Tom and Sallie

1

Bedford 1976

They were so happy – they had just got married and had moved into their new flat. Well, it wasn't a flat so much as a bedsit, but they went round proudly telling people that it was a flat because they were so pleased with themselves. The room was in an old Victorian red brick house in an extension at the back, so it was a little newer than some of the other rooms, but that didn't make it any smarter. But who cares about shabby when you have your own little world away from the control of your parents, space to be yourselves for once.

The room was on the first floor about three quarters of the way along the back corridor; the passage contained about ten doors leading to the rooms each side. They shared one bathroom and a separate toilet each of which lacked a window and ventilation. The toilet was dirty, always stank of sour, tart shit, and had a bunch of neatly cut newspaper, each sheet pierced in the corner and strung together with some old rope which hung from a pipe above the cistern. They wondered who it was that sat there and constructed this. There was a once white old brush in a plastic holder but Sallie had never dared to look in the holder or pick the brush up. The bathroom was continually grubby; it was dirtier that the person that took a bath there and it always reeked of cheap, stale bath salts and body odour.

The room was not tiny but not large either. It had one medium window overlooking the school playground next door: they could see and hear the children playing during play breaks in the school yard. The window was grubby and was framed by some distasteful gaudy curtains and one of the first things Sophie did was to measure up and get some more acceptable modern curtains to cheer the room up. There was a side unit running underneath the window that housed a small sink with hot water provided by the Heatrae Sadia gas water heater above, and a small Baby Belling Cooker with a hot plate and a small oven under it. A double bed lay against the right hand wall, and they brought along their own pillows, sheets and continental quilt and cover. No one in their families had a continental quilt, to have one was revolutionary; theirs came from the Summer Sale at Woolworth's. They were making a statement. The electric switch was a cord hanging from the ceiling; when coming into the room during darkness it was difficult to find.

There were two old comfy armchairs between which they placed the new coffee table they had bought at Waring and Gillow's. This table was of maple, very grand and not very suitable for everyday use; it also cost a lot of money but they justified the cost to themselves that it would last a long time. At that stage neither of them had a good grasp on budgeting. There was a curtained cupboard at the end of the bed for hanging clothes and a narrow shelf on the left hand wall on which lay a fire extinguisher.

“I don't want to be looking at this all the time” he laughed.

“Neither do I, you are quite right!” she replied.

The cupboard under the sink housed an electricity meter that “sold” electricity at a much higher cost than when it entered the building. It took fifty pence pieces. In disgust Tom took down the fire extinguisher and hid it in the cupboard next to the meter.

The entrance door on the back wall was opposite the window and between the bed and the wall with the shelf. The shiny carpet was old but reasonably clean, and the room had been decorated by the landlord prior to the start of their tenancy. He had painted the woodwork and ceiling, and pasted some stripy wallpaper on top of the old stripey wallpaper so the room was reasonably fresh. He had got hold of a job lot of cheap wallpaper and was in the process of papering every room in the house with it. When they had first viewed the room, a few weeks previously to moving in, he had shown them a bigger, better room which he had already decorated using this paper and it had looked quite nice, which sort of psychologically got them in a positive judging mode before they had had the shock of seeing their current room which he had intended to let to them. The shock of the difference was perceptible but they took it anyway: the rent was cheap.

The landlord was a large Irishman with a bushy beard and rough red skin. He did everything himself, gas work, plumbing, electrical work; he was not qualified in any of these trades. When he fitted a gas oven he tested that it was not leaking gas by lighting a match and passing it over the joints: he was that sort of landlord. He drove a blue three wheeled reliant robin with dodgy brakes and the name of his property company on the side. He had called the building they were to live in “Worthington House”, and had called the adjoining building which he also owned and rented out rooms from “Guinness House”. It was rumoured that he owned houses in Dublin on the wrong side of the Liffey where he also rented out rooms.

“I want to show you round so that you know everything” he said on their first tour of inspection. “This is my office, I am usually here or if I am not here I may be somewhere near”, and they nodded in understanding and union.

“If you need anything, just let me know, I will always be around. You can have a bath any time you want to and there is no charge for the hot water, and please feel free to use the newspaper in the toilet”. He then ushered them down the corridor of room doors to the end. There was a large vertical strip light.

“This is a safety light” he explained to them. “It's always on. You don't need to worry about a thing. It's on all night and all day. It will always be lighting up the hall safely for you to walk up and down the stairs. Just be reassured that I will never turn it off. It's permanent, OK?” They both nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

“The rent will be eleven pounds a week and I will be giving you a rent book that I will fill in every time you pay. I am usually found down stairs in my office or will be some where close by. Hope you like staying here.” They gave him their thanks, shook hands and entered at last their own little room, their own little kingdom.

After the wedding they moved in permanently and started their new jobs and fell quickly into the routine of married life. Sallie found where the nearest launderette was; Tom assumed that she would be doing the shopping herself and she sort of half agreed with this, but found it a little unfair. She worked just as hard as him, they both had full-time retail jobs, and had hoped that the domestic jobs would have been shared a little more. But as he pointed out, he had to work longer hours than her that included overtime, and his higher salary and the extra money from the over time he did went towards the rent and saving for the deposit on a house. And she thought this was a fair conclusion so every lunch-hour with legs aching from her having to work continually on her feet, she used to scour the supermarkets for the cheapest food she could find, plan the menus and carry all the shopping home herself from the shop she worked in to their bedsit which was about two miles away. She never used to bus as she wanted to save the money, and besides that she had no clue which bus to use anyway and had no desire to find out.

As each night she got home about thirty minutes before Tom, she always started to cook the evening meal so that it was ready for when he got home. He was pleased with this. There was always that nagging feeling in the back of her mind that this arrangement wasn't fair and that before she got married she though things would be different and that they would have done this sort of thing more together. Because of the nature of retail work they would usually have different days off in the week and just Sunday off together. On his free day in the week he would go out and shop and cook, so there was some fairness so she accepted this but felt he was doing it as a leisure hobby rather than part of an essential daily routine as she had to. He never had to trek round a shop when his feet felt painful during the lunch hour or after work, or carry home heavy shopping bags when it felt like his arms were dropping off. But OK she thought, he was right, he earned more and the money was useful.

