The Day of the Triffids(24)

“Will this little shack serve—or do we go farther?” I asked.

“Oh, I guess we’ll make out,” she said. And together we waded through the delicate cream carpet to explore.

It was quite uncalculated, but I could scarcely have hit upon a more satisfactory method of taking her mind off the events of the day. Our tour was punctuated with a series of exclamations in which admiration, envy, delight, contempt, and, one must confess, malice all played their parts. Josella paused on the threshold of a room rampant with all the most aggressive manifestations of femininity.

“I’ll sleep here,” she said.

“My God!” I remarked. “Well, each to her taste.”

“Don’t be nasty. I probably won’t have another chance to be decadent. Besides, don’t you know there’s a bit of the dumbest film star in every girl? So I’ll let it have its final fling.”

“You shall,” I said. “But I hope they keep something quieter around here. Heaven preserve me from having to sleep in a bed with a mirror set in the ceiling over it.”

“There’s one above the bath too,” she said, looking into an adjoining room.

“I don’t know whether that would be the zenith or nadir of decadence,” I said. “But anyway, you’ll not be using it. No hot water.”

“Oh, I’d forgotten that. What a shame!” she exclaimed disappointedly.

We completed our tour of the premises, finding the rest less sensational. Then she went out to deal with the matter of clothes. I made an inspection of the apartment’s resources and limitations and then set out on an expedition of my own.

As I stepped outside, another door farther down the passage opened. I stopped, and stood still where I was. A young man came out, leading a fair-haired girl by the hand. As she stepped over the threshold he released his grasp.

“Wait just a minute, darling,” he said.

He took three or four steps on the silencing carpet. His outstretched hands found the window which ended the passage. His fingers went straight to the catch and opened it. I had a glimpse of a low-railed, ornamental balcony outside.

“What are you doing, Jimmy?” she asked.

“Just making sure,” he said, stepping quickly back to her and feeling for her hand again. “Come along, darling.”

She hung back.

“Jimmy—I don’t like leaving here. At least we know where we are in our own apartment. How are we going to feed? How are we going to live?”

“In the apartment, darling, we shan’t feed at all—and therefore not live long. Come along, sweetheart. Don’t be afraid.”

“But I am, Jimmy—I am.”

She clung to him, and he put one arm round her.

“We’ll be all right, darling. Come along.”

“But, Jimmy, that’s the wrong way——”

“You’ve got it twisted round, dear. It’s the right way.”

“Jimmy—I’m so frightened. Let’s go back.”

“It’s too late, darling.”

By the window he paused. With one hand he felt his position very carefully. Then he put both arms round her, holding her to him.

“Too wonderful to last, perhaps,” he said softly. “I love you, my sweet. I love you so very, very much.”

She tilted her lips up to be kissed.

As he lifted her he turned, and stepped out of the window.



* * *





“You’ve got to grow a hide,” I told myself. “Got to. It’s either that or stay permanently drunk. Things like that must be happening all around. They’ll go on happening. You can’t help it. Suppose you’d given them food to keep them alive for another few days? What after that? You’ve got to learn to take it, and come to terms with it. There’s nothing else but the alcoholic funk hole. If you don’t fight to live your own life in spite of it, there won’t be any survival…. Only those who can make their minds tough enough to stick it are going to get through….”



* * *



—

It took me longer than I had expected to collect what I wanted. Something like two hours had passed before I got back. I dropped one or two things from my armful in negotiating the door. Josella’s voice called, with a trace of nervousness, from that overfeminine room.

“Only me,” I reassured her as I advanced down the passage with the load.

I dumped the things in the kitchen and went back for those I’d dropped. Outside her door I paused.

“You can’t come in,” she said.

“That wasn’t quite my intended angle,” I protested. “What I want to know is, can you cook?”

“Boiled-egg standard,” said her muffled voice.

“I was afraid of that. There’s an awful lot of things we’re going to have to learn,” I told her.

I went back to the kitchen. I erected the kerosene stove I had brought on top of the useless electric cooker and got busy.

When I’d finished laying the places at the small table in the sitting room the effect seemed to me fairly good. I fetched a few candles and candlesticks to complete it, and set them ready. Of Josella there was still no visible sign, though there had been sounds of running water some little time ago. I called her.