Read 1951 - But a Short Time to Live for Free Online Page B

slum.
    The walls needed repapering, the carpet was worn, the two armchairs were long past their prime.
    The vast marble topped washstand with its two floral bowls and jugs gave the room a Victorian atmosphere that made Harry think of hansom cabs and mutton-chop whiskers. How unlike Clair's sophisticated luxury flat, he thought, and wondered how much she paid to live in a place like that.
    He had no idea a model made so much money. Thinking of her gold cigarette case and lighter he wondered if those were also gifts from satisfied advertisers. And a car! It just showed you, he thought, how little you know about what goes on in other businesses.
    Ron suddenly pushed the table away and got to his feet.
    "Done!" he exclaimed, running his fingers through his untidy hair. "Phew! I've been working like a dog all the afternoon. Well, that's that. I've had enough for tonight. I'll correct the blessed thing tomorrow."
    Ron Fisher was a tall, lanky, shock-headed fellow of about thirty-four or five. His face was long and thin, his eyes dark, his chin square and determined. People who met him for the first time jumped to the conclusion that he was irritable and unfriendly for he had a bitter, cynical tongue, and no patience with people who bored him.
    Harry and he had met at a demobilisation centre, and while waiting their turn, had struck up a conversation that had led them to joining forces as they came out of the centre, civilians again. Ron had a large room he was willing to share. He had taken a fancy to Harry as Harry had taken a fancy to him. Ron was anxious to economise, and suggested Harry might like to split the rent of the room and take over the spare bed. They had been together now for nearly four years.
    "Have you had supper?" Ron asked as he gathered up his papers.
    "You bet," Harry said, stretching out his legs and grinning up at the ceiling. "Haven't you?"
    Ron looked up sharply and regarded Harry with a puzzled frown.
    "And why are you looking so damned smug? Fallen in love or something?"
    "What's that?" Harry demanded, sitting bolt upright and turning a fiery red. "Fallen in — what!"
    "Oh, my stars!" Ron exploded, staring at him. "Don't tell me that's what's happened? Come on; get it off your chest. It's a girl, isn't it?"
    "Well, in a way," Harry said, piqued that Ron should have arrived at the truth so quickly.
    Ron put the pile of papers on the table, picked the table up and carried it to a far corner. Then he went to a cupboard, opened it and surveyed the contents with a scowl of disgust.
    "The cupboard's practically bare," he said. "Well, I'm not going out so I'll have to make do with what's here." He carried a loaf, butter, cheese and a bottle of beer to the armchair opposite Harry's and sat down.
    "Sure you have eaten?" he asked, taking out his penknife and sawing off a hunk of bread.
    "Yes, thank you," Harry said a little stiffly. He thought Ron at least might have asked more particulars about the girl. "As a matter of fact I had a pretty good dinner." He stared up at the ceiling and waited hopefully, but as Ron didn't say anything, he went on, "chicken, lettuce, Camembert cheese with whisky to wash it down."
    "That's fine," Ron said with his mouth full. "Observe me, I'm eating oysters with a grilled dover sole to follow." He poured the beer into a tooth glass and drank half of it with a grimace. "Can't think what they put in this stuff. It gets worse every week."
    "I'm not joking," Harry said, thumping the arm of his chair. "I went to this girl's flat, and that's what she gave me."
    Ron frowned and put down the tumbler.
    "What are you babbling about? What girl?"
    "The girl I met," Harry said. "Her name's Clair Dolan. She has a flat near Long Acre."
    "Has she? Well, that's very nice and central for her. How did you meet her?"
    "I know it sounds a bit odd," Harry said, fumbling for his cigarettes, "but she really is a nice girl. She's lovely too. Honest: talk about glamour! She's just like a film star. I wish you