"Pohl, Frederik - Happy Birthday Dear Jesus (txt)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Pohl Frederick)

УI am sorry, Mr. Martin,Ф she said. УDidnТt Personnel tell you about Sundays?Ф
УWhat about Sundays?Ф
УI must have my Sundays off,Ф she explained. УMr. Crawford said it was very unusual, but I really canТt accept the job any other way.Ф
УSundays off?Ф I repeated. УButЧbut, Miss Hargreave, donТt you see what that does to my schedule? SundayТs our busiest day! The Emporium isnТt a rich manТs shop; our customers work during the week. If we arenТt staffed to serve them when they can come in, we just arenТt doing the job they expect of us!Ф
She said sincerely, УIТm terribly sorry, Mr. Martin.Ф
The six-year-old was already reaching for my hat. From the doorway her father said heartily, УCome back again, Mr. Martin. WeТll be glad to see you.Ф
He escorted me to the door, as Lilymary smiled and nodded and headed back to the kitchen. I said, УMr. Hargreave, wonТt you ask Lilymary to come in for the afternoon, at least? I hate to sound like
a boss, but IТm really short-handed on weekends, right now at the peak of the season.Ф
УSeason?Ф
УThe Christmas season,Ф I explained. УNearly ninety per cent of our annual business is done in the Christmas season, and a good half of it on weekends. So wonТt you ask her?Ф
He shook his head. УSix days the Lord labored, Mr. Martin,Ф he boomed, Уand the seventh was the day of rest. IТm sorry.Ф
And there I was, outside the apartment and the door closing politely but implacably behind me.
Crazy people. I rode the subway back to the store in an irritable mood; I bought a paper, but I didnТt read it, because every time I looked at it all I saw was the date that showed me how far the Christmas season already had advanced, how little time we had left to make our quotas and beat last yearТs record: the eighth of September.
I would have something to say to Miss Lilymary Hargreave when she had the kindness to show up at her job. I promised myself. But, as it turned out, I didnТt. Because that night, checking through the dayТs manifolds when everyone else had gone home, I fell in love with Lilymary Hargreave.

Possibly that sounds silly to you. She wasnТt even there, and IТd only known her for a few hours, and when a man begins to push thirty without ever being married, you begin to think heТs a hard case and not likely to fall slambang, impetuously in love like a teenager after his first divorce. But itТs true, all the same.
I almost called her up. I trembled on the brink of it, with my hand on the phone. But it was close to midnight, and if she wasnТt home getting ready for bed I didnТt want to know it, so I went home to my own bed. I reached under the pillow and turned off my dreamster before I went to sleep; I had a full library for it, a de luxe model with five hundred dreams that had been a present from the finn the Christmas before. I had Haroun al RashidТs harem and three of Charles SecondТs favorites on tape, and I had rocketing around the moon and diving to Atlantis and winning a sweepstakes and getting elected king of the world; but what I wanted to dream about was not on anybodyТs tape, and its name was Lilymary Hargreave.

Monday lasted forever. But at the end of forever, when the tip of the nightingaleТs wing had brushed away the mountain of steel and the Shipping personnel were putting on their hats and coats and powder-
ing their noses or combing their hair, I stepped right up to Lilymary Hargreave and asked her to go to dinner with me.
She looked astonished, but only for a moment. Then she smiled. I have mentioned the sweetness of her smil~. УItТs wonderful
of you to ask me, Mr. Martin,Ф she said earnestly, Уand I do appreciate it. But I canТt.Ф
УPlease,Ф I said.
УI am sorry.Ф
I might have said please again, and I might have fallen to my knees at her feet, it was that important to me. But the staff was still in the shop, and how would it look for the head of the department to fall at the feet of his newest employee? I said woodenly, УThatТs too bad.Ф And I nodded and turned away, leaving her frowning after me. I cleared my desk sloppily, chucking the invoices in a drawer, and I was halfway out the door when I heard her calling after me:
УMr. Martin, Mr. Martin!Ф
She was hurrying toward me, breathless. УIТm sorry,Ф she said, УI didnТt mean to scream at you. But I just phoned my father, andЧФ
УI thought you didnТt have a phone,Ф I said accusingly.
She blinked at me. УAt the rectory,Ф she explained. УAnyway, I just phoned him, andЧwell, weТd both be delighted if you would come and have dinner with us at home.Ф
Wonderful words! The whole complexion of the shipping room changed in a moment. I beamed foolishly at her, with a soft surge at my heart; I felt happy enough to endow a home, strong enough to kill a cave bear or give up smoking or any crazy, mixed-up thing. I wanted to shout and sing; but all I said was: УThat sounds great.Ф We headed for the subway, and although I must have talked to her on the ride I cannot remember a word we said, only that she looked like the angel at the top of our tallest Christmas tree.

