Page 98 - sons-and-lovers

mother for suffering because his father did not come home
from work.
‘What do you bother yourself for?’ he said. ‘If he wants to
stop and get drunk, why don’t you let him?’
‘Let him!’ flashed Mrs. Morel. ‘You may well say ‘let
him’.’
She knew that the man who stops on the way home from
work is on a quick way to ruining himself and his home.
The children were yet young, and depended on the bread-
winner. William gave her the sense of relief, providing her
at last with someone to turn to if Morel failed. But the tense
atmosphere of the room on these waiting evenings was the
same.
The minutes ticked away. At six o’clock still the cloth lay
on the table, still the dinner stood waiting, still the same
sense of anxiety and expectation in the room. The boy could
not stand it any longer. He could not go out and play. So he
ran in to Mrs. Inger, next door but one, for her to talk to
him. She had no children. Her husband was good to her but
was in a shop, and came home late. So, when she saw the lad
at the door, she called:
‘Come in, Paul.’
The two sat talking for some time, when suddenly the
boy rose, saying:
‘Well, I’ll be going and seeing if my mother wants an er-
rand doing.’
He pretended to be perfectly cheerful, and did not tell his
friend what ailed him. Then he ran indoors.
Morel at these times came in churlish and hateful.