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"And listen carefully, because I mean it ... I'm going to marry Robbie Dunn, so what do you think of that, eh? Whether you divorce Dad or not I'm going to marry Robbie Dunn." She swung her angry gaze from her mother to John and, bouncing her head at him, she cried, "And you can do what you damn well like about that." The silence fell heavily on the room again and no one broke it as she turned and rushed out.

She almost fell into her bedroom, such was the speed with which she ran across the landing and flung herself at the door. Once inside she didn't put on the light but groped her way to the window and, extending her arms, gripped each side of the framework. Her whole body was shaking with a mixture of amazement, fear and cold. What on earth?

what in the name of heavens 1 what .

WHAT?

had possessed her to say such a thing I Marry Robbie. Dunn when he had never even looked at her in that way, never even as much as touched her hand until this afternoon? She must have gone stark staring mad. What if John went to him? What if her mother wrote? Her head sank deep' on to her chest. She would die of shame. She didn't love him, he didn't love her, then why?

why had she said that? Oh God I She turned about and threw herself face downwards on the bed and she bit tightly on the corner of the pillow, but she didn't cry. She mustn't cry, she told herself bitterly; what she must do was to think, and think clearly of what she was going to say to Robbie when he asked her for an explanation . It was about seven o'clock on the Monday evening when Esther, without announcing herself in any way, went into Gail's room and, closing the door behind her, looked at her daughter and said quietly, "I want to talk to you."

Gail was sitting at the dressing table and after one quick glance in her mother's direction she lowered her head and 197 While Esther Blenheim stood looking at the back of her daughter's head, she told herself that she must keep calm. She couldn't believe that only two days had elapsed since Saturday, for she had crowded so much painful thinking into them that they appeared like months. The outcome of this cathartic process was that she was about to waive her moral principles in order to save her daughter years of unhappiness, she was choosing the lesser of two very real evils. At least that's how it appeared to her.

"Look at me, Gail."

Gail slowly raised her eyes from the tray, and looked at her mother's reflection through the mirror. She didn't know what she was up to now but undoubtedly it would be something twisted, but she didn't really care what it was as long as she didn't hear her say "I've written to Robbie Dunn'. Her mother hadn't spoken to her during the past two days and she'd been afraid to break her silence.

Esther, looking at the young tight drawn face, said, "I want to make a bargain with you." She paused, then went on slowly, *I don't believe in divorce. Your father has always known that;

I've . ".. I've already refused his request but'--she swallowed twice and nodded her head a number of times before ending, " I'd be willing to give him want he wants if you'll give up all idea of marrying that boy. "

Gail was facing her now, having swung swiftly round on the stool, and Esther, taking this as a prelude to a verbal onslaught and a refusal, held up her hand and cried, "Now listen, listen. In the first place, and I mean this, it's you I'm thinking of. That boy ... that boy's not in your class, you know he's not. You wouldn't be married to him five minutes before you were ashamed of him. I know what I'm talking about.

He's . I'm going to say it, he's a Jew, he looks a Jew of Jews; he thinks like a Jew, he acts like a Jew. You would be more likely to be at ease with a Negro that you would with him after a while . you have nothing in common. " She paused again while she stared down into her daughter's face, and her voice dropping to a whisper, she said, " There it is, it's in' your hands. I'll give your

i. unii'-'-ii'-'ua wiiu ivuuluc uuaa.

Gail slowly lowered her gaze from her mother's face; then her head moved downwards. She had the desire to laugh. It was gurgling in her.

She felt sick with relief. She kept her head bent as her mother went on talking, almost pleadingly now, saying, "You think me cruel, but you'll thank me later on."

Esther stopped and stood staring down at the centre of the bent head.

The fair hair looked beautiful, alive and springing, and she remembered that at one time all of her daughter had promised to be beautiful. And she could be yet. But whether she changed or remained as she was, the thought of Sesh of hers being associated with that low, common individual was unbearable. She said now, "I'll give you time to think it over."

