In Pursuit of the English by Doris Lessing

restaurant over in Holborn right through the war, dear. I ought to know my way about. A real big restaurant. I had three girls working for me. Dan was in the navy. But I did all right, I can tell you.’
    ‘I’m sure you did, Mrs Bolt. Ah yes, the war was a difficult time.’
    ‘We carried on and did our best.’
    ‘Excuse me,’ I said, and began to go upstairs. Instantly Mr MacNamara came after me.
    ‘There’s a little matter we should discuss,’ he said.
    ‘But she’s fixed up, dear. Ever so nice, with us.’
    ‘Four rooms, kitchen and bath and a telephone, three and a half a week.’ I came downstairs again. ‘And there’s another matter.’
    ‘Can we see it now?’
    ‘I’ll take you.’
    I said to Flo: ‘if I can get it, I will. I really do need more room, you know.’
    She nodded, her eyes, now thoughtful, on Mr MacNamara.
    We two went to the door, and I heard her shrieking as we went out: Rose, Dan. Rose. Dan …
    ‘You know Miss Jennings?’
    ‘No, I don’t think so.’
    ‘You’ll meet her,’ he said darkly. ‘You mustn’t believe all you hear.’
    ‘Rose Jennings?’
    ‘People are not to be trusted. Not since the war.’
    Now he had me on the pavement, he was thinking out his tactics, while making a pretence at examining his watch. ‘My man won’t be in for fifteen minutes. I’ll take you to a pub near here. The best pub in London. They have nothing but vintage beers.’
    ‘That would be nice.’
    He began walking me fast down the street, into an area that had been laid flat. About five acres of earth had been cleared of rubble, and was waiting for the builders. ‘Nice job, that,’ said Mr MacNamara, nodding at it. ‘One bomb – did the lot. All that damage. Nice work.’
    We walked past it. Mr MacNamara began sending me furtive glances, sideways.
    ‘Know where you are?’ he asked casually.
    I had, because Rose had walked me past here, but I said, ‘No, I’ve no idea.’ His furtiveness cleared into triumph and he said: ‘These bombed areas are confusing.’ We had now walked three sides of the square, and he hesitated. ‘It’s not so far now,’ he said, and turned to complete the fourth side, which would take us back to our starting point at the bottom of the street the house was in. I walked willingly beside him, feeling him watch me. He was anxious, We had now made the full square, and he said: ‘Now do you know where you are?’ For a moment I did not answer; and at once a baffled angry look filled his eyes. His body was tense with violence. Nothing was more important to him, just then, than that I should not have seen through his trick.
    ‘It seems miles,’ I said.
    ‘That’s because you don’t know the ropes,’ he said, relaxing, the violence all gone. ‘Seen that building before?’ – pointing to a house a couple of hundred yards away from Flo’s and Dan’s house.
    ‘They all seem alike,’ I said.
    He nodded. ‘Mind you. I’ve been thinking, it might not be possible for you to see that flat this evening. But I’ll telephone to make sure.’ He strode into a telephone box, and went through the motions of telephoning. He emerged with a brisk air. ‘My client isn’t in, after all.’
    ‘That seems a pity.’
    ‘I’ll take you for the drink I promised, in any case.’ He applied a tender pressure to my upper arm; but lost interest in the gesture almost at once; his face was already dark with another pressure.
    ‘I’m taking you to this pub,’ he said, ‘because it’s famous.’
    We went into a glossy lounge bar, and he said casually to the barman: ‘I’ll have two of the usual.’
    ‘What’s your usual?’ said the barman.
    ‘I’m used to service,’ he began, but the barman had turned away, as if accidentally, to serve someone else. Mr MacNamara took me to a free corner table, and said. ‘This is the best firm in England. Their liquors are all vintage. You know what vintage is?’
    ‘No, not really.’
    Delighted, he said: ‘I do. I mix