The Ballad of Peckham Rye

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‘GET away from here, you dirty swine,’ she said.

‘There’s a dirty swine in every man,’ he said.

‘Showing your face round here again,’ she said.

‘Now, Mavis, now, Mavis,’ he said.

She was seen to slam the door in his face, and he to press the bell, and she to open the door again.

‘I want a word with Dixie,’ he said. ‘Now, Mavis, be reasonable.’

‘My daughter,’ Mavis said, ‘is not in.’ She slammed the door in his face.

All the same, he appeared to consider the encounter so far satisfactory. He got back into the little Fiat and drove away along the Grove and up to the Common where he parked outside the Rye Hotel. Here he lit a cigarette, got out, and entered the saloon bar.

Three men of retired age at the far end turned from the television and regarded him. One of them nudged his friend. A woman put her hand to her chin and turned to her companion with a look.

His name was Humphrey Place. He was that fellow that walked out on his wedding a few weeks ago. He walked across to the White Horse and drank one bitter. Next he visited the Morning Star and the Heaton Arms. He finished up at the Harbinger.

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