'Demobilised?'
'Yes.'
'You've been in a long time, haven't you?'
'Yes. I signed on for an extra year.'
'A good-time Charlie, eh?' he jeered.
'I don't get you,' I said. But I knew what he meant. Living conditions had been pretty good at the end — much better than at home.
He gave a harsh laugh. 'You know very well what I mean. All the bright boys were getting out when I left nearly eighteen months ago. The only ones staying on, apart from the regulars, were the duds and the adventurers — and the good-time Charlies. That's what is wrong with our European administration. There's no real future in the job, so it doesn't appeal to the sort of men we ought to have out there. Well, which category do you put yourself in?'
'Of the three categories you mention,' I replied, 'I think I'd prefer to be classed among the adventurers.' My voice sounded sullen. I couldn't help it. I was angry. I wasn't going to tell him how I had hated signing on for that extra year, when I had seen so little of Peggy since we had been married and I had barely seen the kid since he was born. And I felt uncomfortable, too. In the old days I had managed to stand up to Engles; not because my personality was as strong as his, but because I knew my job. But to face up to his volatile and domineering personality now, when things were going badly, was too much. I wanted to rush out of that shop before he pried too deeply into my circumstances.
'And now you're back,' he said. 'Still running that tuppenny ha'penny little rag down in Wiltshire?'
'No, that went smash,' I told him.