Stephen Morris by Nevil Shute Page A

on the fuselage of the fighter, and recounted the interview.
    ‘And you told him he could come,’ said Bateman.
    ‘Yes,’ said Rawdon, ‘I told him he could come. Fact is, I like the look of him, and there’s no denying that a regular resident pilot would be useful.’
    ‘I thought you said there wasn’t enough work for a regular pilot.’
    ‘There isn’t,’ said the designer. ‘But a pilot who can do something else as well is another matter.’
    ‘See how he shapes,’ suggested the partner.
    ‘Yes,’ said Rawdon, ‘we must see how he shapes.’

Chapter Four
    Morris made his way back to London on top of the tram. Things had gone well, as well as could be expected; he had got his nose into another and more permanent side of the industry, something in which there were real prospects. At the moment, of course, it was unlikely that he would get a job on the design side; still, if he could continue to work there and make enough by casual piloting to keep himself in a modest way, he might in time be able to insinuate himself into the office of some firm. He had made a satisfactory start, anyway.
    Back in the hut that evening, he told them all about it.
    ‘He asked about the piloting himself, did he?’ said Riley thoughtfully. ‘Play that well; it’s evidently your best line at the moment.’
    ‘I think he’s done pretty well out of the whole business, if you ask me,’ said Stenning. ‘Wish I had the luck some people have.’
    ‘It doesn’t mean anything but casual work,’ said Morris.
    ‘He hasn’t got any other pilots there, has he?’ asked Stenning.
    ‘Don’t think so,’ said Morris taking off his boots by the stove.
    ‘Well then, you’ll be chief pilot, test pilot if you like, to the Rawdon Aircraft Company Limited.’
    Morris glanced at him quickly, one boot on and one off. Then he realised that his leg was being pulled, and made the appropriate comment.
    ‘No, really,’ said Riley, ‘that’s what it may come to if you can work it properly. I don’t see at all why it shouldn’t. Rawdon gave up flying himself last year, I heard. And he’s been getting in casual pilots, you say?’
    Morris did not answer the question. ‘Don’t know if you call delivering Rabbits and Ratcatchers test flying,’ he said sourly. ‘Nothing to test.’
    ‘No satisfying some people,’ said Stenning.
    Morris picked up his boots and went to put them in a corner, treading delicately in his stockinged feet. He turned and spoke bitterly over his shoulder to Stenning.
    ‘Never seen such a ragtime show in all my life as that. I told you that the hall porter was a little girl eating an apple, didn’t I?’
    ‘Very nice too,’ said Riley. ‘Symbol of innocence. Besides, it’s aviation.’
    Morris laughed. ‘It’s aviation all over,’ he said.
    That week the receipts dropped sharply, though there was still a slight surplus to divide. Things the week after were better again, and worse the following week, when there was not sufficient to cover the statutory limit for depreciation and spares.
    Then the crowning blow fell, with dramatic suddenness. One morning they became aware of strangers in the land, odd people wandering about the aerodrome. The caretaker announced that they were workmen from the Air Ministry, come to see about the buildings. A brief reconnaissance revealed the fact that they had commenced to remove the roof, door, and window-frames from one of the hangars; that they were proposing to treat every building in the place in a similar manner, and that the material was to be re-erected in an Air Force station on the other side of the Solent, where it was needed more urgently.
    ‘We’re done,’ said Riley when this was reported tohim. ‘This is the end of us. We’ve got no legal tenure here – we’ve only had this place on sufferance.’
    They decided not to dispute the edict, but to shut up shop and go. Riley had heard from his firm at Brooklands, who regretted that they had nothing to