Another thing that niggled her was that he was spending quite a lot of money on his driving lessons. She had proposed to take them too, and he had told her, no, we need to save the money for our house deposit; and that seemed quite unfair too. Perhaps this was the way married life was supposed to be and she had chosen to enter this relationship, it hadn't been forced on her. She imagined her mother saying to her “You made your bed so you lie in it!”; and she could have never accepted the comments she predicted would be made if she had left him of “I knew it would never last, they are far too young to get married”, and then there was the matter of her giving up her skilled office job........ and taking the shop job instead........her loss of her leisure freedom......the doubts grew and grew. But she buried them deep in the back of her mind. This was a new start and a new life; and it would take time to grow into.

After a month or so the Christmas rush started and the retail world was very busy. Sallie discovered that she didn't like change and it felt like she was standing, shattered, on the edge of a cliff and couldn't decide which way to fall. Things became very black and she doubted very much whether she had done the right thing in getting married. She didn't like the room, the lack of a career or the seemingly dead end job she was in. But she kept these dark thoughts to herself and carried on with the daily routine and looked forward to Christmas. She thought about how Tom might be feeling but he seemed happy enough, was in a better career and earning more money.

One night she entered the main door of the house and climbed the stairs to find the upper hall completely black and cold. She sensed the walk down the hall from having done it so many times before and blindly searched for the lock to put the key in to let herself into the room, and felt for the light cord. It hung from the ceiling in an odd place and wasn't easy to find. As she was floundering around with her arms Tom came in behind her and started to laugh at her.

“You look so funny doing that!” he exclaimed, laughing at her, and it hurt because she was just doing her best. Her chagrin was hurt, she was doing this because of him. By luck her hand engaged with the cord and the light went on.

“I was just trying to find my way round in the dark” she responded, “Its so black in here at the moment. Do you remember the everlasting light? The one that is eternal, that never goes off? The one that will exist throughout the history of humanity? The Earth's core may crack open, the World may fall apart, the seas dry up, the volcanoes all erupt at once, the world's population die from plague and famine: but you will be sure, you can depend on it that the light in the hall will never go off; it will always burn to light your way along the hall?”

“Yes”, he said “I remember”. She fell into the armchair and started laughing so very loudly.

“It's been turned off”.





2

Bedford 1977

There was the very faintest tinge of Spring in the air. Sallie was walking home from work: it was still dark but she could see a soft lightness in the aurora around the halo of the street lights. There was a warmer moisture in the air which didn't bite like the winter cold did. A few birds were singing from the trees growing out of the pavement and there was a faint smell of green that managed to seep over the smell of the traffic. She felt growth, renewal and optimism. Her feet ached and the shopping was heavy.

She was excited and happy because she and Tom were finally going to move out of the bed sit. The landlord had offered them a ground floor one bedroomed flat with its own front door which they had viewed the week before. It was in the back half of a Victorian red-bricked villa around the corner from where they currently lived. The top half was crammed full of bedsits, but their flat was relatively spacious, with a bedroom, a hall leading to a square kitchen and another hall off that lead to a walk-in pantry, a bathroom and separate toilet. No more sharing smelly space and newspaper she thought, and a huge pantry to put groceries in, our own full-sized cooker and sink, and her mother-in-law had even given them an old working fridge and twin tub washing machine. The rent was thirteen pounds fifty pence a week, a bit more than the eleven pounds they paid for the bedsit,and there were local authority and water rates on top, and the cost of gas and electricity paid quarterly to the utility companies, but this didn't matter. It felt like Sally had entered the wonderful land of suburbia.

This was Monday evening, and they both had the next day off from their work to do the move. There wasn't much to take over; clothes, cooking stuff, books, a portable black and white TV set, record player and records, but as they were only going round the corner it felt good sense to move it all by hand in a few journeys. They did all this over the course of the day; some stuff got dropped in the process. Tom was carrying the vacuum cleaner and a suitcase together, and the vacuum cleaner fell apart in the middle of the pavement in front of a pedestrian just behind. Tom looked a little harassed and apologised but the pedestrian didn't mind; Sallie rocked round with laughter at the comedy. She liked this sort of thing; it was hilarious that they were going down the street with all their possessions open to the world. At lunch time they took a break at the local fish and chip shop and cafe where they had cod and chips, peas, bread and butter and a large mug of instant coffee. This was a cordon bleu meal, every mouthful tasted delicious. Sallie remembered that her sister-in-law had told her that each fish and chip meal could contain up to three thousand calories.

That week whooshed by in a maelstrom of work and tidying, and by the end the flat was as they wanted it. They had even smuggled a kitten in, but had not checked with the landlord to see if this was allowable; Sallie had never lived before without a cat. There had been an advert placed on a postcard in the local launderette, and Sallie dragged Tom to the address; he wasn't sure whether there was room in his life for a kitten right then. They climbed up the stairs to the first floor maisonette and met the owner who had just had a baby herself, and the mother cat of the kitten. It went straight up to Tom and flirted with him by playing with his fingers, so Tom was seduced by the cuteness and could not say no. Tom had never owned a cat before. It was immediately named Lucy, and was wrapped up in Tom's overcoat to keep it warm from the Spring rain that was falling on the way home to their new flat. The kitten was adorable and used to dance around when they played music. It loved to spring up and down to the Jew's harp on their latest Johnny Cash long playing record.

The TV was placed on a stand in the front room and the duvet went on the big Maples bed in the bedroom. Sallie was fretting to get a TV licence, Tom told her not to bother, and she got one straight away the next day. You can't be too careful, she thought. There was a large old fire place in the bedroom and Sallie lit a coal fire there using coal from a pile she found heaped up against the outside wall of the flat. She only did this the once after she found out from the landlord that he had paid for the coal and had placed it there temporarily before moving it on. She then hoped that he wouldn't miss the small amount that she had taken. Because of the fridge Sallie was able to shop for a few days at a time which made her life a lot easier. She could even make jelly and blancmange.

A few weeks later, Spring really started to take shape and life was wonderful. Sallie was so happy to be able to walk home in daylight. She got home when Tom had had the day off and she was working. He had cooked spaghetti bolognese and she was so grateful that she did not have to shop and cook. There were a few large packages in the front room.

“What's that Tom?” she was puzzled.

“It's a bucket. I am going to brew some beer.”

“How are you going to do that?” She was intrigued.

