The Green Man Read Online Free PDF Page A

tolerance.
    ‘Yes,
Jack and Diana Maybury are coming in. In fact, they’ve already—’
    ‘I
know, I know, you told me this morning. Funny sort of rooster, isn’t he? I mean
peculiar. All this I’m the most responsible and efficient general practitioner
in the whole bloody country and a great friend of everybody’s and that’s all
there is about me. I don’t think I like him, Maurice. I wish I could say I did,
because he’s been very good to me, I mean as a doctor, I’ve no fault to find
with him there. But I don’t think I really like him as a man. Something to do
with how he treats that wife of his. There’s no love lost there, you know. Understandable
enough. That way of hers of going on as if how bloody marvellous you are
considering you’ve got no arms or legs. Well, at my age I more or less expect
that style of thing, but she does it with everybody. Oh, very attractive, of
course, I can see that. You’re not, uh, by the way…?’
    ‘No,’ I
said, wishing I had a drink. ‘Nothing like that.’
    ‘I’ve
seen the way you look at her. You’re a bad lad, Maurice.’
    ‘There’s
nothing wrong in looking at her.’
    ‘In
your case there is, because you’re a bad lad. Anyway, don’t touch it, if you
want my advice. That sort of little bitch would be more trouble than she’s
worth. There are other things to a woman than taking her to bed. And that
reminds me—I’ve been meaning to have a chat with you about Joyce. She’s not
happy, Maurice. Oh, I don’t mean she’s miserable, nothing like that, and she
does throw herself into the life of the place— you’re very lucky there. But
she’s not really happy. I mean she doesn’t really think you’d have gone as far
as marrying her if you hadn’t wanted somebody to be a mother to young Amy. And
that side of things isn’t working out as well as it might because you’re
leaving it to her to do it instead of helping her to do it and doing it with
her. She’s a young woman, Maurice. I know you’ve got a lot to do running the
pub, and you’re very conscientious. But you mustn’t hide behind that. Take this
morning, now. Some rooster was kicking up a fuss because Magdalena had spilt a
few drops of tea into his breakfast marmalade, if you don’t bloody well mind.
Joyce dealt with him all right, and then afterwards she said to me…’
    He
stopped, as his ear, no less quick than mine, caught the sound of the outside
door of the apartment opening. Then, hearing expected voices, he got up from
the dining-chair where he had settled himself, so as to be on his feet by the
time the door opened. ‘Tell you later,’ he mouthed and whispered.
    The
Mayburys and Joyce came in. I went over to the sideboard to see about the
drinks for dinner, and found that Diana had followed me. Jack had started being
as tolerant as ever to my father, who he seemed to feel could not reasonably be
expected to maintain impeccable physical trim at the age of seventy-nine. Joyce
was with them.
    ‘Well,
Maurice,’ stated or queried Diana, managing to turn even that short utterance
into a fair sample of her unnaturally precise enunciation. She also implied by
her tone that she had effortlessly removed us both to a level far different
from the plodding to-and-fro of ordinary converse.
    ‘Hallo,
Diana.’
    ‘Maurice
… do you mind if I ask you a question?’
    There,
again in small compass, was Diana for you. It was tempting, and would have been
near the truth, to answer, ‘Yes, I do, by God, if you really want to know, very
much indeed,’ but I found that I was looking at or near the low top of her
serpent-green silk dress, where there was a lot more of Diana for you, and
merely grunted.
    ‘Maurice
… why do you always look as if you’re trying to escape from something? What
makes you feel so trapped?’ She spoke as if helping me count the words.
    ‘Do I?
Trapped? How do you mean? As far as I know I’m not trying to escape from
anything.’
    ‘Then
why do you look as