woman. ‘Keep your head turned away from me as you’re breathing out’! Not a nice stroke to come out with at a chest clinic. Anyway, same as I say, little Malcolm heard me so he came running to the door. He’s not going to see his own Dad turned away, so she had to let me in. Know what, she wouldn’t let me touch her. She drew back she did. After all those nights we’d had together.

  ‘Breathe in again, Mr Elkins. A good one this time.’

  They’re all bleeding good ones, I thought. I took a deep breath.

  ‘Breathe out slowly,’ she said.

  I gave a sharp turn of my head right away this time, and blew my breath towards the far wall. I can let a woman see when she’s hurt my feelings. Now that’s a thing I’ve never done – refused a bird. Not if I was on my death-bed.

  ‘Say ninety-nine.’

  ‘Ninety-nine.’

  ‘Ninety-nine …’

  ‘One hundred.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Eh? Oh, sorry – I wasn’t thinking. Ninety-nine.’

  ‘Breathe in once more. Good. Now breathe out slowly.’

  I’ve had my share of ugly birds. Some of ’em getting on in years – some right old boilers you might say, but I never said no, if you see what I mean. And it hasn’t always been easy. Yes, I’ve got my code of honour and I’ve always stuck by it – but a bird don’t know the meaning of the word. Sorry, Alfie, she says, but I’m going to play fair by Humphrey, the same as I always played fair by you. Played fair by me! Why, she never wanted any other bloke when she had me so what playing fair was there in that? She was making a virtue out of her own natural inclinations. And her and this nit Humphrey have got together and gone and taken my little son away from me.

  ‘How do you feel, Mr Elkins?’

  ‘Never felt better in all my life.’ So I put young Malcolm down and I go off. I’ve got my pride, ain’t I? ‘I mean, I felt good when I was walking here in the sunshine this morning – my mind was on Brighton races – I’ve got to drive a party down before lunch, see, but come to think of it, I do feel a bit duff this minute.’ Of course young Malcolm begins yelling ‘Daddy!’ after me. He wouldn’t stop yelling ‘Daddy’.

  ‘Have you been worrying about anything lately?’

  ‘Who, me? worry? I ain’t the worrying sort. You must be able to see that.’ Fancy asking me a question like that. I’m wearing this lovely suit, she’s seen the Swiss nylon shirt, and I’ve told her I’ve got a car, so why should I worry. Know what, there are times when I imagine I can still hear him calling ‘Daddy’ after me. I think it must be your thoughts that make sounds in your ear. ‘Well, we’ve all got some worry or other, ain’t we?’ I said, ‘I mean, you’re not alive if you ain’t worried about something or other.’ There’s a difference between worrying and being a worrier.

  ‘Mr Elkins, do you find that you get quickly irritable of late?’ she said, as though it was of interest to her.

  ‘It’s very funny you should ask me that,’ I said, ‘but I do seem to do my nut very easily these days.’

  ‘You what?’

  ‘Blow my top. I get all aerated over something or nothing. Yes, get irritable.’

  ‘Do you sleep well?’ She was jotting it all down. I sometimes think these doctors can’t see the complaint for the notes.

  ‘I no sooner put my head on the pillow than I’m off.’

  ‘And what time do you waken up? Oh do put your shirt on.’

  Apart from that one little nasty remark earlier on she was quite a sympathetic woman. I thought: I suppose you’ve got your own problems like the rest of us. She could be in love with a specialist who don’t want to know. I began to put my shirt and tie on.

  She went on making these notes and watching me at the same time. ‘I used to always waken up when it was time to get up,’ I said. ‘If I’d a little job starting early I’d waken up early, and if I’d a job starting late, I’d waken up late. I never needed no alarm clock.’

  ‘And what about now?’

  ‘I always wake up dead on the same time – four o’clock in the morning. And that’s no matter how much I’ve had to drink and—’

  ‘Do sit down Mr Elkins. Yes?’

  ‘Thank you. Can I be frank?’

  ‘By all means,’ she said. ‘You can tell me everything.’ I felt like saying: ‘I love you, darling. All my life I’ve been searching for you and now I’ve found you.’ In fact I nearly did say it. After all, there’s not man
y birds you can tell everything to. Behind her specs she had quite nice mumsie eyes. I felt I could unload some of my troubles on her. After all, she was getting paid for it. ‘And no matter who’s beside me, if you see what I mean.’

  ‘Yes, I quite understand,’ she said. You think you do but you don’t.

  ‘I find I’m lying there in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. Or looking for light coming through the window. I keep thinking about this child I used to know.’

  ‘A child?’

  ‘His name was Malcolm. I was friendly with his mother. Nothing very special, she wasn’t. She was just an ordinary gal, but I knew him well, the child, see.’ What am I going on about, I thought.

  She got up from the table and walked across to a frame. There was a big X-ray or something hanging on it.

  ‘There is something I must tell you, Mr Elkins,’ she said. I was just thinking how young Malcolm had come out of my loins, as they say. Well, anybody who comes out of your loins is bound to be part of you. She switched on a light and this X-ray lit up and showed up a load of dark ribs.

  ‘I’m afraid there are two shadows on your lungs,’ she said.

  ‘Shadows on my lungs!’ I said. ‘Shadows on my lungs! What kind of shadows?’ Did that mean a lot of rotten microbes were chewing away at my lungs this second? I was wasting away. For a minute I felt scared out of my life. I felt the sweat pouring out in cold trickles from under my armpits. Then all my back seemed to turn into a mass of pains. There seemed to be a black shadow coming down over my eyes. Then I began to feel paralysed. She went on talking about rest, but I seemed to have gone deaf. My feet went heavy as lead. It was like they’d tied weights to them. I tried to stand up – I don’t know why. I could hardly rise. Oh Christ in heaven help me, I said inside myself. Then I felt the room getting a bit dodgy about me. And I fell very slowly down on my face, and I remember I was thinking: Oh Christ in heaven help me.

  BOOK TWO

  What use is money without good health?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN