Lucky Jim

'You've got a point there, Christine, there's no question about that.

But she's got no real claim on me, you know.'

'Hasn't she? She seems to think she has.'

When Dixon hesitated, he was aware of the utter silence. He turned in his seat, so that he was directly facing her, and said in a less harsh tone: 'Look, Christine. Put it like this. Would you like to come out with me? Forgetting about Bertrand and Margaret for the moment.'

'You know I would,' she said at once. 'Why do you think I let you take me away from the dance?'

' So you did…' He looked at her, and she looked back with her chin lifted and her mouth not quite closed. He put an arm round her shoulders and bent towards the neat blonde head. They kissed more earnestly than before. Dixon felt as if he were being drawn downwards into some dark, vaporous region where the air was too heavy to breathe with comfort and the blood became thin and slack. Her body, half against his, was tense; one breast lay heavily against his chest; he raised his hand and laid it upon her other breast. Immediately her tenseness disappeared, and though her mouth stayed on his she became passive. He understood and moved his hand to her bare shoulder, then let her go. She smiled at him in a way that made his head swim more than the kiss had done.

When he didn't speak, she said: 'Yes, all right, then, but I still think it's a dirty trick. What do you suggest?'

Dixon felt like a man interrupted at his investiture with the Order of Merit to be told that a six-figure cheque from a football pool awaits him in the lobby.' There's a very nice hotel in the town where we could have dinner,' he said.

'No, I don't think we'd better arrange anything for an evening, if you don't mind.'

'Why not?'

'I don't think we'd better, not just for the moment We'd be bound to start drinking, and I…'

'What's the matter with drinking?'

'Nothing, but don't let's do any drinking together for the time being.

Please.'

'All right, then. What about a tea?'

'Yes, a tea'd be fine. When?'

'Would Monday do?'

'No, I can't on Monday; Bertrand's having some people over he wants me to meet. What about Tuesday?'

'Fine. Four o'clock be right for time?' He explained how to get to the hotel where they were to meet, and had hardly finished when the unmistakable and growing sound of a car became audible.' My God, here they are,' he said, instinctively whispering again.

'What are you going to do?'

Til wait until they've started coming in the front door, and then nip out by the window. You close it after me.'

'Right'

The car began moving along the front of the house.' You've got all that about where to meet?' he asked.

'Don't you worry, I'll be there. Four o'clock.'

They went over to the window and stood there with their arms round each other while the car's engine, after a terrible rattling roar, died away, and footsteps receded.

'Thanks for a lovely evening, Christine.'

'Good-night, Jim.' She pressed herself to him and they kissed for a moment; then she broke away w"ith 'Wait a minute' and rushed over to where her bag lay on a chair.

'What's all this?'

She came back and thrust a pound note at him. 'For the taxi.'

'Don't be ridiculous, I…" 'Come on, don't argue; they'll be here in a second. It must have cost the earth.'

'But…'

She pushed the money into his outside breast-pocket, frowning, pursing her lips, and waggling her left hand to silence him in a gesture that reminded him of one of his aunts forcing sweets or an apple on him in his childhood. 'I've probably got more than you have,' she said. She propelled him to the window, which they reached just as Welch's voice, in its high-pitched, manic phase, became audible not so far away.'

Quick. See you on Tuesday. Good-night.'