Walter Jeffries Character Analysis

We paired off. Maudie went on ahead with the tall man. The other looked at me sideways once or twice—very quickly up and down, in that way they have—and then asked where we were going.

‘I was going to this shop to buy a pair of stockings,’ I said.

They all came into the shop with me. I said I wanted two pairs—lisle thread with clocks up the sides—and took a long time choosing them. The man I had been walking with offered to pay for them and I let him.

‘She’s always cold,’ Maudie said. ‘She can’t help it. She was born in a hot place. She was born in the West Indies or somewhere, weren’t you, kid? The girls call her the Hottentot. Isn’t it a shame?”

There was a door behind the sofa, but I hadn’t noticed it before because a curtain hung over it. I turned the handle. ‘Oh,’ I said, ‘it’s a bedroom.’ My voice went high.

‘So it is,’ he said. He laughed. I laughed too, because I felt that that was what I ought to do. You can now and you can see what it’s like, and why not?

My arms hung straight down by my sides awkwardly. He kissed me again, and his mouth was hard, and I remembered him smelling the glass of wine and I couldn’t think of anything but that, and I hated him.

Soon he’ll come in again and kiss me, but differently. He’ll be different and so I’ll be different. It’ll be different. I thought, ‘It’ll be different, different. It must be different.’

About clothes, it’s awful. Everything makes you want pretty clothes like hell. People laugh at girls who are badly dressed. […] As if it isn’t enough that you want to be beautiful, that you want to have pretty clothes, that you want it like hell. As if that isn’t enough.

I took the money from under my pillow and put it into my handbag. I was accustomed to it already. It was as if I had always had it. Money ought to be everybody’s. It ought to be like water. You can tell that because you get accustomed to it so quickly.

‘Only, don’t get soppy about him,’ she said. ‘That’s fatal. The thing with men is to get everything you can out of them and not care a damn. You ask any girl in London—or any girl in the whole world if it comes to that—who really knows, and she’ll tell you the same thing.’ ‘I’ve heard all that a million times,’ I said. ‘I’m sick of hearing it.’ ‘Oh, I needn’t talk,’ Maudie said, ‘the fool I made myself over Viv! Though it was a bit different with me, you understand. We were going to be married!’

‘Well, I don’t need to be here either,’ I said. ‘I can get as much money as I like any time I like.’ I stretched, and watched my swollen shadow on the wall stretching too.

She said, ‘Well, I should say so—a lovely girl like you. And well under twenty, I should say. I’ve got a spare bedroom in my flat. Why don’t you come along and live with me for a bit? I’m looking for somebody to share with me. As a matter of fact I’d almost fixed it up with a pal of mine. She’ll put in twenty-five pounds and do the manicure and we’ll start a little business.’

‘Oh yes?’ I said.

‘Well, just between ourselves, I shan’t mind if I don’t fix it up with her. She’s a bit of a Nosey Parker. Why don’t you think it over? I’ve got a lovely spare room.’

‘D’you know,’ she said, ‘I never pay for a meal for myself—it’s the rarest thing. For instance, these two—I said to them quite casually, like that, ‘When you come over to London, let me know. I’ll show you round a bit,’ and if you please about three weeks ago they turned up. I’ve been showing them round, I can tell you….I get along with men. I can do what I like with them. Sometimes I’m surprised myself. I expect it’s because they feel I really like it and no kidding. […]’

She was sure she could get him to marry her if she could smarten herself up a bit.

She said, ‘Isn’t it awful losing a chance like that because you haven’t got a little money? Because it is a chance. Sometimes you’re sure, aren’t you? But I’m so damned shabby and, you know, when you’re shabby you can’t do anything, you don’t believe in yourself. And he notices clothes—he notices things like that. Fred, his name is. He said to me the other day, “If there’s anything I notice about a girl it’s her legs and her shoes.” Well, my legs are all right, but look at my shoes. He’s always saying things like that and it makes me feel awful. He’s a bit strait-laced but that doesn’t stop them from being particular. Viv was like that, too. Isn’t it rotten when a thing like that falls through just because you haven’t got a little cash? Oh God, I wish it could happen. I want it so to happen.”

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I sold my fur coat, I could give her ten quid.’

‘It’s not enough,’ Laurie said. ‘She won’t do it for that. My dear, she’ll want about fifty. Don’t you know anybody who’ll lend it to you? What about that man you talked about who used to give you money. Won’t he help you? […]’

‘Poor little Anna,’ making his voice very kind. ‘I’m damned sorry you’ve been having a bad time.’ Making his voice very kind, but the look in his eyes was like a high, smooth, unclimbable wall. No communication possible. You have to be three-quarters mad even to attempt it.

‘You’ll be all right. And then you must pull yourself together and try to forget about the whole business and start fresh. Just make up your mind, and you’ll forget all about it.’

I went and got the letters. I didn’t look at them, except the one on the top, which was, ‘Will you be in a taxi at the corner of Hay Hill and Dover Street at eleven tonight? Just wait there and I’ll pick you up. Shy Anna, I love you so much. Always, Walter.’

