The vegetables suffered from that sogginess endemic to British institutional food (and rather too much British restaurant food), but otherwise the meal tasted all right. And the prices were amazingly low. Delmoleen subsidised its employees’ eating generously. Any sneaking hope he had had that the canteen might be licensed was quickly dispelled, and, to his amazement, Charles found himself ordering a cup of tea with his lunch. It must have been the influence of the environment, and perhaps his costume, as his actor’s instinct slotted him instantly into the role he was playing. Cup of tea, dollop of gelatinous custard . . . it made him feel as if he was back in one of those early sixties plays of social realism, something like Wesker’s Chips with Everything (‘The effeteness of Charles Paris’s performance left me suspecting that the RAF would have turned him down on medical grounds’ – The Huddersfield Examiner). Still, he thought piously, good thing not to be drinking at lunchtime – although the righteous sensation of having satisfactorily finished his day’s work deserved the reward of a quick one.