“I have a tin of malt extract with the hop flavour already added. All I have to do is put the extract in the bucket, wash it out with hot water from the kettle, wait for it to get tepid then add the dried yeast from this little sachet. After six days I can syphon it off into this plastic barrel with some clearing agent and it will be ready to drink in a few days. I want to drink some beer when I get home from work and this is a cheap hobby for me.” She looked at his long thin face framed with brown hair, and his tall skinny body. She wished she could be tall and thin like him.

“That's great!” she replied “Perhaps I can have some too”.

“Of course you can! Because we are saving for a house deposit, we don't go out very much, and this will be something for us to do.”

“That seems a good idea.” They sat down at the kitchen table and had their spaghetti bolognese.

A few weeks later the beer was ready. Tom had made it, put it in the pressure barrel and attached the little capsule of carbon dioxide that would gently let out a surge of gas to cover the beer when some was dispensed to stop air from turning it sour. That night when they had both finished work and eaten their evening meal, Tom ceremoniously poured them each a glass. They both took a swallow. Sallie found the taste a little sharp and thought that there was an underlying cloying feeling in her mouth; she didn't really like it. It tasted a bit like poison. She looked at Tom. He took two more mouthfuls while she watched.

“Do you like it?” she asked.

“Well, yeah, I think it tastes quite good” he replied “And you?” She didn't want to upset him after he made it, so she said that she liked it to. She thought that it tasted a bit like vomit.

Over the next week he drank a lot of the beer in the evening and each time he expected her to drink it with him. She never refused as she liked them to do things together, but each morning she knew that she had had the beer the night before. It left her brain a little sore and her stomach with a slightly sick feeling; it made going to work that little bit harder. Two weeks after making the first batch he had bought another tin of malt extract and was making a second brew, and she felt disappointed by this, hoping that when the first brew had gone that there would be no more. He made it and put the dried yeast in and they both watched expectantly for the froth to indicate that the yeast had started working.

He was drinking from the previous batch. She didn't mind that, but was it so necessary when it tasted so awful and there were doubts and a little bit of disgust going through her mind, and it was all churning round in her reasoning like a windmill sail, a watermill causing a maelstrom in the current so that the thoughts became mixed up and powerful. Then it all exploded.

“This is terrible, you are an alcohol sponge, I want to do other things than just this.”

Tom stared at her and his face became blank and black. His eyes oscillated wildly within their orbits and they withdrew into him. Then he turned to her and stretched to tower over her.

“Don't you call me an alcohol sponge, I like drinking, I need something in the evening after such a boring day at work”, his voice increased in volume and he started to spit out the words venomously.
“How dare you tell me what to do, I'm entitled to have a drink in the evening, I have very little else” and his look became wild and very angry, and he exploded. He raised his right hand up and hit her face hard, once, on the right hand side. The kitten looked worried and hid behind the TV table. There was absolute silence. Sallie had never experienced this before; her parents had never hit her, she didn't know about violence and instability, and she had never, ever seen Tom look so angry, and he was very, very angry. He was very frightening. She was so scared. His face had gone red, his nostrils were flaring in and out, his eyes were sparking flashes and he was spitting real saliva. There was a sick feeling in her stomach, her bowels were turning to ice and she was utterly scared of him. She had done something very wrong and wished that she had not said it. She thought that he might hit her again; the blow had been hard enough to push her head over to one side, and her cheek was stinging. Tom looked at her and then calmed down a little

“Don't you ever say that to me again, I am not an alcohol sponge.”  She didn't know how to respond, this was all so very new to her and she couldn't cope with it. She went to the bedroom and lay down on the bed taking Lucy with her. Her mind was a blank and she tried to wipe the whole incident, vowing never to criticise him like that again. He stayed in the front room drinking his beer and watching the television.





3

Bedford 1977



It was Sunday morning, the best morning of the week. They spent half the morning in bed and got up slowly with freshly brewed tea, toast and marmalade. Tom nipped out for the Observer which they split into the various sections and made a start on reading: it would take them all week. They made pleasant happy talk and all was well. It was just so nice to have the day for themselves and to be together, this didn't happen on any day of the week. There were chores to do like the laundry and cleaning but these were forgotten about; it was their day off together, which was far more important.

In the early afternoon they put on their walking shoes and headed for the local park with it's wide river, walkways, flowers and ducks. It was so lucky for them to live so near to this lovely area and to be able to breathe in the spring air. It was so elating to escape from that awful shop she spent all week in. Sallie had taken along a bag of stale crusts and broke little bits off for the open beaks; the quacking increased with every handful she threw and it made her very happy to connect with the wildlife. The daffodils had finished, and were being replaced by the tulips; colours of red and yellow; it was pleasant, relaxing and peaceful for the mind.

Tom suggested that they had a coffee at the park cafe. It was on the way home and served real coffee rather than the instant they drank all week.  Sitting in the window seat and looking over the river they watched the weeping willows dancing in the breeze. Everything was perfect. They were chatting and laughing together in the way they always used to, and she felt much in love and wanted him. He put his arm round her and there was togetherness between them. The coffee was whitened with thick cream and came with some fruit cake. It was all so happy.

They had got back to the flat later in the afternoon and had just got in when they heard a loud rapping on the glass of the front door. Sally hated people knocking on the glass; there was a knocker for that job, so why couldn't people use it? Why do they bang on the glass with the risk of smashing it. Why? Stupid people with their stupidity.  She walked from the front room into the hall and she could make out through the glass who it was and her heart sank, oh no, it can't be, but it was. It was her mother peering through the glass with her father standing right behind. They must have driven the fifty miles from home and they hadn't said that they would be coming. That would mean that the rest of the day off was ruined. There was no getting away from it, of escaping, Tom and her would have to spend the rest of their only day off together being entertainers for her parents; polite conversation, we haven't had our main meal yet, , but we brought our tea with us ( cheese sandwiches, sausage rolls and Swiss rolls, all the rolls), is the gas fire on high enough? (your Victorian sash window frame lets in draughts, can't you turn the fire up for us?), enquiring and spy nose questioning, and half the evening gone because she knew that they wouldn't leave until around nine o'clock, and after that it would be time to get ready for work the next day and an early night was needed, so that was the rest of their day off, their only day off together,  ruined. Great.

“Tom” she shouted into the front room “Tom, come here please!”. He appeared into the hall and could immediately recognise the figures through the glass.

“Oh no” he silently mouthed to her, “Oh no,” and she could see from the look in his face that exactly the same thoughts that she had just had were now jumping through his head as well. The happy contented look he had in the front room now changed to gloom and despair.

She opened the door and let them in.

