Alice dozed a little. In her mind she was already living the next day. She waited for the light, which came in gloomily ¹ through dirty windows and showed the filth ² of this room. Now she ached for ³ tea, something to eat. She crept down into the hall which still belonged to night and the hurricane lamp; then into the sitting-room, hoping that the thermos might be there. But she drank cold water from a jug, then used, with pride but caution, the lavatory, thinking of the pipes ⁴ left uncared for over an unknown number of winters. Then she went to the Underground, stopping for breakfast at Fred’s Caff. There was room for eight or ten tables, set close. A cosy ⁵ scene, not to say intimate. Mostly men. Two women were sitting together. At first they seemed middle-aged, because of their stolidity and calm; then it could be seen they were youngish, but tired. Probably cleaners after an early-morning job in local offices. At the counter Alice asked for tea and – apologetically – brown toast, was told by – very likely – Fred’s wife, for she had a proprietorial air, that they didn’t do brown toast. Alice went to look for a place carrying tea, a plate of white toast that dripped butter, a rock cake. ⁶ As a concession to health, she went back to get orange juice. It was clear to her that in this establishment it would be best to sit with the two women, and did so.

They were both eating toast, and drinking muddy ⁷ coffee. They sat in the loose, emptied poses of women consciously relaxing, and on their faces were vague good-natured smiles which turned on Alice, like shields. ⁸ They did not want to talk, only to sit.

The salt of the earth! Alice was dutifully saying to herself, watching this scene of workers fuelling ⁹ themselves for a hard day’s work with plates of eggs, chips, sausages, fried bread, baked beans – the lot. ¹⁰ Cholesterol, agonised Alice, and they all look so unhealthy! They had a pallid greasy look like bacon fat, or undercooked chips. In the pocket of each, or on the tables, being read, was the Sun or the Mirror. ¹¹ Only lumpens, ¹² thought Alice, relieved there was no obligation to admire them. Building or road workers, perhaps even self-employed; it wasn’t these men who would save Britain from itself! Alice settled down to enjoy her delicious butter-sodden ¹³ toast, and soon felt better. Not really wanting the cold sour orange juice, she made herself drink it between cups of the bitter tea. The two women watched her, with the detached attention they would give to the interesting mores ¹⁴ of a foreigner, taking in everything about her without seeming to do so. She had quite nice curly hair, they could be heard thinking; why didn’t she do something with it? It was dusty! What a pity about that heavy army jacket, more like a man’s, really! That was dusty too! Look at her hands, she didn’t put herself out to keep her nails clean! Having condemned, and lost interest, they heaved themselves up and departed, with parting shouts at the woman behind the counter. ‘Ta, ¹⁵ Liz.’ ‘See you tomorrow, Betty.’

They came here every morning after three or four hours’ stint ¹⁶ in the offices. These men came in on their way to work. They all knew each other, Alice could see; it was like a club. She finished up quickly and left.

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1. gloomily : depressingly.

2. filth : dirt.

3. ached for : strongly desired.

4. pipes : conductors of water.

5. cosy : comfortable, welcoming.

6. rock cake : type of hard cake.

7. muddy : opaque, mud-coloured.

8. shields : protective or defensive instrument.

9. fuelling : feeding, getting energy.

10. the lot : everything that is available.

11. Sun, Mirror : populist right-wing tabloid newspapers.

12. lumpens : short for Lumpenproletariat, a derogative term used by Marx to describe the element of the working classes who were incapable of attaining genuine class consciousness.

13. butter-sodden : soaked in melted butter.

14. mores : habits, customs.

15. ta : thanks.

16. stint : workshift.

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