The Chalk Giants Read Online Free PDF Page B

said, ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘Well, look at it my way,’ said Jones. ‘You’ve got the vehicle for it, we’ll stake you to a couple of days’ grub. Should be good pickings up by Kimmeridge. They had a general shop.’
    Stan said dully, ‘Maybe I could go and see what I could find.’
    Jones shook his head. ‘No,’ he said, ‘that’s not what I mean.’ He leaned forward. ‘Fuck off, Potts,’ he said. ‘Nobody wants you here.’
    Stan smiled, and kept his eyes down. He said, ‘I’ll think about it’
    Jones lit another cigarette. His woman’s face was thoughtful, ‘I expect you will,’ he said. ‘But you won’t go.’ He paused. ‘You’re a funny sod, Potts,’ he said. ‘Why did you come down here in the first place? What was it you wanted?’
    The flush was starting at the roots of Stan’s hair. He kept his eyes on the sea with desperate casualness, and hoped the other would stop.
    Martin blew smoke. ‘I don’t think you’re a ginger,’ he said, ‘so it wasn’t Richard. And it certainly wasn’t me. You don’t like me much, do you?’
    Stan said, ‘I wouldn’t say that’
    ‘Well,’ said Jones, ‘I don’t like you.’ He blew smoke. ‘I wonder if we’ve got what you wanted,’ he said. ‘I hope it wasn’t Maggie. She wouldn’t be any good to you. Shall I tell you why?’
    Stan didn’t answer; and the other began to laugh. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t believe it. But it’s true, isn’t it? I know who it is. You never take your eyes off her.’
    Stan said, ‘Oh, shut up ...’ He could have bitten his tongue instantly; but it was too late, the childish remark was out.
    Jones went into fresh peals. ‘Potts,’ he said, ‘you will be the death of me ...’ Then he became serious. ‘Stanislaus,’ he said, ‘have you ever had a woman?’
    No answer.
    ‘You haven’t, have you?’ said Martin. ‘And I’ll tell you something. I don’t think you ever will.’ He shook his head. Poor old Potts,’ he said. ‘It’s going to take more than the end of the world to change your luck. You must be mad...’
    He heard his mother’s voice on the stairs, and the door slam as he stood crimson and shaking with shame.
    His life had not been easy. He remembered how years back, before he left school, it had been the same. His father used to take him to the Variety sometimes, his father had been an expert on Variety; he said he liked the cleverness of the turns, though if there were nudes he always leaned forward a little in his seat. And Stan would sit and pretend to tuck into his ice-cream and watch up under his lids at the girls who ran about in their little pants and bras and showed their belly buttons, sometimes he couldn’t forget for days. He used to think if only he could have one of those girls, just one, only once to know what it was like, it wouldn’t be too bad. Afterwards, when he knew that wasn’t going to happen, the Variety was finished; and you didn’t have to open the Sunday papers and see it there, or watch it all on the Box. Only as he got older, it got worse again because it started happening everywhere, on the streets; some of them were only kids but you could see their nipples and the whole lot if you looked. It made him more furtive, more secret; it brought the smile back nearly all the time. And the office girls at work, when they came up through the Stores you could see the lot, you sometimes couldn’t help it. Then they’d glare as if it was your fault, something you’d done. So the need came back, stronger than before, till he must assuage himself, though he groaned and cursed. Then he met Martine, and for a time held her image pure. But the dreams would come; till one day, only to stop them, he thought how wonderful it would be if he was her, to live inside her body and have it for his own, to walk with his head up and have the world at his feet. He knew it was wrong, but once started the thoughts wouldn’t stop. Any more than the other thing had.