“Hello it's us” her mother said with an overbearing loud smile as she pushed past in the the hall pushing the couple to one side. Her father followed in tow carrying a multitude of parcels.

“Hello Mum, hello Dad, how nice to see you” said Sallie as she kissed and grasped them both by the shoulders in turn. “We weren't expecting you”.

“No we came on the off chance that you would be in, we knew it was your day off together so we though that you would be in. You don't mind do you?”

“No of course not, it's lovely to see you."  Her Dad, who didn't want to be left out interrupted:  

“We just drove up here, it only takes an hour and there wasn't very much traffic on the road this afternoon, and the car needed a run because I just fitted a new battery and some new brake shoes”.

“Oh” said Sallie with an image of the dad wearing shoes make out of brakes zooming around because he had a fresh battery fitted to his back. She never did understand the parts of a car that he talked about when she was younger and lived at home.

“We know that you probably won't have much food in so we brought our own tea,” said her mother, “I brought some sandwiches and sausage rolls, and also some Chocolate Mini Rolls and a Swiss roll”.  Sallie thought that her mother had excelled herself this time; three types of rolls, this must have been an historic first.

“That's great Mum, we haven't had our dinner yet, I was just about to cook in when you came in”.

“Oh don't let us stop you Sallie, go right ahead!”

“No it's alright, I can cook for four just as easily as two, and there will be enough”. Sallie laughed, knowing that this routine was acted out whenever they came over. The entourage and accompanying paraphernalia decamped to the living room, where her father plonked his packages on the floor.

“We were clearing out your old bedroom and thought you might like to have the rest of your stuff so we brought it over in the car. There are some books, the rest of your clothes, some old toys, you know, even your bedside cabinet, it' still in the car, would you like me to get it out now?

“Oh yes please Dad, that would be great! I could put it next to my new bed.” He immediately got up and a few minutes later re-appeared carrying the small wooden cabinet that Tom had given to Sallie two years ago as a Christmas present. Tom thanked him and carried it into the bedroom and then asked them if they wanted a cup of tea. This was mandatory: you had to always ask them this other wise they became quite hurt.

“Oh yes please” said Sallie's Dad. We're very dry after the long drive. Tom went into the kitchen and started banging around the kettle on the gas stove.

“Well, how are you?” enquired Sallie's mum.

“We're really well thank you, still working hard. And you?”

“We are well thank you and planning our summer holiday, we will be going camping on the south coast of France”.

“Oh that sounds good mum, hope you have a good time. Sallie was turfing through the packages and re-discovering her old possessions. Tom came back with four mugs of tea.

“I'll just drink this tea with you, then I'll get dinner on. There is enough if you would like it, you are very welcome”

“Oh that's lovely Sallie, you are so kind.”. Yes thought Sallie, I am kind especially as you gave me so much notice, I just love spending my day off cooking and washing up. Great!

After they ate, the two parents didn't bother to help with the clearing up and took an age to leave. Tom was looking at his watch and although he was trying to hide his impatience, Sallie could sense the feeling of him pushing for them to go. At last they walked out of the door and said that they would be back soon. I hope not thought Tom.

“We would really appreciate it if you could give us a little notice, Mum” pleaded Sallie, “You almost missed us this time, if you had been any earlier we would have still been out”.

“Oh that's alright Sallie, you are never far away, and anyway you don't have a phone so how can we tell you in time?”

“Yes that's right Mum, we don't have a phone do we. It's a bit impossible in a rented flat.”

They all walked out into the street and stood by the car. Kisses and hugs were exchanged, then they watched them slowly drove through the parked cars either side of the pavement to intersect with the main road at the end, turn left and disappear round the corner.

Tom was really angry.

“You've got to have a word with them. That was my whole day off ruined. I don't mind if I know in advance, but when I'm not geared up for it I find these unannounced visits a bit hard to take”. They silently walked back to the house and started to unpack and arrange the stuff that had been deposited.
"I'm sorry Tom, I didn't know they were coming, they never tell me, they just turn up. They do this all the time. they have always done it ever since I was little. Our relatives, their friends, they just turn up with no regard to whether it's convenient or not.  They have always done it and they will always do it.  They are so thick skinned." It was getting after nine o'clock and there wasn't a lot left of their day off and now they had to start getting ready for another working week.

Tom withdrew into himself and Sallie felt anxiety pains in her stomach; he wasn't making things any easier.  They eventually got into bed for the night and Tom faced the other way and wouldn't talk. There was that unstated silence of conflict that sliced the air and turned Sallie's stomach to ice; the unsaid words and feelings of insecurity.  Tom turned round to face her and moved his body up, resting  on one side by his elbow.   He looked straight at her, pinning her rigid with his gaze;  she could feel that old feeling of rage coming on.  His eyes went black and started to roll in their bony orbit, flashing and oscillating, rolling in and out and around and around, and his mouth formed silent small words as though he was talking to someone else, someone unknown, inside his head. His mouth started to foam and spit.  And then he lashed out with his right hand striking her sharply and diagonally across her left cheek.  She felt a black wave come over her  and she flexed her self at the waist which bent her over to get some protection from him, strengthening her body for the next slap.  It didn't come.  He rested back then sank into the pillow, turned over and went to sleep while she shivered in shock and fear, and confusion.





4
Bedford 1977

It was the middle of the morning and Sallie had been called into the Manager's office; she was on an early rota so had her morning tea break at half past nine, moving onto a half eleven lunch hour. The shop assistants were not normally called up to the hallows of the manager's office so she got quite panicky and alarmed as to why she was going. Had she done something wrong and was going to be put on the carpet; was there a discrepancy in the till? She couldn't think of any reason why she would be called up. She was on the till when the summons came, and the supervisor had arranged for her relief to take over. Thank you, she said as she turned her till key off, took it out, and opened the little side door to get out of the shop floor booth. The key jangled from the chain attached to her overall as she placed it safely in her pocket. Good |Luck! silently mouthed the relief, the others were wondering as well as to why she had been called.

