He said, "I think things may be kind of different by that time."

She nodded slowly. "Possibly. I'd like to think they would be. Anyway, we'll find out pretty soon." She glanced at her wrist watch. "I must go, Dwight, or I'll be late for my test." She gathered up her gloves and her bag. "Look, I'll tell Daddy that we'd like to take the Customline and about thirty gallons of petrol."

He hesitated. "I'll find out about my car. I don't like taking your father's car away for all that time, with all that gas."

"He won't be using it," she said. "He's had it on the road for a fortnight, but I think he's only used it twice. There's so much that he wants to see done on the farm while there's still time."

"What's he working on now?"

"The fence along the wood-the one in the forty acre. He's digging postholes to put up a new one. It's about twenty chains long. That's going to mean digging nearly a hundred holes."

"There's not so much to do at Williamstown. I could come out and lend a hand, if he'd like that."

She nodded. "I'll tell him. Give you a ring tonight, about eight o'clock?"

"Fine," he said. He escorted her to the door. "Good luck with the test."

He had no engagement for that afternoon. He stood in the street outside the restaurant after she had left him, completely at a loose end. Inactivity was unusual for him, and irksome. At Williamstown there was absolutely nothing for him to do; the aircraft carrier was dead and his ship all but dead. Although he had received no orders, he knew that now she would never cruise again; for one thing, with South America and South Africa out, there was now nowhere much for them to cruise to, unless it were New Zealand. He had given half of his ship's company leave, each half alternating a week at a time; of the other half he kept only about ten men on duty for maintenance and cleaning in the submarine, permitting the rest daily leave on shore. No signals now arrived for him to deal with; once a week he signed a few stores requisitions as a matter of form, though the stores they needed were supplied from dockyard sources with a disregard of paper work. He would not admit it, but he knew that his ship's working life was over, as his own was. He had nothing to replace it.

He thought of going to the Pastoral club, and abandoned the idea; there would be no occupation for him there. He turned and walked towards the motor district of the town where he would find John Osborne working on his car; there might be work there of the sort that interested him. He must be back at Williamstown in time to receive Moira's call at about eight o'clock; that was his next appointment. He would go out next day and help her father with that fence, and he looked forward to the labour and the occupation.

On his way downtown he stopped at a sports shop and asked for flies and casts. "I'm sorry, sir," the man said. "Not a cast in the place, and not a fly. I've got a few hooks left, if you can tie your own. Sold clean out of everything the last few days, on account of the season opening, and there won't be any more coming in now, either. Well, as I said to the wife, it's kind of satisfactory. Get the stock down to a minimum before the end. It's how the accountants would like to see it, though I don't suppose they'll take much interest in it now. It's a queer turnout."

He walked on through the city. In the motor district there were still cars in the windows, still motor mowers, but the windows were dirty and the stores closed, the stock inside covered in dust and dirt. The streets were dirty now and littered with paper and spoilt vegetables; it was evidently some days since the street cleaners had operated. The trams still ran, but the whole city was becoming foul and beginning to smell; it reminded the American of an oriental city in the making. It was raining a little and the skies were grey; in one or two places the street drains were choked, and great pools stood across the road.

He came to the mews and to the open garage door. John Osborne was working with two others, and Peter Holmes was there, his uniform coat off, washing strange, nameless parts of the Ferrari in a bath of kerosene, more valuable at that time than mercury. There was an atmosphere of cheerful activity in the garage that warmed his heart.

"I thought we might see you," said the scientist. "Come for a job?"

"Sure," said Dwight. "This city gives me a pain. You got anything I can do?"

"Yes. Help Bill Adams fit new tires on every wheel you can find." He indicated a stack of brand-new racing tires; there seemed to be wire wheels everywhere.

Dwight took his coat off thankfully. "You've got a lot of wheels."

"Eleven, I think. We got the ones off the Maserati -they're the same as ours. I want a new tire on every wheel we've got. Bill works for Goodyear and he knows the way they go, but he needs somebody to help."

The American, rolling up his sleeves, turned to Peter. "He got you working, too?"

The naval officer nodded. "I'll have to go before very long. Jennifer's teething, and been crying for two bloody days. I told Mary I was sorry I'd got to go on board today, but I'd be back by five."