She was turning away when Gail muttered from under her breath, "If ...

if I do it, will you let me do it my own way;

you . you won't approach Robbie, or let John? " There was a pause before Esther said " Very well. "

"When will you see to it? I mean about Dad." Her head was still bowed.

"As soon as possible."

"I won't stop seeing Robbie until they've got it in writing."

"Gail 1 I've given you my word." Esther was bristling. Gail's head was up now and she was staring at her mother.

"That's how it must be. When the solicitor says it's all right, then I'll tell Robbie, not until. Take it or leave it."

Esther let out a long drawn breath, then went swiftly out of the room.

Staring at the closed door Gail cupped her face in her hands and pressed her cheeks so tightly that her lips pouted. Then, her hands dropping into her lap, she turned to the mirror again and watched her eyes cloud over and her face crumple as if she was about to burst into tears. A few minutes ago the whole situation had seemed marvelous, even funny. Her father was getting what he wanted because she was giving up something that she'd never had, Robbie Dunn's love, but now she had signed that something irrevocably away. Once the divorce proceedings started she wouldn't be able to see Robbie again.

Robbie lay, his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. It was Sunday morning and Sunday morning as a rule meant a long sound sleep until Janet would shake him by the shoulder, saying, "Come on, have this cup of tea. Do you know what time it is?" But this morning he had woken around four o'clock and couldn't get oft again; it was all the talking last night before they had gone to bed. They were all worried . Well, for himself he couldn't say he was worried, not really worried. If that's the way she wanted it, well, there wasn't much he could do about it, was there? If her dad couldn't get her to come out here then he hadn't much chance had he? But why had it happened all of a sudden like that? Was it because the social gap had just struck her?

Nol No! It wasn't that. Then what? Aw, why was he bothering his head? What did it matter? Now let him get this straight and not kid himself any more. In his own way he was as much concerned about her change of attitude as the other two, although he hadn't let on to them.

And it wasn't that he had fallen for her, lor no! That would have been something, wouldn't it? The reception she would have given to any advance from him would have knocked his ego so far down that he would be getting his pension by the time he retrieved it. Oh no, he was too cute to let himself in for anything like that. It was just that they seemed to get on well together, pally like. And then she writes that letter to her father, saying that she wouldn't be able to come on a Saturday any more and perhaps she could see him in town sometime. Just like that, cool like as if she owed them nothing. But don't let her forget it, she did owe them something; she, in a way, owed them her father, for where would he be now if they hadn't Blenheim.

He moved restlessly in the bed now, turned on his side, brought his knees well up and his head down towards them, and he lay like this for some time before he muttered aloud, "It's me. It's not Mam, it's me.

Let's face it, it's me, because she accepted the fact that her father wanted to marry Mam all right, and when Harry put in for the divorce she was as anxious as any of us to know what her mother would say. It was from that Tuesday night when she came unexpected, she was changed then, acting like she did at first, quiet, offhand; yet on the Saturday she'd been gay like I'd never seen her afore. Then what happened in between? I did nothing . Aw no, it couldn't be that. "

The thought brought him on to his back.

"Because I caught hold of her?"

He stared upwards again remembering now the feel of her as his arms went around her and her face laughing into his, and he remembered thinking she could still be beautiful at that if she was happy. Her body had felt warm and soft and it trembled a bit, but he had done nothing, not even tightened his hold, he had let her go. Her face had been close enough to his to kiss. Not that he would have dreamt of doing that, but it had been.

When the front door bell rang he jumped as if he had been shot and, resting on his elbow, he stared across the darkened room. When it rang a second time he scrambled out of bed and into his slippers and dressing gown and went out into the passage and across the hall. When he opened the door there stood a policeman, and one that was known to him. Constable Tallow had been on market patrol when he first set up his stall.

It was the constable who spoke first.

"Hello, Robbie," he said.

