§ 2
The Man was Father.
Every morning mother called upstairs: “John: come on! Past eight”... and father said: “Just about to.” The sun fell in a slant over the table and climbed up the wall. Father ate porridge and milk: he went “Ooflip-oorooflip.”
The sunlight slid off the table on to the floor. There was nothing to do except listen to the clock. It went “tick-tock—tick-tock”—then it went “ticky-ticky.” ... The milkman said: “Mornin’, m’m. Lavly mornin’. Thenk you, m’m. Mornin’, m’m.” ...
The sunlight ran away....
The face of the man next door had a big bulge. Mother said it was called a goitre. You had them in Derbyshire. The man’s name was Jopson. All the street-children used to follow him singing “Old father Jopson”—like this:
There were other fathers besides old father Jopson. There was one whom Catherine had never seen. He was called “Ch-artinevin,” but he was not like old father Jopson....
Every night her mother sang:
Now the day is over,
Nighties drawing nigh.
and made her talk to our father, Ch-artinevin. Only Ch-artinevin never said anything in reply.
There were two places where little girls went to. One was heaven, the other was hell. Hell was hot, heaven was cold. Heaven was full of white tiles and marble-slabs, like a fish-shop. But hell would be far too hot for you even if you were feeling cold. It would be a pity to go to hell, especially in the warm weather. Sometimes her father said: “O Hell!” ...