A Five Year Sentence by Bernice Rubens Page B

it clear. He did not respond and she held a sulking silence till they reached the park. They were approaching a wooden bench. ‘Shall we sit down?’ he said. He rarely made any positive suggestion. He must be tired, shethought, and she appreciated that a sedentary position was conducive to the fulfilment of the diary’s order. He dusted the seat with his gloved hand, then dusted the glove on his shoe. He waited for her to seat herself first and she chose the middle of the bench to minimise the possible distance between them. But Brian made the most of the minimum, and sat himself in the corner. She continued to sulk. Occasionally Brian thought of breaking the silence between them. He suddenly remembered that he’d forgotten to return the library books. His mother would be angry but it would give him an excuse to visit the library again. Tomorrow, perhaps. ‘Are you busy tomorrow?’ he ventured.
    The question delighted her, but she was at pains not to show it.
    â€˜Can’t you see I’m upset?’ she said.
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘but what can I do?’ He regretted it the moment it was put, fearing that she might make a suggestion that he was totally incapable of acting upon. Miss Hawkins saw the opening and took the plunge. ‘You can give me a kiss,’ she said.
    In his rare and tepid courting experiences Brian had a meagre repertoire, and kissing was not part of it. The act almost repelled him. He was always at pains to avoid it, for it seemed to preclude other activities which he found more enjoyable. He regarded all sexual activities as pleasurably filthy, whereas a kiss was clean and virtuous and reserved only for family. A kiss was legal, and it had no more place in a sexual encounter than a saint in a den of thieves. Still, it would have been insulting to refuse, so he screwed up his eyes and leaning over, he aimed at the presentation of Miss Hawkins’ cheek. And a second prior to his movement, mindful of obedience to the letter, she had the cunning to turn her head, so that the target became her mouth. Brian’s eyes were defensively shut and for him the texture between lip and cheek was indistinguishable. He leaned back on the bench and opened his eyes. Miss Hawkins was now ready to get up and go straight home and wallow in the joy of red ticking. It had, without doubt, been the most perilous order to date, andsplendidly, she had done her duty. She got up and he followed her.
    â€˜I’m not busy tomorrow,’ she said.
    â€˜Well, I’ll be at the library at three o’clock. Will you be there?’
    â€˜Yes,’ she said. Then, after a pause, ‘Shall we go to the pictures?’
    â€˜It’s difficult to be out so long.’
    â€˜Tell her you’re going to the dentist,’ she said with sudden inspiration.
    He shrugged at the ineptness of the lie, and laughed a little, baring enough of his teeth to reveal in their falseness that a dentist’s services had long been disposed of.
    â€˜Or your doctor,’ she added hastily.
    â€˜I’ll think of something.’
    They had reached the bus stop and Miss Hawkins was anxious to get home.
    â€˜She’d have a blue fit if she knew.’
    â€˜She sounds a right old dragon,’ Miss Hawkins said, and added quickly, ‘A fairy-tale dragon, I mean.’
    â€˜She’s all right,’ he said defensively. ‘She’s had a rough time.’
    Miss Hawkins was glad to see his bus in the distance. She was in no mood to argue his mother’s virtues. She hated her, however much Brian chose to defend her. She saw her as an incontinent obstacle to the title of Mrs Jean Watts and she felt her fists clenching as she day-dreamed herself to the old woman’s funeral.
    She saw Brian on to the bus, and when he wasn’t looking, she blew him a kiss. She decided to walk home slowly, savouring the anticipation of the red tick. She re-capped on each