A Store at War. Joanna Toye

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       Chapter 6

      ‘Jim? Jim?’

      Jim looked round, startled. Robert Marlow, in his pinstriped suit, with stiff collar and firmly knotted tie, was striding towards him. Jim had snatched off his own tie the minute he’d left the shop, rolled up his sleeves and hooked his jacket over his shoulder. The sinking sun was still warm and after a long day cooped up inside, he was longing to feel the rays on as much of his bare skin as he could.

      ‘What’s of such gripping interest?’

      Robert had arrived beside him now and Jim caught a waft of cologne. He was surprised and a little perturbed to be accosted like this. He didn’t know much about Robert Marlow except that he was, of course, heir to the business – and so to everything that Cedric Marlow had lovingly created Marlow’s to be.

      Jim and Robert were much the same age, Robert just a few years older, but there, quite apart from status, any likeness stopped, physically and, Jim suspected, on pretty much every other level. Jim was well aware of his physical shortcomings, with his hair which stuck up in a tuft at the back and specs he was always fiddling with, so which were always bent out of shape. His tie was most often adrift, however much he tried to straighten it, the seat of his suit trousers was shiny, and his shoes, though polished, had seen better days. Robert, on the other hand, had the buffed and glossy look of a man who’d known nothing but privilege since birth. He had thick well-cut fair hair, a rosy face that looked as if it had been scrubbed with a Brillo, and his clothes were always immaculate. His hands were pink and clean and his nails clipped. He was, in short, a perfect physical specimen. As for their interests – well, Jim could only guess, but he hazarded that Robert’s were cars, cricket, and pretty young women – definitely not the quieter pursuits Jim enjoyed. In the few months Jim had been at the store any conversation with Mr Marlow Junior that wasn’t about stock levels, a customer query or a complaint had been confined to pleasantries about the weather. But now a friendly-sounding Robert indicated the lime tree into whose canopy Jim had been peering. Jim explained.

      ‘It’s a nest. Blackbird. Listen.’

      In the stilled air – so few cars on the road had to bring some advantages – a demanding cheeping could be heard.

      ‘Must be a second brood. Mum and dad are off foraging for food, I suppose.’

      Robert’s eyebrows telegraphed surprise.

      ‘Birdwatcher, are you? Still, that goes with the territory where you come from, I suppose. The wilds of Worcestershire!’

      He grinned as Jim dipped his head.

      ‘There’s a bit more wildlife there than in town, yes, but it’s amazing what thrives here. Nature’s pretty hard to keep down. Which is encouraging, really. When everything else is limited or rationed or being pounded to bits.’

      Robert Marlow pulled a face.

      ‘Crikey! This is all getting a bit deep!’

      ‘Sorry. But when you see bombsites – buddleia and loosestrife starting to grow – don’t you think that’s incredible? That huge mess of rubble and dust but they always find a way into the light.’

      ‘What, there’s a message there somewhere?’ Robert pulled a face. ‘Like I said, all a bit deep. Come on, enough philosophy for one night. I’m taking you for a drink.’

      ‘But—’

      ‘No arguments. We’ll find a place with a beer garden. You can commune with nature with a pint in your hand!’

      They found a place with СКАЧАТЬ