Free The German Numbers Woman by Alan Sillitoe

world.’
    â€˜But you liked your work?’
    â€˜Sure. It was enjoyable being at sea, but better still on land, eventually.’ So she was a lonely woman, full of unshed liveliness, looking after her disabled husband, a fate as dull as death. ‘But I’ve never had any reason to complain about my existence.’
    â€˜Neither have I.’ She was a little too definite about that. ‘And neither does my husband.’ Talking so openly surprised and pleased her. Even with the vicar at church her conversation had been distant. It was hard enough with Howard at times, to unravel words from the stone within. What would he say when he knew she’d met such a pleasant man?
    â€˜All the same, he sounds something of a hero for not complaining. People whine too much these days. They don’t know they’re born. I only hope I’d be the same as your husband.’
    â€˜People have to be, when it comes down to it. He has his black moments, usually when there’s an east wind like today. He tries hard to keep it to himself, but of course, I’d know, wouldn’t I?’
    You poor woman, married to a wind vane and barometer rolled into one, sometimes the same with him, though nothing a few pints wouldn’t cure. He supposed they lived on a pension, and couldn’t afford to drink. She was modestly dressed, but attractive all the same. For a few bob these days you could get rigged out from an Oxfam shop. Amanda was wearing such stuff when he first met her, and she looked stunning. The handbag might have come from a charity shop, unless she loved the style because it reminded her of better days. ‘It’s certainly not the time to be at sea. Can I get you another?’
    â€˜I ought to be going. Thank you again for fixing my wheel.’
    â€˜I enjoyed a bit of work. You made my day.’ To touch her hand was definitely not on. He drew her chair back so that she could stand.
    If I were married to a man who could see, this is what it would be like, she thought. ‘There’s just one thing I would like to ask you.’
    He opened the door. ‘What’s that?’
    They stood in the porch, looking at the rain, and wondering about each other. ‘I really don’t know how to put it. I’m not used to asking favours, not of a person I’ve just met.’
    Such punctiliousness would have been irritating in someone else. He wondered what she wanted him to do, but decided he would do it anyway, though would it be obscene or obsequious? She obviously expected him to run a mile. He detected a layer of ice over the turbulent sea inside, but if he walked on it he would fall through. Did she know how icily charming she was, how flagrantly attractive? Married or not, he wanted her telephone number, but it would be stupid to ask. ‘All you have to do is speak.’
    â€˜I know.’ She felt seventeen again, gauche, uncertain, too proud perhaps. ‘If it’s completely outrageous, just say so, and I’ll understand.’
    He took time to light a cigarette. ‘What, then?’
    â€˜You can imagine my husband is a desperately lonely man at times, though he wouldn’t agree. He wouldn’t like to hear me say so, either. But I wondered if you would call some time, and talk to him about wireless. Even send something on his little apparatus.’
    He’d sensed what was coming. ‘I see.’
    â€˜I told you it was a mad idea.’ She trawled the car keys from her handbag, knowing that indeed it was, though she felt no shame, rather glad at not having been too stiff-necked to ask, all part of the ease of meeting him. ‘Don’t worry about it. I’ll be going now. It really has been nice talking to you. And you were so very good to help me with the wheel.’
    He would, in the classic phrase, blow his cover. Or he might not, with so much experience in telling untruths. Amanda knew him as the epitome of slyness.