After breakfast I strolled out into t-place. It ill,  like  t of great black bombers came o be bang overhead.

    t moment I  t, if you’d o be teresting instance of ioned reflex. Because ion of mistake—le of a bomb. I  y years, but I didn’t need to be told   taking any kind of t I did t thing. I flung myself on my face.

    After all I’m glad you didn’t see me. I don’t suppose I looked dignified. I tened out on t like a rat ed so quickly t in t second o be afraid t it ake and I’d made a fool of myself for nothing.

    But t moment—ah!

    BOOM-BRRRRR!

    A noise like t, and ton of coal falling on to a s of tin. t o kind of melt into t. ‘It’s started,’ I t. ‘I kne! Old ler didn’t . Just sent  warning.’

    And yet  aop to toe, I ime to t t ting of a big projectile.  does it sound like? It’s o say, because ing metal. You seem to see great ss of iron bursting open. But t gives you of being suddenly s reality. It’s like being er over you. You’re suddenly dragged out of your dreams by a clang of bursting metal, and it’s terrible, and it’s real.

    ting for didn’t fall. I raised my tle. On every side people seemed to be ruso t I e face, rat me. hering:

    ‘ is it? ’s  are they doing?’

    ‘It’s started,’ I said. ‘t was a bomb. Lie down.’

    But still t fall. Anoter of a minute or so, and I raised my ill rus, otanding as if to t  a black jet of smoke reaming upraordinary sig t-place treet rises a little. And dotle  of  moment, of course, I sa   pigs at all, it ing for some cellar o take cover in case of air-raids. At t a taller pig  I tell you for a moment tly like a herd of pigs.

    I picked myself up and -place. People e a little croohe bomb had dropped.

    O, of course. It  a German aeroplane after all. t broken out. It . to do a bit of bombing practice—at any rate t ake. I expect  a good ticking off for it. By time t tmaster o ask  t, everyone  it . But time, somete and five minutes,  didn’t last any longer. Anoter of an  spy.

    I follotle side-street off treet, to   fifty yards from ened and getting a big kick out of it. Luckily I got tes before te of ty people or so t ed I sahing.

    At first sig looked as if tables. t of existence. to t of it  of its roof blo  . Its  joined tly as if someone   raordinary  in tairs rooms notouc  like looking into a doll’s s-of-dra made, and a jerry under tly as it  t one  t tful smaser, cs of a varnisableclotes, and creak of marmalade be t in among t a leg, rouser still on it and a black boot  people were oo-ing and a.

    I  it and took it in. to get mixed up o to pack my bag.

    t. I’m going  as a matter of fact I didn’t s off my sely. One never does.  and about and discuss it for  muc of Lo day, everyone oo busy talking about t it sounded like and   t fair gave  did you expect, it just s ten off part of ongue oo t turned out t o taken it for granted t it  tocking factory. After t of try sent a co inspect t saying t ts of ting’. As a matter of fact it only killed tt  door. t muc, and tified ts, but trace of Perrott. Not even a trouser-button to read the burial service over.

    In ternoon I paid my bill and . I didn’t  after I’d paid to cut it out of you try els, and  pretty freely. I left my ne of tackle in my bedroom. Let ‘em keep it. No use to me. It  I’d co teac t. Fat men of forty-five can’t go fis kind of t ’s just a dream, the grave.

    It’s funny o you by degrees.   ual moment, of course, it scared ts out of me, and  from seeing a street-accident. Disgusting, of course. Quite enougo make me fed-up  it  really made much impression.

    But as I got clear of tskirts of Lourned t all came back to me. You kno gets your ts running in a certain rimes ’s a feeling of being able to see tter perspective t I’d been doubtful about I felt certain about noo begin o Loion in my mind. ’s a back to to live, or is it gone for ever? ell, I’d o go back to Lo put Jonao t expect you to follorain of t. And it ucked a corner t I could step back into , and finally I’d stepped back into it and found t it didn’t exist. I’d co my dreams, and lest take t.N.t.

    ar is coming. 1941, ty of broken crockery, and little s of tered accountant’s clerk plastered over t   kind of tter, anyell you ay in Lo’S ALL GOING tO  at terrified of, t you tell yourself are just a nigries. truncs, ting out of bedroom ’s all going to —at any rate, I kne t against it if you like, or look tend not to notice, or grab your spanner and rus to do a bit of face-smas t. It’s just somet’s got to happen.

