The Brightfount Diaries

Puzzle on the till roll this morning. I am a fool. During rush-hour yesterday I entered something that might be taken for either ‘Agamemnon’ or ‘Afghanistan’; to-day I can neither decipher nor remember what it was. Rexine gave me level, evil stare, and said, ‘I wonder if other bookshops have things like you?’

Had supper at Mrs Callow’s; wish I had a landlady like her! Thought it friendly of Dave to come in and see us this morning, but there was an ulterior motive … on way back to digs met him in Park Road with Peggy Ellis, arm in arm. This is odd and no mistake! Wonder what Edith, our dumb office wench, would say? Always used to think she had a sort of rough affection for Dave.

August

SUNDAY

To-morrow is August Bank Holiday. Cannot afford to go home. Yet I do not mind the prospect of two days spent more or less on my own; solitude has pleasures no other state can bring. Generally something interesting arrives out of the blue to think about, or if it does not arrive, boredom which is unbearable in company is good for the soul alone.

Suddenly discover myself at such times, almost like a stranger – had been there all the time, but in the crowd had never noticed me.

Not spectacular day to begin August with, but about what might be expected: warm and cloudy, and the threat of rain. Cycled lazily out to Graves St Giles, taking the longer route through Upper Wickham. A few wild roses still in the tall hedges, but already the green blackberries show.

Ancient car passes me closely, hoots, brakes wildly. Out jumps Derek.

‘Sling your bike in the back, old boy, and jump in. How do you like her, eh? Only bought her on Friday.’

Ask him what it is.

‘A 1925 Cardiac. Sound as a bell. What do you think I gave for her?’

Say £20, which annoys him.

‘Sixty – and that was devil’s cheap. Move over, Myra, and let the blighter in!’

We cut through the village at a smart pace and slither up Uncle’s drive in a cascade of gravel. Derek yells instructions to throw out the anchor, and we stop.

‘How do you find Aunt and Uncle after all these years away from home?’ I ask him as we go into the house.

‘No different – a bit older, of course.’ That is all he has to say; does he know nothing of the Lawrence legend, or is he merely insensitive? But at once Myra slips her arm through mine and says, ‘And what a sweet, old-fashioned question it is for him to ask. And where has he been all his little life?’

Have no answer to this. Besides, she is very smart, has fringe and a pleasingly sharp look, and her arm (even offered in mockery) is not to be disdained. But Derek tells her angrily ‘not to start that sort of stuff’, and we go silently in to lunch. Myra winks at me once over the table.

Did not stay for tea.

Poured with rain before I got all the way back home. Soaked. Mrs Yell rather awkward about drying sports jacket.

AUGUST BANK HOLIDAY

Clouds cleared early. Should have liked day at the sea; the Callows were going to Bismouth on the nine o’clock coach.