by Matthew Head
And then, when I didn’t answer—I didn’t know what to answer—she said with a kind of agonised intensity, “I’ve got so little time left!”
She broke her eyes away from mine, put her hand to her forehead for a moment, pressing the fingers hard against the temples, even shook her head as if to clear it, and then looking at me again she said somewhat more calmly, “I can’t help it if it sounds a little crazy. You’re the first man Marie Louise has responded to since we began this dreadful trip, and—listen, I’m begging you. She’s pretty, she’s really the sweetest kind of child, I’ve—maybe exaggerated a little bit in the things I’ve told you about her nervous state, and she—”
She seemed to have come to the end of her rope, but then she blurted out, “Hoop, we could arrange things together. I’d make it worth your while.”
I had been aware for minutes that there comes a point when your curiosity as a spectator reaches its limits of decency, and I knew now that I was in danger of going beyond it. Whatever Audrey was going to offer, I knew I didn’t want any part of it.
“What,” I thought, “exactly what in God’s name is she driving at? For some utterly crazy reason is she asking me to seduce the girl? Marry her? Just show her around?—no, that wouldn’t be anything to get all wound up about.” But whatever it was, the thing she wanted to tell me, and hadn’t been able to tell me because she couldn’t bring herself to put it baldly and flatly and shockingly, was that this campaign involved Audrey and me in some kind of mutually profitable conspiracy at Marie Louise’s expense.
That was the moment to shut her up, to get out of there and be rid of the whole thing. To this moment I’m not sure whether I let her go on to satisfy a morbid curiosity, or whether—as I like to tell myself —I knew that she was about to put me into a position where I would be able to protect Marie Louise, and that if I didn’t, God knew what kind of villain she might dig up to make this proposition to, whatever the proposition was going to be.
I said deliberately, “What’s in it for me?”
And it was exactly the right thing. She stood there stock still, then I could see her relax. Suddenly she was like an exhausted swimmer who finds he can touch bottom after all.
“That’s just it,” she said. “That’s very sensible, a very sensible question. There could be a great deal in it for you, a very great deal. It’s a practical world we live in after all, isn’t it, Hoop? At your age you’re not likely to fall romantically in love again—if you ever have been. If you married Marie Louise—I told you I was going to be direct, didn’t I?—if you married Marie Louise, together we could—”
She stopped, abandoned whatever she was about to say, and continued, “Think about this, Hoop. See Marie Louise again as soon as you can. I’ll do everything—everything I can to push things along, and we’ll talk again. And please try to understand. Believe me, this situation is just as fantastic to me as it must be to you. I’ve been so desperately concerned, and this does look so much like—so much like a solution that—that might work out well for everyone.”
“We’ll see how things go,” I said, because I had to say something.
“That’s all I ask,” Audrey said, “just that you give it a chance.” She moved aside now and opened the door. Perhaps it was because the tiny hall had closed us in so privately, and now the door was open on to a public space. At any rate she shifted again, away from the odd, intense and revealing person she had been for a few minutes, back into something more like her old artificial self.
“Well, it’s been quite an unusual afternoon, hasn’t it?” she said. She extended her hand and I took it, and she turned her head just a little so that she had to look out at me from the corners of her eyes. Not too effective. “You’ve been a dear,” she said, which was not at all what I would call what I had been, and withdrawing her hand, she closed the door and left me standing there.
“So have you,” I said to nothing. “An absolute honey.”
Downstairs, at the desk, I asked for an envelope and paper, and stood trying to decide just what to say to Marie Louise. I saw the switchboard light to 6-B flash on. I had just left 6-B. The operator listened to what 6-B asked for, and dialled the number. I was certain I caught the initials of the exchange, and I thought I caught the number too. It wasn’t one I recognised, but I had a hunch.
Just in case I was guessing right, I asked to see the telephone directory for a minute.
And sure enough, Audrey had gone right to the phone to call René.
I finished the note to Marie Louise, and on my way home I entertained myself by imagining some of the conversations Audrey might have just had on the telephone with René. There was the one that went:
“Darling?…Audrey. Listen, darling, d’you know a man around The Flea Club named Hooper Taliaferro?…Oh, no, darling, I wouldn’t call him that, in fact I think he’s rather sweet in his way. Ordinary, of course, but rather sweet all the same…Well, no matter. Listen, darling, he’s the one I palmed Marie Louise off on last night so we could be together. I told you…Yes, the same one, I’m certain of it, there couldn’t be two with that name and both members of The Flea Club. And darling—now listen carefully, darling, I’ve managed it again for another night very soon, but there’s a hitch…Well, I do my best, darling! well, I’m sorry!…Well, it’s just that he might possibly take Marie Louise to The Flea Club, mightn’t he, so hadn’t we better plan to meet somewhere else?… No, dear, of course I don’t care if he knows, but I’d hate for Marie Louise to find out until we…”
And the one that went:
“René?…Darling, it’s Audrey. I called about the cheese. I was horrified when I found it in my purse!…Yes, this afternoon! I thought I had deposited it for you days ago…Yes, darling, twenty thousand. I hope you didn’t run short in the meantime…But of course not, darling, not for a minute, I love to!…But no, darling, you mustn’t say things like that…but of course I do, darling, you know I do…Oh, darling, I…but…but naturally, darling, anything, all you have to do is to ask it… oh…oh, yes, I see…but…well, all right then, forty thousand.”