The way upstairs was either by lift or stairs so she took the stairs as this took longer and she wanted to postpone the event of walking into the Manager's office; her stomach was churning inside and her pulse racing so she could hardly breathe. She then walked along the pale ochre corridors skirting around the canteen. Going through the canteen was faster but the corridor way was longer and less preferred because of the aching legs. After work they liked to walk the shorter route through the canteen which the management didn't approve of as they said it wore the carpet out more quickly. The canteen was cooking shepherd's pie for lunch again: was this the only recipe they knew? It was made with minced beef, not lamb, as this was cheaper, so why call it Shepherd's Pie? Surely this was Cottage Pie. There was a strong smell of oxo cubes and boiled cabbage which was being taken outside by the extractor fans. It was always cabbage except when it was carrots. She wouldn't be eating it anyway as to do this would cut into her budget, and she needed to spend as little as possible. No one was sitting down yet, it was too early, they would start coming through for their lunch quite soon. They would be very hungry and they would be smoking in the lounge area and the air would soon smell stifling and poisonous; they wouldn't open the window as it was far too cold and windy outside they said, far too cold and windy. At the end of the corridors she passed into the inner sanctum where the manager's office was. She rapped on the door and could hear the word “Come” being shouted routinely in a bored way in a broad Yorkshire accent from the other side and she entered.

“Ah!, thank you for coming up Sallie.” The man behind the desk looked up and smiled unconvincingly. He was not alone; the Personnel Manageress was sitting a little to his left and behind him. She silently monitoring the whole event making frequent notes in the notepad on her lap. As if she had any choice thought Sallie and she smiled as though she was really happy and keen to be there. Her body was pumping with adrenaline. “Please sit down here “ he pointed to the chair in front of his desk “I just called you up to ask you how you think you are doing here”, he smiled.

“Well I have been here just a year now and I think I am doing well; I am punctual, polite to the customers, I am accurate with the tills and I am always on the look out to close a sale, I am aware of what is popular so when I order I order appropriately in a timely manner. I am aware that my personal appearance can affect customer response and I always have a smile!”. She had been reading the staff training manual repeatedly so knew it almost off by heart and could quote freely from it at will; that's what comes from being bored with nothing else to do while at a slow till she thought.” The manager carried on in his strong Yorkshire accent. He was tall and sturdily built with thick dark greasy hair swept back over his forehead, wore thick set black plastic framed glasses and wore a white unironed shirt that needed a wash and iron, she could smell it from where she sat, an old crumpled navy blue suit with wrinkles around the knees and elbows. He seemed in a hurry. Perhaps he too wanted to go to lunch to savour the delights of the shepherd's cottage pie.

“Well I have heard good reports from your supervisor, and we are pleased with your progress here. We are looking to open up a new position here for the departments, where certain members of staff will act as deputy supervisors. They will take on the supervisor's responsibilities' in order to step up when that supervisor is absent. They will not, of course, be paid any more on top of their usual salary, but when covering the supervisors role comes because of sickness and holidays for example, there will be a little extra in the pay packet. What do you feel about that? The role is informal but will count in your favour when it comes to permanent promotion. If you can prove yourself in this then you are more likely to be considered when a permanent position comes up. Well Sallie, how do you feel about this? Would you like to be a deputy supervisor here? If you do want to, then we would be very happy to start you very soon. Of course, as the position is unofficial there is no contract to sign. Of course you would get a new name badge to wear, a black one, rather that the blue one the normal assistants wear, to show your superior position, to mark your increased authority, but you would still wet the same overall as the rest. It's very much a fluid situation.”

Yeah, she thought, I know the sort of fluid you like, it has been reported that you have often been seen in the snug at the Feathers after work once the shop is locked up for the night; a few pints to wash away the boredom of the day because whether you are a manager or staff we all need a distraction only mine is the awful taste of home brew made from malt extract. She thought about what he was saying; she was to take on extra responsibilities in a formal way, and she assumed this meant those responsibilities also meant till reckoning, safety, the security of stock, security of takings  and everything else important that kept the shop ticking over, but she wouldn't be paid any more money that usual. A lots more burden and no more money; a carrot on a stick to greater and better things later on, she might get promotion but it would mean still working in the same shitty, hot shop with the same (may be more) working hours with hardly any weekends off, split days off, busy Christmas periods selling the same crappy things to the same old crappy people, being paid low wages that are difficult to live on. The office clock showed it was eleven thirty. No wonder her stomach was rumbling.

“Well it all sounds very good, I would love to take on more responsibility. I would very much like to act in lieu in the absence of the main supervisor; I think this is a good thing, we are often as a disadvantage on the floor when she is off, problems occur with getting cheques cleared, refunds authorised, would make working in the department much easier, instead of having to run round all over the place to find someone else with the authority when she isn't there.”

“Well, welcome to the managerial team then!” He smiled his sickly smile and held out his hot fat and greasy right hand to her. She grasped it gently as to not let the grease contaminate her. “We will confirm with the other candidates and spread the information via the notice board. You will get your new black badge by the end of the week and we plan to get the new scheme in place next week ready for when the proper supervisors have their normal days off.” Sallie smiled back at him; it was good practice not to say too much, as anything could be misinterpreted she thought. Wisely though she did say “Thank you so much, I hope I do well and don't let you down”. She tried to look happy and neutral; it wasn't easy. “One thing, Sallie, you are not to say anything to anybody until this becomes public knowledge. Your supervisor knows but don't say anything to your colleagues. I don't want this to be public knowledge until we are ready for the proper launch. Do you understand?” She nodded in agreement, she didn't want anything to spoil this pseudo promotion.

She left the office just before half eleven and walked quickly back to the shop floor just in time to get permission to go to lunch, went back the same way upstairs to take her overall off, get her bag out of her locker and put her coat on. Within minute she was outside breathing the sweet air of freedom. The lunchtime was busy with shoppers and lunch time workers and the pavements were bustling in the thin Spring air. She rushed to the bakers and got her piece of bread pudding which was much better value at ten pence rather than the forty pence she would have had to pay for the cottage pie in the canteen The baker's window was lined with a wonderful display of cakes; cream horns, doughnuts, sponges, Swiss rolls, caramel slices, florentines and behind these were the shelves of golden crusty unsliced loaves which wafted a yeasty, bready and appetising smell through the open shop doorway. She hesitated on whether to buy something else and looked at the money in her purse. There wasn't very much in it and she still had to buy the food for the evening meal. Tom wouldn't do that on his dinner hour when he ate a subsidised lunch from the canteen where he worked. He would find a chair somewhere and rest his feet; while her feet ached she was still expected to cater for both of them. It wasn't fair and the bread pudding wouldn't last all afternoon: she would be so hungry around four o'clock. There wasn't even money for a newspaper to read. She was too tired to go food shopping, perhaps there would be time after work which meant more scuttling around to find the cheapest food when the main shops would be shut, with may be only the corner shops still open. She was trying to eke out the housekeeping allowance to the end of the week. It was all so difficult and tiring.

