The World in My Pocket

He disconnected the razor and then went into the kitchen to heat up some coffee. His head was aching and his mouth felt as if it were lined with felt. He wished he hadn’t drunk so much the previous night, but his nerves had been shot. He wished too he hadn’t invited Glorie to share his bed. He realized that this must have made a bad impression on Morgan.

He poured a cup of coffee, found a pack of Aspro and took three tablets, noting with a sense of uneasiness that his hand was shaking badly. By the time he had finished his coffee, Glorie came into the kitchen, dressed.

‘Hmmmm - coffee. Pour me a cup, honey.’

‘No time. Come on, let’s get out of here. You can get yourself some coffee across the way.’

‘Wait a moment, Eddy.’ There was a sudden sharpness in her voice that made Bleck look quickly at her. ‘That was Morgan who was here just now, wasn’t it? What was he talking about - the big one? What does that mean?’

Bleck was startled. For a moment he stared uneasily at Glorie.

‘You keep your snout out of my business,’ he snarled. ‘Hear me? This is nothing to do with you.’

‘Eddy, please listen to me,’ she said, putting her hand on his arm. ‘Morgan’s no good. I’ve heard things about him. He’s been in bad trouble all his life. He’s done everything except a killing and the way he’s shaping, that’ll come. Please, Eddy, don’t get mixed up with him. You’ll only get yourself into trouble.’

Bleck had been sleeping with Glorie now regularly for three months or so, and he liked her. She was the first person he had ever met who was interested in him for himself and for nothing else, but that didn’t mean he was going to let her dictate what he was to do and whom he should associate with.

‘Skip it, will you?’ he growled. ‘You mind your own business, and I’ll mind mine. Now, come on.’

She shrugged helplessly.

‘Well, all right, darling, but remember what I said. I can’t do more, Eddy. Morgan’s bad trouble. You shouldn’t mix with him.’

‘Okay, okay, so he’s bad trouble,’ Bleck said impatiently. ‘Come on, for Pete’s sake! I’m in a hurry!’

‘Will I see you tonight?’

‘No. I’m busy. I’ll call you. Maybe next week, but not before.’

She looked at him, her expression worried.

‘So you’re planning something with him. Oh, Eddy, please.’

He took her by her arm and hustled her out of the apartment, locking the door behind him. As he was turning the key, he said, ‘Will you pipe down? I’m not going to tell you again. There are plenty of other fish in the sea. Remember that, will you?’

‘All right, Eddy. The least I can do is to warn you, but if that’s the way you feel about it.’

‘That’s just the way I do feel about it,’ he said, hurrying down the stairs. ‘Just pipe down, will you?’

As they reached the front door, she said, ‘I’ll be waiting for you. Don’t be too long.’

‘Sure, sure,’ Bleck said indifferently and waving his hand, he set off at a rapid walk towards the distant bus stop.

Sitting in the bus, feeling the hot sunshine on his face, his mind drifted to Ginny. Now, there was a girl! What a difference between her and Glorie. What a nerve she had! In smart clothes, she could be class whereas anyone could see Glorie was just a tramp.

He scowled to think Kitson was with her on his own now, acting the part of a newlywed. Not that anyone in his right mind would regard that punch-drunk bum as a likely rival. Bleck rubbed his sore jaw, his eyes suddenly vicious as he thought how Kitson had hit him. That was something he wasn’t going to forget. A time would come when he would get even, and Kitson would be sorry he had hit him.

He was still thinking about Ginny as the bus pulled up at the stop near Gypo’s workshop, and as he walked up the rough road leading to the workshop, he wondered what Kitson was finding to say to her.

Kitson was finding very little to say to Ginny, and he thought of the stretch of sixty miles he had to drive with her with a feeling of dismay.

He had always been talkative enough with the girls he usually went around with, but Ginny did something to him. She gave him a feeling of inferiority and made him tongue-tied, and yet she excited him as no other girl had ever excited him.

To his surprise, she was talkative, but only in spasmodic bursts, asking him abrupt questions about his fighting days, if he remembered so-and-so and such-and-such who at one time had had big reputations in the ring and what did he think of them.

Kitson would reply hesitantly, his face tight with concentration as he tried to make intelligent replies. Then they would drive for three or four miles in silence, and then she would start asking questions again.

Suddenly she asked, ‘What are you going to do with the money when you get it?’

As she looked at him, she crossed one slim leg over the other, showing her knees for a brief moment before she adjusted her skirt with a movement so prim that it caught Kitson’s attention and he had to swing the wheel to put the car back on course.

‘I haven’t got it yet,’ he said. ‘I don’t make plans so far in advance.’