Dwight smiled. "Left her to hold the baby."

Peter nodded. "I got her a garden rake and a bottle of dillwater. But I must be back by five."

He left half an hour later, and got into his little car, and drove off down the road to Falmouth. He got back to his flat on time, and found Mary in the lounge, the house miraculously quiet. "How's Jennifer?" he asked.

She put her finger to her lips. "She's sleeping," she whispered. "She went off after dinner, and she hasn't woken up since."

He went towards the bedroom, and she followed him. "Don't wake her," she whispered.

"Not on your life," he whispered back. He stood looking down at the child, sleeping quietly. "I don't think she's got cancer," he remarked.

They went back into the lounge, closing the door quietly behind them, and he gave her his presents. "I've got dillwater," she said, "-masses of it, and anyway she doesn't have it now. You're about three months out of date. The rake's lovely. It's just what we want for getting all the leaves and twigs up off the lawn. I was trying to pick them up by hand yesterday, but it breaks your back."

They got short drinks, and presently she said, "Peter, now that we've got petrol, couldn't we have a motor mower?"

"They cost quite a bit," he objected, almost automatically.

"That doesn't matter so much now, does it? And with the summer coming on, it would be a help. I know we've not got very much lawn to mow, but it's an awful chore with the hand mower, and you may be away at sea again. If we had a very little motor mower that I could start myself. Or an electric one. Doris Haynes has an electric one, and it's no trouble to start at all."

"She's cut its cord in two at least three times, and each time she does that she darn nearly electrocutes herself."

"You don't have to do that if you're careful. I think it would be a lovely thing to have."

She lived in the dream world of unreality, or else she would not admit reality; he did not know. In any case, he loved her as she was. It might never be used, but it would give her pleasure to have it. "I'll see if I can find one next time I go up to town," he said. "I know there are plenty of motor mowers, but I'm not just sure about an electric one." He thought for a moment. "I'm afraid the electric ones may all be gone. People would have bought them when there wasn't any petrol."

She said, "A little motor one would do, Peter. I mean, you could show me how to start it."

He nodded. "They're not much trouble, really."

"Another thing we ought to have," she said, "is a garden seat. You know-one that you can leave outside all winter, and sit on whenever it's a nice fine day. I was thinking, how nice it would be if we had a garden seat in that sheltered corner just by the arbutus. I think we'd use it an awful lot next summer. Probably use it all the year round, too."

He nodded. "Not a bad idea." It would never be used next summer, but let that go. Transport would be a difficulty; the only way he could transport a garden seat with the Morris Minor would be by putting it on the roof, and that might scratch the enamel unless he padded it very well. "We'll get the motor mower first, and then see what the bank looks like."

He drove her up to Melbourne the next day to look for a motor mower; they went with Jennifer in her carrying basket on the back seat. It was some weeks since she had been in the city, and its aspect startled and distressed her. "Peter," she said, "what's the matter with everything? It's all so dirty, and it smells horrid."

"I suppose the street cleaners have stopped working," he observed.

"But why should they do that? Why aren't they working? Is there a strike or something?"

"Everything's just slowing down," he said. "After all, I'm not working."

"That's different," she said. "You're in the navy." He laughed. "No, what I mean is, you go to sea for months and months, and then you go on leave. Street cleaners don't do that. They go on all the time. At least, they ought to."

He could not elucidate it any further for her, and they drove on to the big hardware store. It had only a few customers, and very few assistants. They left the baby in the car and went through to the gardening department, and searched some time for an assistant. "Motor mowers?" he said. "You'll find a few in the next hall, through that archway. Look them over and see if what you want is there."

They did so, and picked a little twelve-inch mower. Peter looked at the price tag, picked up the mower, and went to find the assistant. "I'll take this one," he said.

"Okay," said the man. "Good little mower, that." He grinned sardonically. "Last you a lifetime."

"Forty-seven pounds ten," said Peter. "Can I pay by cheque?"

"Pay by orange peel for all I care," the man said. "We're closing down tonight."

The naval officer went over to a table and wrote his cheque; Mary was left talking to the salesman. "Why are you closing down?" she asked. "Aren't people buying things?"