Free The Furnished Room by Laura Del-Rivo Page A

product of the modern age would become a middle-class housewife. She would distract herself with bridge evenings, television evenings, coffee and chat in the High Street Tea Shoppe with women friends, and dances held by her husband’s firm. She would cook Italian food because it was smart. From time to time, one of the neighbours would fall in love with her. She would use Family Planning because of buying a car and keeping her figure; but because of her female desire for maternity she would eventually have a child. The child would be as dull and ordinary as she was. This was the girl whom he loved.

    When they left the cinema she said: ‘By the way, you couldn’t do me a great favour, could you?’
    â€˜I expect so. What is it?’
    She hesitated, then took the plunge. ‘I must have two pounds to pay the rent today, and I’m absolutely flat broke. I simply had to buy some new shoes, you see, because I’m going to a twenty-first birthday party tomorrow, and, well, I mean I couldn’t possibly go without new shoes. I mean, my other pairs are absolutely falling to pieces, they really are.’ Her eyes were anxious and evasive. She combed her fingers through her hair. ‘I don’t know how I can manage the rent otherwise. I spent the rent money on shoes. You know what I’m like about money.’
    â€˜Yes, that’s all right. I think I can just about manage two pounds.’
    She continued to stare at him. Her face was wan and half ashamed. ‘I know it’s awful of me, because I still owe you five pounds from way back last year. But I really will pay it all back some day.’
    â€˜That’s all right.’
    She took the money and stuffed it into her bag, quickly snapping the bag shut. ‘It’s terribly nice of you.’
    Embarrassed, he said: ‘Well…’ They walked a few paces and then stopped again. He said: ‘How about coming back to my place for a coffee?’
    Oh, she was terribly sorry, she really was. Her gestures were theatrical and her eyes honest-wide as she explained that she couldn’t possibly, not tonight, what a pity. She gabbled on, using too many excuses and too much vehemence, until he told her that it didn’t matter.
    He walked her to the bus-stop. She was still extravagantly protesting her regret when the bus arrived.
    Walking home alone, Beckett felt cheated and indignant. He had never considered women as existing in their own right, but only in relation to him. It infuriated him that Ilsa should claim a will of her own, that she should refuse to visit his room when he wanted her to. She should be grateful that he wanted her; she should replace her will with his.
    He knew that he would pursue Ilsa determinedly; but that even as he redoubled his efforts to win her, there would be a cold mocking voice inside him telling him that he did not really want her.
    He experienced, simultaneously, raging desire for her and the knowledge that he did not really care.

Chapter 5
    St Elizabeth's Church was in a suburban-afternoon road of identical dolls’ houses.
    A young married couple was out walking. The wife pushed the baby’s pram, the husband walked beside her, and an older child ran ahead, doing little skips. Farther up the road, Beckett heard a child screaming in one of the houses. Evidently the child, a girl, was being beaten. The hairs on his scalp prickled. He felt immediate sexual excitement, a sadistic pleasure. He wished he could see the child being beaten.
    Then his excitement was replaced by the more creditable emotion of disgust. He felt irritated at being subjected to the screams. Mentally he composed a short essay against beating children. This activity lasted until he reached St Elizabeth’s.
    The church was a new, yellow-brick