    I trod on ttle rees and fields of ill tty nearly red-. I felt in muc t day in January  my neeet  seemed to me t I could see t, and all t’ll o all of times, of course, even t or t’s a tice ’s reassuring. tretcy. It’s like Siberia. And ttle grocers’ s’s too big to be co remain more or less tly I struck into outer London and follo lives inside t London stretcreets, squares, back-alleys, tenements, blocks of flats, pubs, fried-fisure-y miles, and all t million people tle private lives  to ered. t made t could smas out of existence. And t! teness of all tting out tball coupons, Bill illiams sories in t million of to keep on  to?

    Illusion! Baloney! It doesn’t matter . times are coming, and treamlined men are coming too. ’s coming after kno erests me. I only kno if t, better say good-bye to it noo ttling all time.

    But o the suburb my mood suddenly changed.

    It suddenly struck me—and it  even crossed my mind till t moment—t  really be ill after all.

    t’s t of environment, you see. In Loaken it absolutely for granted t s ill and  me  ural at time, I don’t knoo est Bletcate closed round me like a kind of red-brick prison,  is, ts of t came back. I  bloody rot it  I’d ed t five days on. Sneaking off to Loo try and recover t, and t of propic baloney about ture. ture! ’s ture got to do ’s our future. As for ill t tter.

    And suddenly I sao t. Of course t a fake! As tion! It  trut s all, s t s be lying some sent a most  t of dreadful cold feeling in my guts. I y miles an ead of taking to topped outside t.

    So I’m fond of er all, you say! I don’t knoly , but you can’t imagine yourself  it. It’s part of you. ell, t’s  about  stick t of  t t s be dead or even in pain sent through me.

    I fumbled  tos me.

    ‘hilda!’ I yelled. ‘hilda!’

    No ans I ter silence, and some cold s started out on my backbone. Maybe ted o al already—maybe tairs in ty house.

    I started to dasairs, but at t t of t e t  beginning to fail. Lorna ers.

    ‘Oo, Daddy! Oo, it’s Daddy! oday? Mummy said you  coming till Friday.’

    ‘her?’ I said.

    ‘Mummy’s out. S out oday, Daddy?’

    ‘t been ill?’

    ‘No. ho said she’d been ill? Daddy! have you been in Birmingham?’

    ‘Yes. Get back to bed, noching cold.’

    ‘But ws, Daddy?’

    ‘ presents?’

    ‘ts you’ve bought us from Birmingham.’

    ‘You’ll see the morning,’ I said.

    ‘Oo, Daddy! Can’t onight?’

    ‘No. Dry up. Get back to bed or I’ll he pair of you.’

    So s ill after all. So be glad or sorry. I turned back to t door, h.

    I looked at o of t. It o t less tes earlier I’d been in teual cold s on my backbone, at t t s be dead. ell, s dead, s as usual. Old oss t you invariably come back to, ternal verities as old Porteous calls t  in too good a temper. Sed me a little quick look, like simes tle tance, mig seem surprised to see me back, however.

    ‘Oh, so you’re back already, are you?’ she said.

    It seemed pretty obvious t I  anso kiss me.

    ‘t on promptly. t’s o say sometant you set foot inside t expecting you. You’ll just o  I don’t t any cheese.’

    I folloos into tting-room. I s tc. I meant to get my say in first, and I kne ter if I took a strong line from tart.

    ‘No trick on me?’

    S laid op of t she looked genuinely surprised.

    ‘ trick?  do you mean?’

    ‘Sending out t S.O.S.!’

    ‘ S.O.S.?  are you tALKING about, George?’

    ‘Are you trying to tell me you didn’t get to send out an S.O.S. saying you were seriously ill?’

    ‘Of course I didn’t!  ill.   for?’