The benches in the square with the little stunted, caged trees in front of Sainsbury's were empty so she sat on the end one next to a tree choked in the concrete paving trying unsuccessfully to grow its' green leaves and opened her paper bag. There it was, warm out of the oven dotted with raisins and dusted with sugar; soft and moist at one end and crusty and brown at the other, and smelling of mixed spice and goodness. And it was good to eat, after the stressful morning she had gone through. through. From the open door of a television and radio shop she could hear Donna Summer wanting to love her baby, this was quite a new disco sound and though not being into that kind of music she listened as it was entertainment to eat by. There was an older couple at the next bench. The woman was agitated about her daughter and the man was listening to her moaning. “I don't know what is going to happen she comes and she goes and the things she does worry me so much why does she do it there's no end to it I am going to have a nervous breakdown....”. “You'll have no nervous breakdown” he replies wearily and languidly. The sun shone some warmth and the little birds hopped round her feet to peck at her crumbs so she made some more from what was left of the pudding and crumbled them on the floor to share. She felt so tired and there was still the afternoon to get though.

When she got back to the flat that night it was getting dark. She had stopped off after work at Sainsbury's to buy their meal and had found some reduced sausage rolls, a tin of baked beans and a small bag of potatoes so that would be an easy meal to cook. The meal was underway when Tom got in, he had stopped off at the pub; he had the smell of stale beer on his breath. Tom was excited over his good news and had been celebrating.

“My promotion has come through and I am being promoted to being a deputy manager at a store about fifty miles from here. I will get a salary increase, it's such good news, I am going to be moved next month and the man I am replacing said that we can take over the tenancy of the house he rents, it has a bathroom, two bedrooms and a garden. Isn't that good news?”. He looked very happy and smiles were all over his face.

Sallie look at him in amazement. The thought of getting a house to live in sounded like very good news and more money was very welcome. Then she started to churn over in her mind, my job, my money, moving.

“I don't know what to say, that's such good news, but what a change, we will have to change everything. We have been here over a year”.

“Aren't you pleased? It will be great!”

“Of course I am, just a bit shocked, it's coming all of a sudden.” She scanned the last year in her mind, a new home, a new marriage, a new discovery of his instability, his occasional breakdowns and violence. This all swept round in her mind, it was always her to do the housekeeping, to pick up the pieces. Is this what would carry on in future? No career as they would always be moving for his job, always being a housekeeper, a punchbag, a stabiliser for what ever it was that affecting his psychology. She remembered being at school, doing well in her exams, not pursuing academia any further, what would she have been capable of, she never knew. She hardy ever picked up a pen now, read a demanding book, wrote a meaningful essay; it all seemed to be a wheel grinding to a stop in a dirt track. It just went on and on in a downward spiral and for what? To live with an unstable man who was increasingly drinking and abusing her not just physically but psychologically too. Did he really love her? Was she just a stable punch bag for when he could not cope any more?







5

Cambridge 1977

The new house was semi-detached and situated in a little curve off the main road so it didn't get a continual stream of traffic or passers by making it a quiet place to live in. There was a detached garage and a large front and back garden needing a tidy up; Sally thought it was  beautiful. The house was semi-detached, the right side being attached to the house next door. The front door was on the right hand side and it opened straight into the living room, there being no hall way. A dividing door opened into the dining room where some stairs against the right hand wall rose to the first floor, and at the back a door opened down a step into the kitchen which was a little narrower but wider than a galley kitchen. There were various wall-cupboards, a gas cooker, a sink, fridge and a brown tiled floor. Above the sink was a large window which gave a view over the garage and some of the garden. Attached to the back of the kitchen was an outside toilet which was accessed by going out of the back door in the kitchen, turning right and walking down the garden path and turning right again. This outside toilet had a wooden door which had a large space at the top and bottom, presumably to make its construction cheaper and to let in some fresh air. The first floor consisted of two good sized bedrooms and a bathroom with a sink, bath and toilet, all accessed separately of the upper hall. The house came with all its curtains, carpets and furniture, kitchen equipment, and a television set. There were some bottles of home made wine inside the sideboard in the dining room; Tom noticed these almost as soon as they moved in.

Sally was amazed. She never thought that she would ever be living in a house like this. She had imagined that she would be forever stuck in a bedsit or flat and this move up was so fantastic, so welcome. The house was rented and they knew that the lease would be expiring the next March. It was a millstone, a blot, a black cloud hanging over them; they were making plans to move out as soon as they moved in. The house was being managed by an estate agent while the owner lived abroad on a fixed work contract; he would be moving back when the contract finished. They had taken over the the tenancy of the house from the person who was vacating the position that Tom was moving into, so it seemed natural that they moved into the house he was vacating. This transfer was  done informally without informing the estate agent and signing a new tenancy agreement.  When the estate agent found out about this informal arrangement he became very angry. The vacating tenant was using the arrangement to bypass the existing tenancy agreement and shortening the tenancy was meant to involve curtailment fees. Tom and Sallie were naive and didn't know this: their arrangements with their previous landlord was more informal. So they moved in with a blindfold on. The estate agent threatened to fine them, or even evict them. When the matter was referred to the owner who was abroad, he said he didn't mind the change of tenants as long as they paid the rent on time and looked after the place respectfully.