Dinner was good, and there was plenty of it, cooked by Lilymary herself, and I think I must have seemed a perfect idiot. I sat there, with the six-year-old on one side of me and Lilymary on the other, across from the ten-year-old and the twelve-year-old. The father of them all was at the head of the table, but he was the only other male. I understood there were a couple of brothers, but they didnТt live with the others. I suppose there had been a mother at some time, unless Morton Hargreave stamped the girls out with a kind of cookie-cutter; but whatever she had been she appeared to be deceased. I felt overwhelmed. I wasnТt used to being surrounded by young females, particularly as young as the median in that gathering.
Lilymary made an attempt to talk to me, but it wasnТt altogether successful. The younger girls were given to fits of giggling, which she had to put a stop to, and to making what were evidently personal remarks in some kind of a peculiar foreign tongueЧit sounded like a weird aboriginal dialect, and I later found out that it was. But it was disconcerting, especially from the lips of a six-year-old with the giggles. So I didnТt make any very intelligent responses to LilymaryТs overtures.
But all things end, even eating dinner with giggling girls. And then Mr. Hargreave and I sat in the little parlor, waiting for the girls toЧ finish doing the dishes? I said, shocked, УMr. Hargreave, do you mean they wash them?Ф
УCertainly they wash them,Ф he boomed mildly. УHow else would they get them clean, Mr. Martin?Ф
УWhy, dishwashers, Mr. Hargreave.Ф I looked at him in a different way. Business is business. I said, УAfter all, this is the Christmas season. At the Emporium we put a very high emphasis on dishwashers as a Christmas gift, you know. WeЧФ
He interrupted good-humoredly. УI already have my gifts, Mr. Martin. Four of them, and very fine dishwashers they are.Ф
УBut Mr. HargreaveЧФ
УNot Mister Hargreave.Ф The six-year-old was standing beside me, looking disapproving. УDoctor Hargreave.Ф
УCorinne!Ф said her father. УForgive her, Mr. Martin. But you see weТre not very used to theЧuh, civilized way of doing things. WeТve been a long time with the Dyaks.Ф
The girls were all back from the kitchen, and Lilymary was out of her apron and lookingЧunbelievable. УEntertainment,Ф she said brightly. УMr. Martin, would you like to hear Corinne play?Ф
There was a piano in the corner. I said hastily, УIТm crazy about piano music. ButЧЧФ
Lilymary laughed. УSheТs good,Ф she told me seriously. УEven if I do have to say it to her face. But weТll let you off that if you like. Gretchen and I sing a little bit, if youТd prefer it?Ф
WasnТt there any TV in this place? I felt as out of place as an Easterbunny-helper in the Santa Claus line, but Lilymary was still looking unbelievable. So I sat through Lilymary and the twelve-yearold named Gretchen singing ancient songs while the six-year-old named Corinne accompanied them on the piano. It was pretty thick. Then the ten-year-old, whose name I never did catch, did recitations; and then they all looked expectantly at me.
I cleared my throat, slightly embarrassed. Lilymary said quickly,
УOh, you donТt have to do anything, Mr. Martin. ItТs just our custom, but we donТt expect strangers to conform to it!Ф
I didnТt want that word УstrangerФ to stick. I said, УOh, but IТd like to. I mean, IТm not much good at public enfertaining, butЧФ I hesitated, because that was the truest thing I had ever said. I had no more voice than a goat, and of course the only instrument I had ever learned to play was a TV set. But then I remembered something from my childhood.
УIТll tell you what,Ф I said enthusiastically. УHow would you like something appropriate to the season? СA Visit from Santa Claus,Т for instance?Ф
Gretchen said snappishly, УWhat season? We donТt start celebratingЧФ
Her father cut her off. УPlease do, Mr. Martin,Ф he said politely. УWeТd enjoy that very much.Ф