Free An End and a Beginning by James Hanley

the long wooden table. An arm came over his shoulder. “Breakfast.”
    A mug of tea, a rasher of fat bacon, two slices of bread. “Hope you slept well, mister.”
    He heard the keys rattling behind him, against the Talon thigh.
    â€œAnd at any time,” Mrs. Talon said, “at any time, mister, if any of your friends want a room, just mention me. Talon’s the name. Ma Talon. Just mention The Curving Light. Don’t mind gaol-birds, don’t mind nobody much, so long’s they pay. Yes.”
    â€œYes,” Peter said, but he did not turn to look at her. He had seen her the previous evening, and once was enough.
    But she was there again, closer, bent over him. “What’ll you do, mister?”
    â€œI don’t know,” he said, more conscious of the weight, the height that towered above him.
    â€œA pity,” Mrs. Talon said, and went away, and he heard the keys rattle all the way through the enormous kitchen.
    He drank the harsh, strong tea. He felt the thick, hot fluid stick in his throat. And then he was quietly studying the other occupants of the table. Nobody bothered, nobody noticed him. He was just an -other. What to do now? How to pass the time, kill it. Not outside, not another walk. He had had enough of that. He would go back to his room and stay there. He would stay there until it was time to go to the boat. One and another got up and left the cavernous room. He was alone at the table. He had better see Mrs. Talon, settle things. There was nothing to pack, nothing to carry. A very much simplified journey. He got up and walked across to the stove, and stood staring at its red glow. Looking about him he knew that he hated this place, but at least it had served its purpose. Another visit to The Curving Light would be quite impossible. It suddenly struck him as very odd that anybody should be singing at this hour of the day, one of the kitchen helps, and a very young voice at that. Looking the length of this room he saw daylight at its end. Walking towards it he arrived at the open front door. He leaned against this, taking in great gulps of the morning air. People passed in and out, and each time he moved his body slightly to allow them to pass. Nobody spoke to him. He might have been one of the doorposts.
    â€œWhat shall I do until ten o’clock this evening?” He sat down on the step, and rested his head in his hands.
    â€œSee that man Delaney? Perhaps I’d better call. He seemed decent enough. No. I’ll see Talon, then go back to my room.” Behind him, at the end of another dark passage, a light was shining in the tiny room whose window was never opened. This was her room. Mrs. Talon appeared the very instant he knocked, she might have been waiting for him.
    â€œWell?”
    â€œThis room I’ve got, Mrs. Talon. May I have it for the day, I’m leaving around nine o’clock.”
    She only half opened the door, she leaned out and spoke. “Welcome to it, mister. Nine and six. Pay on the dot. And don’t you waste no damned light neither. The way people carry on in this house. Terrible, mister, terrible.”
    Peter fished out the money and placed it in her large red hand.
    â€œThank you.”
    â€œWell, that’s that,” he said.
    â€œExtras two shillings if wanted,” she said.
    â€œExtras?”
    â€œCurtain for the window, saucer for your ash, cup of hot for your shaving.”
    â€œThat room has a lock. Could I have a key?” he asked.
    â€œNo keys allowed. All doors open in this place, mister, none locked, never. Daren’t do it. Sailors start bringing their women here, can’t allow that, get in trouble with the cops. Nobody’ll pinch anything of yours, mister. Not to worry. Leave any valuables in my safe, charge one shilling, paper and envelopes sixpence if you want any, write in my kitchen. But no keys for locks. Anything else, mister?”
    â€œNo thanks.”
    Peter found his