The Newspaper of Claremont Street Read Online Free PDF Page A

in flower. The long white bells hung motionless filling the night with a fragrance which brought temporary oblivion from the cares of the day.
    In spite of the piecework demolition in the past fifteen years, some of these remained. The scarlet flowers of the cactus, together with the cat who had been there all that time, were reminders to Weekly of times gone by. She now spent her life entirely in Claremont Street, morning, noon and night working with a thoroughness and a regularity which never failed, in one house and then another. No house was without a visit from her and her methods of cleaning at one time or another. Even in one of the flats where a European couple lived Weekly was employed from time to time.
    There was a cat who was called Crazy by those who acknowledged her. She went from rooftop to balcony and back to rooftop. In some places food was thrown up to her as well as other things including old shoes and gramophone records, bits of wood and plastic containers—all of which were lodged along the gutters, higher than human hand could reach—when attempts had been made to move Crazy and her noisy companions to someone else’s more distant roof.
    Weekly was walking home after her usual rest in the shop. Her washed-out dress looked mauve and silky in the evening light. The sun had gone from the verandahs, except for the west side of the old house where she lived. Her room caught this last ray of the sun from the west. The herringboning on the bottom few inches of her skirt looked attractive and expensive in the dusk; such are the tricks the changing sun can play. She was adding in her mind what she had earned that day to the sum which was slowly growing. Thinking of the money gave her rest and a kind of pleasure. In the evening she did not ache as she did in the morning. The breeze stirred her hair, which was grey and ugly though no one ever said so; she kept it clean and that was all that mattered. As the breeze came she felt something brush against her legs and then Crazy walked in front of her so that she almost fell over her. She lifted one foot against the cat’s body, only gently, to move her to one side but the cat persisted in walking to and fro from side to side, immediately where Weekly wanted to plant her own heavy feet, one after the other, on the pavement. Again she tried to move the cat aside.
    â€˜Yo’ll break me bones if I fall!’ Weekly muttered, tryingto lift the cat with her foot. But Crazy went on before Weekly, always in the way, and as Weekly opened the door of the old house Crazy went straight inside and, as Weekly unlocked her own door, before she could prevent it, the cat hurried into the room. This was strange behaviour for Crazy, who spent all her time, as far as Weekly knew, off the ground. Ever since parts of Claremont Street had been rebuilt Crazy had moved up, as it were, to premises with more safety and a better view and therefore more prestige.
    Weekly ignored Crazy. She was used to being alone and she was used to rummaging in her flyscreen cupboard for her next bread and boiled vegetables as soon as she came home. Next to the cupboard was a pile of newspapers and magazines she had brought home from the Chathams’ and which she would add to the pile afterwards.
    Crazy, who was tabby, was old too, but not so old, as it turned out. She rummaged about the room in her own way. There were not many places for Crazy to search in, but she managed to give the impression that she was turning things over in the room, as well as in her mind. She jumped on the bed and gave herself a wash and then came down off the bed and over to Weekly and put a soft paw on Weekly’s foot. Weekly noticed and shook her foot and the cat went back to the bed. Crazy repeated this several times so that, in the end, Weekly put down her newspaper and peered at her visitor. She got up from herchair and followed Crazy to the bed. ‘Oh my Gawd. Not again!’ she said, and sat down