Sally was so glad about this. She liked the house and was happy there; didn't want to move out. One of the tenancy obligations was that pets were forbidden, and Sally had brought over her kitten, which she had named Lucy, which wasn't really a kitten any more, as she was growing into an adult cat. The owner said that as he was on a short furlough he would be returning to the UK to visit his family, and he would be stopping by to meet Tom and Sallie and to check the house. This seemed reasonable, she thought, but caused a problem with Lucy who shouldn't have been there. The day the owner was due to visit, Tom was working and Sallie was not. So on the morning of the visit, she put Lucy in her carry box and stowed this in the corner of the outside toilet and covered in with a old cloth. She hoped that Lucy would be quiet and that the owner wouldn't inspect the outside toilet. The owner did not arrive at the agreed time: he arrived a few hours later with the apology that he had been held up. He whizzed round the house, got some of his stuff out of the attic and made Sallie swear (almost on oath) that she had not been in the attic; she had not and the thought had never entered her head, she didn't even know that there was an attic. He satisfied himself that Sallie was a “good” person, was looking after the house, probably better than he could, and would be paying the rent on time. He even said that they could drink the home made wine if they wanted to. The visit was over quite quickly and he left. Sally rushed to the outside toilet to release Lucy who had been shut in the box for several hours. She was worried that the cat may have suffocated. But Lucy popped her head out of the opened box, looking a bit dazed and confused, nevertheless glad to be free again.

t was getting late into the afternoon and Sallie wanted a bath, there was time for a quick one before Tom got home from work. She went into the bathroom and ran the hot water from a full tank and added some bubble bath. Lucy sat on the window sill and watched her sink into the warm luxurious water, the steam and bubble bath smell filling the room. She sank down slowly into the water and smiled out a long sigh. She relaxed down after the stress of the Landlord's visit and thought of all the things they would do during the process of buying a house, making lists in her head, plans in her imagination. She closed within herself and dreamed while awake, her mind going into a thousand directions, each direction splintering into a thousand thoughts; things that had happened to her in the past, conversations she had had and handled badly, she relived the situation and conversation, this time coming up with a perfect, assertive answer, one that took control of that situation, one where she won the argument. She drifted off into her own reverie.

She heard the key turn in the lock of the front door downstairs and it slamming loudly.  She had been too long, the time taken for the landlord's visit and the bath had taken longer than she thought, Tom was home. He shouted out hello, hello I'm home, hello she shouted back I'm in the bath. In the bath? he said, Why are you in the bath? Shouldn't you be getting my tea ready? I want you down here getting my tea ready, it's your day off. I want you to cook my tea. She could hear him stamping up the stairs, and watched him crash into the bathroom. He looked angry and determined. He was still wearing his suit and tie from work, and looked tired and hot. Why aren't you getting the evening meal ready? She answered I have just finished the Landlord's visit and got stressed out from it, I thought a nice bath would be relaxing... Relaxing? He said, I need to relax, I'm tired and hungry,  I'm the one one that's been working all day, you're the one on your day off, instead of having a bath you could be cooking the tea, it's your day off, you've been doing nothing all day. I'm sorry she said, the time went more quickly that I though, I'll get dressed and start cooking...

His face went red with anger an eyes started to swivel wildly around his sockets staring at her in black criticism and judgment.  She had seen this before and knew that his rage building up, she knew what was coming. He started a long progression of shouting, each word louder than the last, a crescendo of hate, his words became negative and meaningless, spitting out like a spinning mechanical propeller, going through the motions of an argument with nothing to argue about, she could feel the spite behind them until he reached a climax, turned round, walked out of the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. He slammed it so hard that he wrenched off the door handle, it fell to the floor the other side, she could hear  the metallic clank as it fell to the floor.  The door locked tight with no way of opening it. Sallie got out of the bath, water dripping off her, and tried to open the door using the remains of the handle from her side, but the handle didn't work. She knew that she was locked in. He shouted through the door that she could stay there, he didn't care. Let me out Tom, please, let me out. He told her to get lost' she could hear him banging down the stairs.

There was silence.  She was in the bathroom naked and her clothes were lying on the bedroom floor, all she had was a bath sheet. The bath water was getting cold and she was feeling chilly; the reverie and warmth of the bath abruptly ended. She pulled the plug and watched the cold water gurgle away, escaping in a noisy silver spiral down to the drain, turned the hot tap on and watched the water run out; but it didn't get hot, the tank hadn't reheated yet. She wrapped the towel round her to get some warmth, pulled down the lid of the toilet and sat on it. Lucy looked down at her from the window sill and slowly closed her eyes in sympathy. They both looked out through the frosted glass into the darkening evening.

Time passed in silence and she got colder. She called out to Tom, and got no answer. She was now very cold. Tom, Tom, are you there? She heard footsteps on the stairs, then a rattling and screwing sound on the door outside, then a very loud banging and the handle came away from her side and  fell on the floor, he pushed the door open. I was a long time, he said, I had to find the tools in the garden shed, I didn't know where they were. Yes, she said, it seemed like you were ages, I am getting very cold.  He said, I have to mend this handle now, not sure how I will do it. That's your problem she said, you broke it so you can mend it. He stood to one side, she pulled the meagre bath sheet as much as possible round her shoulders and went through the landing to the bedroom and got dressed.

Tom stood in the bedroom doorway watching her dress. She said “I am sorry your tea wasn't ready, I forgot the time after the landlord left. I was worried about Lucy and hid her in a box in the outside toilet. She was there a long time and got confused. Then I had a bath...then almost fell asleep....then you came back earlier than I thought”.

“It's okay, it's okay, I came back in a bad mood. It's been a tough day at work, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have shouted at you like that. Come on, don't be upset, if we don't cook anything we can always go to the chippy, the food's not that important, really, I'm sorry I behaved like that.”

“I felt like a prisoner, like you had imprisoned me for being a bad wife, like you didn't really care, like you didn't love me. I haven't been doing nothing all day. I've been doing things for us, as well.”

“I know, I know, I'm sorry, it just all came out, it all built up over the day.”

“It's okay, I understand, come here.” 

He came here.

They put their arms round each other. She talked calmly and quietly. I went out this morning to the city centre while you were working, before the landlord came, I wasn't doing nothing all day; I got some chops for our tea. I'll cook tea now, she said. He smiled and said thank you, I'm sorry, I really do love you.

They went downstairs, her to the kitchen where she rattled pans and prepared food, and he to the front room where he sat on the settee, put the TV on and waited, smelling the food cooking. They sat at the table in the middle room eating the food in silence. She then produced two cakes from a bag in the kitchen which they ate with a cup of coffee then they talked seriously. She started by stating that the lease on the house isn't permanent, it expires not long after Christmas. We really do have to think about where we are going to live. I know, he said, I know, I still the best thing is to buy a house, it's better value than renting. Yup we are agree on that. She said I hope you don't mind, I had a look round the estate agents after buying the food. Look, I got some sheets on houses. Have a look. She brought them over from where they were lying on the sideboard. There are some we can afford and they don't look too bad, liveable in, not like slums. We have the deposit. I think we should really get going on this. He looked pleased that she had taken the initiative. I am glad you did this, he said. They had a good look at the sheets and decided to view a few. These ones look nice. It's your day off tomorrow as well Sally. Make some appointments with the estate agents and we can start our viewings. This is exciting.

