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Oh no, thought Lai Chandra, oh no. Gods!No.It was made of a checkered woollen material,a very loud check. And round the neck therewas a collar made of some kind of long, limpwhite fur, Hke a feather boa. Gods! it was afeather boa, surely, stitched onto the neck. Heturned pale with anguish. The soft httle strandstickled his neck as Mrs Greenberger helped todo the buttons up. Lai Chandra's fingers hadbecome very stiff.'But it is surely—' he began. Should he mentionto Mrs Greenberger that it looked like awoman's coat?Mrs Greenberger seemed to anticipate him.'It belonged to Gus—fat is, Gustave, mybruffer, who—is no more. He came fromFrance to join us and died as soon as he gothere. He was never healfy. But always veryparticular about the way he looked. Alwaysvery smart. Fere now' she said, patting thecoat—'it suits you.'It was very long. It came almost down tohis ankles.'By bruffer Gus was very tall,' said MrsGreenberger. 'Such a tall man! You are not sotall. Still, it will keep your legs warm.'Lai Chandra flushed. He unbuttoned themonster and laid it carefully over a chair. Outof the corner of his eye he could see Dora, herhand over her mouth, squirming in the doorway.'Thank you Mrs Greenberger,' he said, 'thankyou.'Mrs Greenberger gave a broad smile. 'Ah—it is nuffing. I wouldn't want you should freeze,poor fing. Now, even when you go out in thesnow, it will keep you warm. It is a good coat,I tell you.''Yes,' said Lai Chandra glumly. 'Yes MrsGreenberger.'* * *As he stared down at the long red frankfurton his plate, and its companion piece, a singleround, red tomato, Lai Chandra rememberedthat there was something he had not done.'Mrs Greenberger,' he said, looking up, 'Iam sorry to have to tell you this—but mycheque is late again. I shall not be able to payyou the rent yet.'For a moment, Mrs Greenberger lookedblank. Then she gave a big smile.'Don't worry about it- Lally. I trust you. Itisn't as if I didn't know you. I am sure youwill pay as soon as your cheque comes. Don'tworry yourself now.' She gave him a searchinglook. 'You can't pay if you haven't got it.''Poor fing,' she added.Leaning her elbows on the table, her chincupped in her hand, Mrs Greenberger staredacross at the dark head bent over the plate.Early next morning, Lai Chandra decided togo out for a walk. He wound Indira's scarfcarefully round his neck, smoothed the endsdown, and put on his old brown jacket. Hewas just going out the gate when Mrs Greenberger'shead appeared round the door.'Lally,' she called, 'where is your coat? It'sfreezing out fere. Come back here, you sillyboy.'He padded up the path and stood there whileshe brought the coat and helped him put it on.'Thank you, Mrs Greenberger,' Lai Chandrasaid. Then he walked slowly down the street.He was not cold; he burned with shame. Hefelt awful. He felt like—a fur monkey on astick. Everyone must be looking at him. Hehung his head and shuffled forward. Snowbegan to fall. A flake lodged in the boa-collarand trickled slowly down his neck.Lai Chandra walked along by the river. Thetide was in. Little waves sucked dismally at thestones. Poor fing. Poor fing. He heard Dora'svoice in his ears. 'I wouldn't touch it with aten foot pole.''Scree,' called a seagull, flapping over hishead. 'Scree.' He watched it fly away down thecold grey river to the sea.No, he thought, no, I will not.He took the coat off, bundled it into a ball,and flung it as far as he could into the river.It swelled up like a balloon and sailed in adark hump, for a little way; then it began tosink. Last of all he saw the white collar, itsthin strands waving on the tide, slide beneaththe water.What would Mrs Greenberger say? he wondered.Let her say what she liked. WrappingIndira's scarf tightly round him, Lai Chandrawalked bravely into the snow.WESTERLY, No. 1, MARCH, 1968