We paired off. Maudie went on ahead with the tall man. The other looked at me sideways once or twice—very quickly up and down, in that way they have—and then asked where we were going.

‘I was going to this shop to buy a pair of stockings,’ I said.

They all came into the shop with me. I said I wanted two pairs—lisle thread with clocks up the sides—and took a long time choosing them. The man I had been walking with offered to pay for them and I let him.

‘She’s always cold,’ Maudie said. ‘She can’t help it. She was born in a hot place. She was born in the West Indies or somewhere, weren’t you, kid? The girls call her the Hottentot. Isn’t it a shame?”

There was a door behind the sofa, but I hadn’t noticed it before because a curtain hung over it. I turned the handle. ‘Oh,’ I said, ‘it’s a bedroom.’ My voice went high.

‘So it is,’ he said. He laughed. I laughed too, because I felt that that was what I ought to do. You can now and you can see what it’s like, and why not?

My arms hung straight down by my sides awkwardly. He kissed me again, and his mouth was hard, and I remembered him smelling the glass of wine and I couldn’t think of anything but that, and I hated him.

Soon he’ll come in again and kiss me, but differently. He’ll be different and so I’ll be different. It’ll be different. I thought, ‘It’ll be different, different. It must be different.’

About clothes, it’s awful. Everything makes you want pretty clothes like hell. People laugh at girls who are badly dressed. […] As if it isn’t enough that you want to be beautiful, that you want to have pretty clothes, that you want it like hell. As if that isn’t enough.

I took the money from under my pillow and put it into my handbag. I was accustomed to it already. It was as if I had always had it. Money ought to be everybody’s. It ought to be like water. You can tell that because you get accustomed to it so quickly.

‘Only, don’t get soppy about him,’ she said. ‘That’s fatal. The thing with men is to get everything you can out of them and not care a damn. You ask any girl in London—or any girl in the whole world if it comes to that—who really knows, and she’ll tell you the same thing.’ ‘I’ve heard all that a million times,’ I said. ‘I’m sick of hearing it.’ ‘Oh, I needn’t talk,’ Maudie said, ‘the fool I made myself over Viv! Though it was a bit different with me, you understand. We were going to be married!’

‘Well, I don’t need to be here either,’ I said. ‘I can get as much money as I like any time I like.’ I stretched, and watched my swollen shadow on the wall stretching too.

She said, ‘Well, I should say so—a lovely girl like you. And well under twenty, I should say. I’ve got a spare bedroom in my flat. Why don’t you come along and live with me for a bit? I’m looking for somebody to share with me. As a matter of fact I’d almost fixed it up with a pal of mine. She’ll put in twenty-five pounds and do the manicure and we’ll start a little business.’

‘Oh yes?’ I said.

‘Well, just between ourselves, I shan’t mind if I don’t fix it up with her. She’s a bit of a Nosey Parker. Why don’t you think it over? I’ve got a lovely spare room.’

‘D’you know,’ she said, ‘I never pay for a meal for myself—it’s the rarest thing. For instance, these two—I said to them quite casually, like that, ‘When you come over to London, let me know. I’ll show you round a bit,’ and if you please about three weeks ago they turned up. I’ve been showing them round, I can tell you….I get along with men. I can do what I like with them. Sometimes I’m surprised myself. I expect it’s because they feel I really like it and no kidding. […]’

She was sure she could get him to marry her if she could smarten herself up a bit.

She said, ‘Isn’t it awful losing a chance like that because you haven’t got a little money? Because it is a chance. Sometimes you’re sure, aren’t you? But I’m so damned shabby and, you know, when you’re shabby you can’t do anything, you don’t believe in yourself. And he notices clothes—he notices things like that. Fred, his name is. He said to me the other day, “If there’s anything I notice about a girl it’s her legs and her shoes.” Well, my legs are all right, but look at my shoes. He’s always saying things like that and it makes me feel awful. He’s a bit strait-laced but that doesn’t stop them from being particular. Viv was like that, too. Isn’t it rotten when a thing like that falls through just because you haven’t got a little cash? Oh God, I wish it could happen. I want it so to happen.”

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I sold my fur coat, I could give her ten quid.’

‘It’s not enough,’ Laurie said. ‘She won’t do it for that. My dear, she’ll want about fifty. Don’t you know anybody who’ll lend it to you? What about that man you talked about who used to give you money. Won’t he help you? […]’

‘Poor little Anna,’ making his voice very kind. ‘I’m damned sorry you’ve been having a bad time.’ Making his voice very kind, but the look in his eyes was like a high, smooth, unclimbable wall. No communication possible. You have to be three-quarters mad even to attempt it.

‘You’ll be all right. And then you must pull yourself together and try to forget about the whole business and start fresh. Just make up your mind, and you’ll forget all about it.’

I went and got the letters. I didn’t look at them, except the one on the top, which was, ‘Will you be in a taxi at the corner of Hay Hill and Dover Street at eleven tonight? Just wait there and I’ll pick you up. Shy Anna, I love you so much. Always, Walter.’