The next day she rang round and made appointments, and that night they made their first visit. It was dark and they couldn't see the names of the roads clearly and wandered round the area several times before they found the turning to their targeted street. It was a street of terraces with no front gardens; they knew it would be that. They found the house, it didn't look very good; there was no garden, it was set directly against the pavement, the door was made of half rotten wood and the window to the side was cracked.  

Tom knocked on the front door and after what seemed a long time a light went on behind the cracked glass and an elderly bald man with a moustache slowly opened the door. English was not his first language but they tried their best to communicate. They entered and knew straight away that this house was not for them. It was a mess. The first thing that they noticed was the smell, damp, musty and mouldy. They looked at the hall. The walls were half pasted with wall paper; they had been totally papered at one time, but now parts were bare where the paper was peeling off through damp and age, and the parts with paper showed several layers where the decorator had not stripped off the old paper before putting on the new. The bits with no paper on were painted with a sickly green paint, and some areas were a different green to that suggesting that many layers of paint had been applied over the years.

 The wooden stairs were steep with no carpet. The bannister was a home made job with nails sticking out between the shakily fitted planks and splinters. It didn't look safe. The kitchen was unfitted, painted with the same colour scheme as the hallway but with added other shades, it was difficult to see what colour scheme it was intended to be. Dark green? pale green? yellow? black? There was an old gas oven, a rickety Formica table, a large Belfast sink with a cold tap attached to it and a wooden draining board. Boxes were stacked everywhere. The floor was covered in old plastic tiles, alternating black and yellow, we could play chess here thought Sallie, though it would be difficult to have a long game, studying the moves with that flashing florescent light would be difficult. The front room had no wall paper and no pattern of old paint on the wall either, just bare plaster. The ceiling was painted with a new type of paint, flaky falling paint. She had seen enough and didn't want to risk going upstairs via the dangerous looking stairs. She looked at Tom and saw the same thoughts in his head.

“Thank you so much for showing us round! We'll think about it and let you know”.

“Don't you want to see upstairs?”

“No, I think we've seen enough” They walked back into the hall, opened the front door.  After he had shut they door and they had walked away an explosion the giggles got both of them. When they calmed down they decided that although the house had potential,  they would not be able to afford the renovation costs to make it habitable., and they could not live in one like that  unrenovated. So they knocked it on the head. Then Tom said he fancied a pint of beer. At work he had found out about a real ale pub owned by the Campaign For Ale called the Salisbury Arms. He had seen the road where it was on Sallie's map, it wasn't very far away and he heard that it sold several real ales on handpump. He would like to go and see what it was like. Sallie thought this was one of Tom's better ideas. She was thirsty too. She asked him to point it out on the map, he only knew the road. She saw it was a road off the main shopping street, Mill Road, just over the railway bridge. So off they set. 

The railway bridge was wider than they thought and the walk was longer than they thought. Because of the dark she found it difficult to read the map. As they progressed under the streetlights she had to stop underneath each one to see where they were. She had to do the navigating and he followed, moaning that she was doing a bad job. I'm trying my best Tom.  Can't you stop complaining? it's dark, do you want to do it instead? A light drizzle fell through the corona of the street lights and it was cold. A shine reflected off the wet pavements. She found the road and the pub was halfway down on the left.

Tom was right. The pub was nice. The floors were of wooden planks, the plaster walls were painted in a cream colour hung with ornate mirrors and posters of The Cambridge Folk Festival from previous years. There was a handful of people sitting round the tables and a few sitting on stools at the bar. There were just a few people smoking so that the air was somewhat clean, Salle hated smokey pubs which stopped her breathing and made her want to leave. Tom was looking at a row of six hand pumps, something not seen very much in the pubs they had been to. A list of beers and prices was chalked on a blackboard resting against a pillar at the end of the bar.

Tom stood for a while reading the list, unsure of which beer to have.“I'll have a half of Adnams please Tom” said Sallie who was getting fed up with waiting for him.

“Okay, I'll join you with that one Sallie”. The man behind the bar looked expectantly at him. He was fed up with waiting too.

“A pint and a half of Adnams please”. They carried their beers to an empty table for two in the corner positioned by and old old recycled church pew. The table was built over a curious contraption made from an old sewing machine treadle. It was possible to sit at the table and work the treadle automatically with your feet while your mind went somewhere else; a sort of pub meditation. Tom started to vigorously peddle the sewing machine and looked through the window behind him at the silver rain running down the black window.

Sally took a swallow of the beer, it tasted just like any other beer. In a blindfolded tasting she would not be able to identify or name different types. “Hello Tom, are you with us?” Sally said lightly. “You look a million miles away”. Tom looked grave and black. He started out in a long speech, sounded as though he had practised it for months, talked about how unhappy and unsure he was. It was always her that made the decisions, her that decided what they were going to do, where they were going to live. It was always her in control, guiding him, pushing him. He was very unsure as to how their life was going, that he was not in control of it. He was undecided that buying a house together was the right decision, he didn't feel ready to take on a mortgage, this was a loan that would spread out over nearly all his life. He was being pushed by her in a direction that he didn't want to go down. In the last few months he didn't really know if he loved her any more. She looked ordinary, she wasn't pretty, he didn't like the clothes that she wore. He thought she was fat. When she came home from work her breath smelt, she reminded him of someone who ate garlic and stale yogurt. She talked of boring things and didn't go anywhere interesting. And here she was talking him into taking a joint loan out with her that was going to cement them together for a very long time.

Sally sat back quietly in her chair and looked at him. Her stomach turned to cold ice.  Things shook violently and silently around her. “I thought that this was what you wanted. Don't you want this? What do you want? What else do you want? This is what people do. I thought you loved me, wanted to be with me, I thought we would be together forever, I can't imagine my life without you. I love you.”

“Over the last few months I don't know if I really love you. I'm sorry. I thought I loved you. We have known each other for such a long time, grew up together, I don't know about life without you, sometimes I look out and see other things, wonder what I am missing. You don't think about me, you just take over and think about yourself”

“I didn't know all this. You are so hidden sometimes. What are you going to do? What do you want to do? Just now we were looking at houses together, now everything changes. Don't do anything please, not just yet, this is a shock, I don't know how to react, how am I suppose to react? What am I supposed to do? What are we going to do?"

They sat silently. The rain pattered against the window. Sally didn't want her beer. Tom finished his and got another pint.