Wild Geese Overhead Read Online Free PDF Page B

she’ll be out, after the next one. It’s a craze with her. And she knows every flower there is, I think—Latin names and all!”
    â€œReally!”
    â€œOh, she’s a one! And very clever. She works in an office in town. She’s the private secretary to a partner in a big firm of exporters.”
    â€œVery clever of her.”
    â€œShe had to know Spanish.”
    â€œOh!”
    â€œYes. She had to learn it specially.”
    â€œShe would, I’m sure. I mean you don’t usually get it at school.”
    â€œNo.” She was modestly proud of her niece. “Do you like this stew?”
    â€œI think it’s delicious.”
    â€œYou are not difficult to please, I must say.”
    â€œYou don’t give me a chance to grumble. By the way, if I should be late any night getting home, for goodness’ sake don’t wait for me. If I’m not here at my usual supper time, you’ll know I’m eating in town.”
    She paused. “I hope you’re not going to start working late. If you don’t mind me saying so, I think you’re looking better since you came. And that cough has got less a lot.”
    He reassured her. It would only be occasionally. And if he was delayed beyond the last bus and didn’t turn up at all, she mustn’t worry.
    When she had gone out he asked himself ironically: Paving the way for return to the fleshpots—already?
    He was not blinding himself any more. The whole final truth of his retreat to the country was no more than an elaborate (and rather silly) pretence.
    Then one morning, on the way to the bus, a cold morning of sleety rain, he got wet from the thighs down and spent a miserable day with a swelling throat, drank hot whisky toddy in a cosy corner with some of the boys, caught the last bus, and got soaked again on the mile-walk home. That weather kept up for several days. He bought waterproof leggings and a sou’wester.
    With blind darkness and rain over the face of the country, Don asked him on the third night: “Honest to God, is it worth it?”
    He got up and stretched himself before the fire in the saloon bar. He could not give in to them. That was his trouble now. The argument grew hot.
    â€œAll the same, that’s what gets you,” said Will. “You live in this fetid atmosphere, you crawl home through the streets, like rats through open sewers, and tumble, half-sodden, into your bunks——”
    â€œAnd what do you do?” interrupted Mac.
    â€œAh—I stride through the country, wind and rain in my face, exhilarating, like a song. In fact, I often do sing. I arrive in a glow. I strip—and into a bath—and then——”
    â€œYou don’t sing again?” Jackie raised his eyebrows.
    Rob intervened for the first time. He had been watching Will. “You’re all wrong. I know what it is. The dam’ fellow has got a woman.”
    Light broke on their faces. There was a clamour.
    Will glanced at his watch. “Good heavens! She’ll think I’ve got run over. I’ll have to sprint. So long, you bunch of soaks!” and he grabbed his hat.
    â€œYou dark horse!” cried Jackie. “So that’s why you have never invited us out!”
    Now he had not invited them out because he dared not, because there was nothing to show them, nowhere to go. All he could do was to take them to the nearest country pub and that meant a walk of over two miles. He could not ask fellows, bright intelligent fellows, out to his place for the privilege of gazing at trees and hedges—all bare—in a cold wind and expect them to be excited! After the first few minutes, they would feel helpless, awkward, and would begin looking around for some way of escape. All that could possibly be done at such a moment was to put more coal on the fire and produce a bottle. They would then brighten up at once!
    In their position he would feel exactly like them