taken the car in Fattyâs name and she could not drive it, so she could not go shopping by herself.
âI shall have to improvise,â said Fatty, looking about him. He hoped to see a bathrobe hanging on the back of the door, but there was nothing. And the towels, although crisp and freshly laundered, were decidedly too small to wrap round him.
âWhat about the quilt cover?â Betty asked after a few moments. âWe could cut a hole for your head and arms up at the top and your legs could go through the slit at the other end.â
Fatty was doubtful, but realised that there was no other possibility. He would willingly have donned Bettyâs clothes for the purpose of the expedition, but although she was generously built, he was even more so, and he knew that they would not fit.
Using her travel scissors, Betty cut a neat circular hole at the top of the cover, with two further holes at each side, one for each arm. Then, lifting the billowing whitegarment over Fattyâs head, she slipped it down over his body, to envelop him like a voluminous toga, or wheat sack, or collapsed parachute perhaps. Fatty did not look at himself in the mirror, but slicked back his hair and slipped on his shoes. Then, preceded by Betty, he made his way down the stairs with as much dignity as his unusual garb would allow.
Nobody saw them get into the car, and they were soon on the road to Balinderry, with Fatty at the wheel, berobed in white like a spectre. After they had driven down the one and only street, finding no shops that appeared to sell clothes, they consulted the map and continued to Nenagh, some distance away. There they pulled up outside the premises of Joseph Delaney and Sons, Outfitters (since 1938). The window display, at least, was promising. Alongside green waxed shooting jackets, clearly proof against the Irish elements, there were shirts and trousers and a large selection of tweed caps.
They waited until there were no passers-by in the immediate vicinity before they alighted from the car and made their way into the shop. There, if Mr. Delaney was surprised to see Fatty dressed in a large white cover, he certainly did not show it, but greeted him as if he were wearing nothing unusual.
âIâve lost my clothes,â explained Fatty. âI need a whole new set.â
Mr. Delaney smiled. âThen you are certainly in the right place,â he said. âI sell every sort of garment. Now, what size would you be in the waist and the collar departments? Then we can go from there.â
As Fatty gave his measurements, Mr. Delaneyâs face fell.
âNow isnât that a terrible thing?â he said, shaking his head. âThose sizes are all outsize. I donât think I go up that far.â
There was silence. Fatty fingered the edge of his quilt cover despondently.
âBut,â continued Mr. Delaney, âI cannot let a man who has lost his clothes go out of my shop with nothing to put on his back. I cannot do that, indeed no. We shall see what we can do about letting some items out. I can do that right here on the premises.â
The outfitter set to with the taking of further measurements. There was an anxious moment when his tape measure proved inadequate, but this was soon remedied when he tied two measures together. âWeâll just add the inches together,â he said to Fatty.
Fatty sighed, and Mr. Delaney paused, looking sympathetically at his customer. âYes,â he said gently.âThe world is not an easy place, is it now?â
Fatty looked up at the ceiling. It was not; it never had been.
âYou could go and wait in the pub next door,â Mr. Delaney went on. âItâs Delaneyâs too â another Delaney altogether, of course. Why donât you go and have a drink and a bite to eat while I do the necessary? Youâll be more comfortable there if you ask my opinion on the matter.â
Fatty was a little reluctant to venture into