beside the jukebox came for another cup of tea. The snorer woke up, stared, went back to sleep. The man with the ring tilted his newspaper to get a good look at Gently eating. He was sitting at the far end of the room and was wearing what appeared to be brand-new dungarees.
‘That’s a fresh egg,’ Wanda said. Gently’s table was nearest to the counter. ‘I get them from a man up at Everham. Are you certain I haven’t seen you before?’
Gently grunted, drank some tea.
‘You’re not a film star,’ Wanda said. ‘I shall probably place you, if I think hard.
You’re
not in a hurry to go, are you?’
‘No,’ Gently said. ‘My time’s my own.’
‘I’m glad,’ Wanda said. ‘I like company. I never keep open later than eleven. Sometimes, if it’s slow, I close earlier. I shall probably close early tonight. You’re the type who smokes a pipe, aren’t you?’
Gently nodded. ‘I smoke a pipe.’
‘Yes,’ Wanda said. ‘A real pipe-smoker. A man should always smoke a pipe.’
Gently smoked his pipe. The trucks, the articulated, left. Eventually the man by the jukebox, a neckless cockney, looked at a pocket-watch and woke the sleeper.
‘Time to roll, Alf. We got to see a man.’
The sleeper came to himself with a start. He stared at Gently, blinked his eyes, picked up his cap and took from it a tab end. He lighted the tab end and coughed.
‘I been asleep, Len,’ he said.
‘Blinking telling me,’ Len said. ‘Like a flipping diesel you sounded.’
‘Snoring was I?’ Alf asked.
‘That’s being polite,’ Len said. ‘Never met a bloke like you. But on your feet chum. We got to roll.’
Alf rose, yawned, stretched, coughed again, drank some dregs from a cup. Wanda, who’d been behind the curtain, ducked through it again. She’d a comb in her hand.
‘With you,’ Alf said. ‘Bye, Wanda. Might be through here again Tuesday.’
‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,’ Wanda said.
‘Do us a favour,’ Alf said. ‘Bye for now.’
‘He’s got his old woman back,’ Len said. ‘You don’t have to worry about him, Wanda.’
‘Bye,’ Wanda said.
‘Bye,’ Len said.
They went out. Len slammed the door.
‘Regulars,’ Wanda said, coming out from the counter, putting the comb through her hair. A scent of sandalwood came with her. She had touched up her lips with pale red lipstick. ‘We used to be a smart place here, you know, until the war put an end to it. My husband ran it. We’re divorced. He divorced me. The place has gone down. Is that 105 yours?’
‘Yes,’ Gently said.
Outside the furniture van was moving out of the park.
‘They’re a nice car,’ Wanda said. ‘Not showy, just nice.’
She leaned at the table, looking down at him. She had powdered her face very slightly. She touched her lips with the tip of her tongue and her eyes smiled. She rocked a little towards him. The man with the newspaper rustled the newspaper. Wanda looked sulky, looked towards him.
‘Is there anything I can get you?’ she asked him.
He fumbled the newspaper nervously.
‘I’m just closing,’ Wanda said. ‘If you want anything you’d better ask for it.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘Nothing I want.’ He got the newspaper together. Besides the dungarees he wore a khaki shirt and a slouch cap which also seemed new. He rose from the table. He didn’t look towards them. He made for the door. When it closed Wanda went quickly across to it and shot the bolts at the top and bottom. She came back shrugging, laid a hand on Gently’s shoulder. The hand laid still, very light.
‘Is he a regular?’ Gently asked.
‘Him? I’ve never seen him before.’
‘Can I use your phone?’
‘Of course you can. It’s through here, in the parlour.’
She led him behind the curtain and into a small kitchen, switching off the lights in the café as she went. From the kitchen a door led left into a larger room which was dimly lit by a low-wattage lamp. The room was carpeted and furnished with a
‘That’s a fresh egg,’ Wanda said. Gently’s table was nearest to the counter. ‘I get them from a man up at Everham. Are you certain I haven’t seen you before?’
Gently grunted, drank some tea.
‘You’re not a film star,’ Wanda said. ‘I shall probably place you, if I think hard.
You’re
not in a hurry to go, are you?’
‘No,’ Gently said. ‘My time’s my own.’
‘I’m glad,’ Wanda said. ‘I like company. I never keep open later than eleven. Sometimes, if it’s slow, I close earlier. I shall probably close early tonight. You’re the type who smokes a pipe, aren’t you?’
Gently nodded. ‘I smoke a pipe.’
‘Yes,’ Wanda said. ‘A real pipe-smoker. A man should always smoke a pipe.’
Gently smoked his pipe. The trucks, the articulated, left. Eventually the man by the jukebox, a neckless cockney, looked at a pocket-watch and woke the sleeper.
‘Time to roll, Alf. We got to see a man.’
The sleeper came to himself with a start. He stared at Gently, blinked his eyes, picked up his cap and took from it a tab end. He lighted the tab end and coughed.
‘I been asleep, Len,’ he said.
‘Blinking telling me,’ Len said. ‘Like a flipping diesel you sounded.’
‘Snoring was I?’ Alf asked.
‘That’s being polite,’ Len said. ‘Never met a bloke like you. But on your feet chum. We got to roll.’
Alf rose, yawned, stretched, coughed again, drank some dregs from a cup. Wanda, who’d been behind the curtain, ducked through it again. She’d a comb in her hand.
‘With you,’ Alf said. ‘Bye, Wanda. Might be through here again Tuesday.’
‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,’ Wanda said.
‘Do us a favour,’ Alf said. ‘Bye for now.’
‘He’s got his old woman back,’ Len said. ‘You don’t have to worry about him, Wanda.’
‘Bye,’ Wanda said.
‘Bye,’ Len said.
They went out. Len slammed the door.
‘Regulars,’ Wanda said, coming out from the counter, putting the comb through her hair. A scent of sandalwood came with her. She had touched up her lips with pale red lipstick. ‘We used to be a smart place here, you know, until the war put an end to it. My husband ran it. We’re divorced. He divorced me. The place has gone down. Is that 105 yours?’
‘Yes,’ Gently said.
Outside the furniture van was moving out of the park.
‘They’re a nice car,’ Wanda said. ‘Not showy, just nice.’
She leaned at the table, looking down at him. She had powdered her face very slightly. She touched her lips with the tip of her tongue and her eyes smiled. She rocked a little towards him. The man with the newspaper rustled the newspaper. Wanda looked sulky, looked towards him.
‘Is there anything I can get you?’ she asked him.
He fumbled the newspaper nervously.
‘I’m just closing,’ Wanda said. ‘If you want anything you’d better ask for it.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘Nothing I want.’ He got the newspaper together. Besides the dungarees he wore a khaki shirt and a slouch cap which also seemed new. He rose from the table. He didn’t look towards them. He made for the door. When it closed Wanda went quickly across to it and shot the bolts at the top and bottom. She came back shrugging, laid a hand on Gently’s shoulder. The hand laid still, very light.
‘Is he a regular?’ Gently asked.
‘Him? I’ve never seen him before.’
‘Can I use your phone?’
‘Of course you can. It’s through here, in the parlour.’
She led him behind the curtain and into a small kitchen, switching off the lights in the café as she went. From the kitchen a door led left into a larger room which was dimly lit by a low-wattage lamp. The room was carpeted and furnished with a
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