Bugs in the Attic
Y next landlady was neither young ‘nor charming. But she had a very nice attic room, scrupulously clean; for the ridiculous sum of twelve-and-six. Twelve-and-six! I might have known. I would now. And I did very soon. Of this house-long since demolished -I still have the latch key. I moved in that evening but, because I was going to a theatre I didn’t unpack. That night I returned very late and very tired and flung myself into the little spotless white bed. How good it was! I was asleep in a moment. But in the night I woke and tossed, and went to sleep again. A second time I woke . . . and this time I wondered, because I usually sleep pretty soundly. The house was still. . . the little room with its leaning ceiling was flooded with moonlight. I buried my head in the pillow. But a third time I woke. And this time something strange took my attention. I was sure the wallpaper had been plain. But now, in the bright moonlight, I could see a pattern on the opposite wall. Not only a pattern » . » it was moving! A _ horrible suspicion grew in my mind. I leaped
out of bed and switched on the light. Yes, it was true. Bugs. Plain, straight, undeniable bugs. There was a washstand near. I grabbed the basin, filled it, stood in it, and pealed off my pyjamas into it. Then I reached for my hair-brush and brushed furiously. Very carefully I pulled a fur coat from one of my suit-cases-everything else, I felt, would, be contaminated — and-barefooted-I fled down the stairs. In the street I found a cruising taxi. " Please," I asked the man "will you go to the top of this house and bring me my things? Two suitcases, some clothes on a chair, some shoes beside the bed. In a basin of water on the floor you'll find some pyjamas. Wring them out and bring them too." Nothing surprises the Cockney. In two twos he was back with me — and smiling broadly. "Why now, Miss .. . they doesn’t bite everybody. They doesn't bite black people. Funny thing, that..." And so ruminating the old fellow climbed back into his seat and we set
out for my next abode.-
("My London:
A Roof Over One’s Head.’
Alison Grant
Robinson
2YA, March 25.)
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New Zealand Listener, Volume 6, Issue 146, 10 April 1942, Page 3
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390Bugs in the Attic New Zealand Listener, Volume 6, Issue 146, 10 April 1942, Page 3
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Copyright in the work University Entrance by Janet Frame (credited as J.F., 22 March 1946, page 18), is owned by the Janet Frame Literary Trust. The National Library has been granted permission to digitise this article and make it available online as part of this digitised version of the New Zealand Listener. You can search, browse, and print this article for research and personal study only. Permission must be obtained from the Janet Frame Literary Trust for any other use.
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