"Sorry to get you up at this hour."

"It's all right, it's all right, but... but what's the matter?"

The constable paused for a moment, then said, "It's your shop. It's been tarred."

"Tarred?" Robbie's cheeks moved up until they almost closed his eyes.

"Tarred?" he repeated.

"What do you mean, tarred?"

"Well, you know, there was a carnival on yesterday and that's a signal for some of them to go clean mad. They were at it in the town until two o'clock this morning. They get up to all

Imagine that; one of them must have been a steeplejack . "

"But my shop, how tarred? What do you mean tarred?"

"I think you'd better come along."

"Aye. Yes, I think I'd better," he said loudly.

"But come in. Come on in a minute until I get me things on." As he closed the door and indicated to the constable to take a chair Harry came into the hall, asking, "What is it? What's the matter? I heard the bell." Then he stopped dead as he saw the policeman.

"Something, something wrong?"

His voice, his whole manner apprehensive, for policemen would always have an intimidating effect on him now.

Robbie, going quickly past him, said, "Shop's been tarred. Believe that?" Whati' As Robbie disappeared along the passage Harry went slowly forward and if the policeman was surprised to see Mr. Blenheim apparently living with the Dunns he gave no sign of it, but he said courteously, "Good morning, Mr. Blenheim."

"Good morning," said Harry.

"What is it, is it bad?"

"Well," the policeman jerked his head and said very softly, 'put a tar brush into the hands of somebody who doesn't like a Jew and you know what to expect. Though why anyone should have their knife into him puzzles me; he's well liked, and respected in most quarters if it's only for the guts he's got. "

"Yes, yes." Harry nodded absently; then his tone quickening, he said,

"I'll get dressed and come in with him." When he passed Robbie's room the door was open and Janet was inside and she turned her face towards him, asking, "Who would do a thing like that. Harry?" He didn't answer her but, looking beyond her to Robbie, he said, "I'm coming in with you."

Robbie made no reply. He was pulling on his coat now, and he said to Janet, "Don't worry; it mightn't be anything, just those mad hats letting off steam."

"Mad hats?" she repeated.

"With a tar brush 1' Within ten minutes Robbie drew the car up opposite his shop. He didn't get out immediately but sat looking through the window at what the headlights revealed. The writing started at the beginning of the wall three feet to the side of the window it crossed the window and finished up on the shop door. The letters were two feet high, and they said " Dirty little Jew'. The tar had run down the glass in streaks, and it appeared as if the words were crying black tears.

Then he opened the car door and stood on the pavement. Dirty little Jew. It was the word little that focused his attention. This writing was no insult to a race, this was a personal insult to a man, a little Jew. Twice as a boy John Blenheim had called him just that to his face: Dirty little Jew, and every time he had looked at him since his look had said, "Dirty little Jew." Since he could remember he had hated John Blenheim and the feeling, he knew, was returned with equal force. At times he had wanted to lather into him but, knowing how his mother felt, had checked his fists. The fact that Blenheim had for years been head and shoulders taller than him made no difference. He knew that given the chance, he could knock him out, and by God he would knock him out for this. He turned and looked at Harry and for a moment he hated him as much as he" did his son.

There were two policemen on the pavement now. One of them was saying,

"It must have been done between three and four because we had them cleared from round here just after two, and at ten to three I drove past and all was quiet."

"We can't do much until tomorrow morning when the school opens," said Constable Tallow now. He paused, then ended, 'this stuff takes some getting off. "

Robbie had not spoken one word. He now moved towards the door, unlocked it and, stepping inside the shop, switched the lights on. He looked round him expecting to find the furniture all defaced but it was just as he had left it last night.

The second policeman, stepping in behind him, asked, "Every thing all right in here?"

When Robbie didn't speak but walked away down the shop the policeman turned to Harry, who was within the door now, and said, "Enough to make a man mad when all's said and done. It's things like this that starts trouble off; this is how it started in London a few years ago.