    I began to explain, but almost before I began I saake. I’d only  fe ory. It just upid mistake t’s altle bit of imagination I’d credited erest in tes or so er all. But t c trouble of some kind coming. And tioning me in  quiet and kind of chful.

    ‘So you el at Birmingham?’

    ‘Yes. Last nigional Broadcast.’

    ‘hen?’

    ‘t t in case to lie my  of it. Left at ten, lunc Coventry, tea at Bedford—I’d got it all mapped out.)

    ‘So you t last nig even leave till this morning?’

    ‘But I tell you I didn’t t I explained? I t it  anotricks. It sounded a damn sight more likely.’

    ‘t at all!’ s I kne s on more quietly: ‘So you left this morning, did you?’

    ‘Yes. I left about ten. I  Coventry—’

    ‘t for t out at me, and in tant sook out a piece of paper, and  out as if it hing.

    I felt as if someone  me a sock in t ! S me after all. And t even kno  t it  proved I’d been off uffing  out of me. A moment earlier I’d been kind of bullying  to be angry because I’d been dragged back from Birmingurned tables on me. You don’t o tell me  t moment. I kno ten all over me in big letters—I kno even guilty! But it’s a matter of . I’m used to being in t  t out of my voice as I answered:

    ‘ do you mean? ’s t t there?’

    ‘You read it and you’ll see  is.’

    I took it. It ter from o be a firm of solicitors, and it reet as Rotom’s el, I noticed.

    ‘Dear Madam,’ I read, ‘ito your letter of t.,  be some mistake. Rotom’s el o a block of offices. No one ansion of your husband has been here. Possibly—’

    I didn’t read any furt all in a flastle bit too clever and put my foot in it. t one faint ray of  ten to post tter I’d addressed from Rotom’s, in  possible I could brazen it out. But  t idea.

    ‘ell, George, you see ter says? t e to Rotom’s el—o a little note, asking t! t even any suctom’s el. And t, I got your letter saying you  tel. You got someone to post it for you, I suppose. t was your business in Birmingham!’

    ‘But look  all t isn’t  all. You don’t understand.’

    ‘Oand PERFECtLY.’

    ‘But look here, hilda—’

    asn’t any use, of course. It  even meet urned and tried to make for the door.

    ‘I’ll o take to the garage,’ I said.

    ‘O get out of it like t. You’ll stay en to  to say, please.’

    ‘But, damn it! I’ve got to scs on,  I? It’s past ligime. You don’t  us to get fined?’

    At t s me go, and I  out and scs on, but anding tters, mine and tor’s on table in front of  a little of my nerve back, and I ry:

    ‘Listen,  ick about thing.’

    ‘I’m sure YOU could explain anytion is wher I’d believe you.’

    ‘But you’re just jumping to conclusions!  made you e to tel people, anyway?’

    ‘It  turned out.’

    ‘O? So you don’t mind letting t blasted o our private affairs?’

    ‘S need any letting in. It o to tell , you see. S you, George. So  like you.’

    ‘But, hilda—’

    I looked at e under t does w rue!

    And Gos I could see a it’s like. tly nagging and sulking, and tty remarks after you te, and ting to kno’s all about. But  me doal squalor, tal atmospo Lo even be conceivable. t  t. If I spent a o o Loo be fading out of my mind. o Lo seemed meaningless. Not gas bills, sche office on Monday.

    One more try:

    ‘But look  you t you’re absolutely o you you’re wrong.’

    ‘Oo tell all those lies?’

    No getting a, of course.

    I took a pace or tosrong. ?  ture and t, seeing t ture and t don’t matter? ever motives I miger-alin, bombs, macrunc , all fading out. Not a vulgar looshes.

    One last try:

    ‘ listen to me a minute. Look  know whis week, do you?’

    ‘I don’t  to kno’s quite enough for me.’

    ‘But das—’

    Quite useless, of course. Sy and noell me  migake a couple of er t trouble looming up, because presently it o o rip, and t I’d been  on  teen quid. Really t go on till ted  resistance. And in my mind I ran over ties, which were:

    A. to tell  I’d really been doing and somehow make her believe me.

    B. to pull t losing my memory.

    C. to let  ake my medicine.

    But, damn it! I knew w would o be.

    thE END