“Well I can't walk all that way. Besides I don't think she really wanted us to come.”
“She'll be pleased when she sees us.”
“Yes, but it's a long way. Let's go some other place.”
“I'd like to see Brenda,” said Jock. “I'm very fond of Brenda.”
“She's a grand girl.”
“She's a grand girl.”
“Well let's take a taxi to Brenda's.”
But half way Jock said, “Don't let's go there. Let's go some other place. Let's go to some low joint.”
“All the same to me. Tell him to go to some low joint.”
“Go to some low joint,” said Jock, putting his head through the window.
The cab wheeled round and made towards Shaftesbury Avenue.
“We can always ring Brenda from the low joint.”
“Yes, I think we ought to do that. She's a grand girl.”
“Grand girl.”
The cab turned down Wardour Street and then into Sink Street, a dingy little place inhabitated for the most part by Asiatics.
“D'you know, I believe he's taking us to the old Sixty-four.”
“Can't still be open? Thought they closed it down years ago.”
But the door was brightly illumined and a seedy figure in peaked cap and braided overcoat stepped out to open the taxi for them.
The Sixty-four has never been shut. For a generation, while other night clubs have sprung into being, with various names and managers, and various pretensions to respectability, have enjoyed a precarious and brief existence, and come to grief at the hands either of police or creditors, the Sixty-four has maintained a solid front against all adversity. It has not been immune from persecution; far from it. Times out of number, magistrates have struck it off, cancelled its license, condemned its premises; the staff and until her death, the proprietress, have been constantly in and out of prison; there have been questions in the House and committees of enquiry, but whatever Home Secretaries and Commissioners of Police have risen into eminence and retired discredited, the doors of the Sixty-four have always been open from nine in the evening until four at night, and inside there has been an unimpeded flow of dubious, alcoholic preparations. A kindly young lady admitted Tony and Jock to the ramshackle building.
“D'you mind signing in?” Tony and Jock inscribed fictitious names at the foot of a form which stated,I have been invited to a Bottle Party at 64 Sink Street given by Mr. Charles Weybridge. “That's five bob each please.”
It is not an expensive club to run, because none of the staff, except the band, receive any wages; they make what they can by going through the overcoat pockets and giving the wrong change to drunks. The young ladies get in free but they have to see to it that their patrons spend money.
“Last time I was here, Tony, was the bachelor party before your wedding.”
“Tight that night.”
“Stinking.”
“I'll tell you who else was tight that night — Reggie. Broke a fruit gum machine.”
“Reggie was stinking.”
“I say, you don't still feel low about that girl?”
“I don't feel low.”
“Come on, we'll go downstairs.”
The dance room was fairly full. An elderly man had joined the band and was trying to conduct it. “I like this, joint,” said Jock. “What'll we drink?”
“Brandy.” They had to buy a whole bottle. They filled in an order form to the Montmorency Wine Company and paid two pounds. When it came it had a label saying Very Old Liquor Fine Champagne. Imported by the Montmorency Wine Co. The waiter brought ginger ale and four glasses. Two young ladies came and sat with them. They were called Milly and Babs. Milly said, “Are you in town for long?” Babs said, “Have you got such a thing as a cigarette?”
Tony danced with Babs. She said, “Are you fond of dancing?”
“No, are you?”
“So-so.”
“Well, let's sit down.”
The waiter said, “Will you a buy a ticket in a raffle for box of chocolates?”
“No.”
“Buy one for me,” said Babs.
Jock began to describe the specifications of the Basic Pig.
… Milly said, “You're married, aren't you?”
“No,” said Jock.
“Oh I can always tell,” said Milly. “Your friend is too.”
“Yes, he is.”
“You'd be surprised how many gentlemen come here just to talk about their wives.”
“He hasn't.”
Tony was leaning across the table and saying to Babs, “You see the trouble is my wife is studious. She's taking a course in economics.”
Babs said, “I think it's nice for a girl to be interested in things.”
The waiter said, “What will you be taking for supper?”
“Why we've only just had dinner.”
“How about a nice haddock?”
“I tell you what I must do, is to telephone. Where is it?”
“D'you mean really the telephone or the gentlemen's?”
“No, the telephone.”
“U'stairs in the office.”
Tony rang up Brenda. It was some time before she answered, then, “Yes, who is it?”
“I have a message here from Mr. Anthony Last and Mr. Jocelyn Grant-Menzies.”
“Oh, it's you Tony. Well, what do you want?”
“You recognized my voice?”
“I did.”
“Well, I only wanted to give a message but as I am speaking to you I can give it myself, can't I?”
“Yes.”
“Well Jock and I are terribly sorry but we can't come round this evening after all.”
“Oh.”
“You don't think it very rude I hope, but we have a lot to attend to.”
“That's all right, Tony.”
“Did I wake you up by any chance?”
“That's all right, Tony,”
“Well, goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
Tony went down to the table. “I've been talking to Brenda. She sounded rather annoyed. D'you think we ought to go round there.”
“We promised we would,” said Jock.
“You should never disappoint a lady,” said Milly.
“Oh it's too late now.”
Babs said, “You two are officers, aren't you?”
“No, why?”
“I thought you were.”
Milly said, “I like business gentlemen best, myself. They've more to say.”
“What d'you do?”
“I design postman's hats,” said Jock.
“Oh, go on.”
“And my friend here trains sea lions.”
“Tell us another.”
Babs said, “I got a gentleman friend who works on a newspaper.”
After a time Jock said, “I say, ought we to do something about Brenda?”
“You told her we weren't coming, didn't you?”
“Yes … but she might still be hoping.”
“I tell you what, you go and ring her up and find out if she really wants us.”
“All right.” He came back ten minutes later. “I thought she sounded rather annoyed,” he reported. “But I said in the end we wouldn't come.”
“She may be tired,” said Tony. “Has to get up early to do economics. Now I come to think of it someone did say she was tired, earlier on in the evening.”
“I say what's this frightful piece of fish?”
“The waiter said you ordered it.”
“Perhaps I did.”
“I'll give it to the club cat,” said Babs, “she's a dear called Blackberry.”
They danced once or twice. Then Jock said, “D'you think we ought to ring up Brenda again?”
“Perhaps we ought. She sounded annoyed with us.”
“Let's go now and ring her up on the way out.”
“Aren't you coming home with us?” said Babs.
“Not tonight, I'm afraid.”