Short Fiction · A Man of Straw (2/2)

His wisdom seemed infinite. The more one drinks the more one forgets⁠—always vaguely.

“I began to wonder about Kate, and my little boy. She had not written to me for a long while, nor I to her, for that matter. I realised that the boy must be nearly three, and I had never seen him. Only a smudgy snap, taken in a back garden. I used to carry it about in my notecase. Then, one day Kate sent me a long letter. As she had not heard from me for so long she had started to take proceedings for divorce, on the grounds of desertion, etc. Also, she told me she had met someone who had become very attached to her and the boy. I gathered that she meant to marry him. Of course, there was nothing to say, she deserved any happiness she could get. I suppose the man had money, and, anyway, what sort of a father was I?

“I threw away the snapshot, there didn’t seem much point in getting sentimental.

“My luck changed after this; I thought life was going to offer me something at last.

“I won a lottery. It gave me a real thrill to have some cash in hand for once. I knew nothing about investments, but I resolved to make good, if such a thing were possible. I met some fellow who said he’d discovered a wonderful new process of photography⁠—too technical to explain⁠—but I took a great fancy to him, and we decided to travel back to England together, and start some sort of a business. He seemed thoroughly honest, mentioned the names of people I knew⁠—well, I believed every word he said.

“I was to put my money in this photographic affair, and make a fortune. I never imagined for a moment that it was a swindle⁠—I was completely taken in. We arrived in England, put up at the same hotel⁠—and then he vanished. Not a trace of him, nor my money. It sounds a faked, unlikely story, doesn’t it, but I assure you it’s true.

“After that nothing will ever surprise me again; I’m prepared for anything⁠—any mortal thing that comes along.”

Once more he became humble, small; he seemed to shrink into himself.

“Since then I’ve been unable to cope. I’ve spent my time running round, digging up old friends. People have been kind in a way, suggesting jobs, but nothing that I fancy. All a little degrading; you know how it is, if one’s been brought up in a certain way, public school and all that; I don’t know.⁠ ⁠…

“I’m lodging in Golders Green at the moment. There’s a girl there who’s been very sweet to me⁠—and I believe I’m fond of her. But, of course, the position is hopeless, and I hate ties in any form, I must be independent.

“It’s difficult, so difficult, to know how to use one’s life. If only there was someone who could really help, really understand.”

We sat for a while in silence. I racked my brains, wondering if my uncle could do anything⁠—if there was an opening for him in his office.

Then he leant forward suddenly, flushing a little, his eyes on his plate, and speaking in a low, hurried voice⁠—

“If you could possibly lend me five pounds.⁠ ⁠…”