I sort of liked that one. Then there was one that went:
“Darling, I’ve waited and waited for your call. What’s the matter? Is anything wrong? Have I done something? I’ve been going crazy. Why haven’t you…”
Then there was a short one that went:
“Darling, I just called to say I love you. I love you I love you I love you I love you…”
That was a sad one. By the time I got home, I was about ready to cry.
CHAPTER EIGHT
MARY FINNEY LISTENED to my account of Audrey’s unusual proposition, sitting placidly and looking content indeed, in my most comfortable chair, with her feet propped up on my next-to-most comfortable chair. She was relaxed and happy, I could tell, and I suspected that at some time during my narrative she had surreptitiously loosened a couple of stays or some other kind of confining device, because she gave the impression of a slight but continuous spreading out and settling down, as she sat and listened.
When I stopped she said nothing, but continued to contemplate her toes, moving the big ones in a pair of reverse circles, at different speeds, experimentally.
Finally she said, “You called Audrey shrewd, once.”
“Shrewd or calculating or something of the kind.”
“She gave you that impression when you first met her.”
“That’s right.”
“She sounds mighty naïve to me.”
“Naïve?”
“Innocent as a lamb.”
“Audrey does?”
“Yes. This last bit, out in the hallway. She sounds to me naïve, scared, floundering and desperate. Especially floundering. What did she mean, when she told you she had ‘so little time left’?”
“Oh—getting old or something. Wanted to get rid of Marie Louise so she could have one last fling. Something like that.”
“If that’s all she wants, she could just let the girl go to he
ll. Wouldn’t have to marry her off.”
“Oh, come now. After all, she’s her mother.”
Dr. Finney grunted enigmatically. “You didn’t get the impression, for instance, that she was working against a more definite deadline—something she had to get done in a few days, or weeks, or something like that?”
“No, I didn’t. I didn’t even think of it that way. Could be, I guess.”
“And when she said it, she was looking, you might say, none too happy?”
“She was staring straight into a little corner of hell with her name on it,” I said.
“Pretty bad, was it?”
“Terrible. You know they have this special section down in hell reserved for women like Audrey. It’s lined with special mirrors and everywhere they look they see their faces enlarged so every pore and wrinkle looks like something on a relief map of the Grand Canyon. Their hair is always falling out and every time they reach for their lipsticks they find they’ve lost them somewhere. The imps in charge are beautiful young men but they don’t use pitchforks or anything, they just stand around talking to other imps disguised as beautiful young girls, and now and then one of them glances over at all the Audreys and says, ‘Look at that hideous old hag over there.’ It’s one of the worst spots in the whole place.”
Dr. Finney looked at me suspiciously. “My heart’s bleeding,” she said. “Where’d you pick up that stuff?”
“I’ve always known about it,” I said. “I thought everybody did.”
“Sure,” said Dr. Finney. “Now—did you make another date with Marie Louise?”
“I did.”
“Tell me about it. I’ll make the coffee this time.”
She got up and began puttering around with the alcohol lamp. “You know, Hoopy,” she said, giving me a nice grin indeed, “I’m having a hell of a good time.”
I called Marie Louise only a few hours after that talk with Audrey, and asked her if she could go to dinner with me the next day.
“I’d love to,” she said, and her voice was actually friendly.
There just wasn’t any point in going into her big change of heart, over the phone. The gap was too big. So all I said was “Good.”
“For that matter,” said Marie Louise, “I’m not busy tonight, and I’ve already eaten and I’m all dressed, if you want to come around and go somewhere. Some club or something?” She was being casual, very very casual.
I had absolutely nothing to do that night, and am not ordinarily much of a teaser, but with an advantage like this one I had to follow it through. “Gosh, I’m sorry, I’m busy,” trying to suggest a bevy of ballerinas, all begging to drink champagne out of my slippers. “It’ll have to be Monday. Is there any particular place you’d like to eat?”
“This place you mentioned the other night,” she said. “What was the name of it? A club or something,” and boy, she was a poor dissembler. She had a passionate interest in The Flea Club all of a sudden and she was trying to sound casual about it but the effect was about as casual as a ham actress involved in a big scene from Medea.
“The name of it was The Flea Club,” I told her, “and at the time, you said that if you’d ever heard of a place with a name like The Flea Club you couldn’t have forgotten it.”
She said awkwardly, “Well—yes, that was it, The Flea Club. Could we eat there?”
“No.”
“Oh, Hoop!” she wailed, in real distress. “Why not?”
“Because they don’t serve meals, Marie Louise. Anyway, nothing goes on there until ten o’clock at the earliest. If you think you can hold out that long, I’ll come around at eight and we’ll eat somewhere, and then I’ll take you to The Flea Club. All right?”
“Perfect,” she said, and then a little hesitantly, but picking up as she went along. “Look, I’m sorry I was so soggy. You’re nice to ask me again.”
“Think nothing of it. See you tomorrow.”
“I’ll be looking forward to it.”
“Me too. So long.”
“So long. And thanks—really.”
It wasn’t half an hour before Audrey called me. “Hoop—I’m so pleased.”
“That’s good.”
“I haven’t long. I have to get back upstairs. There’s no one with Marie Louise and I don’t want to leave her alone. I want to ask you another favour.”
“Go ahead.”
“I’ve some friends who’ve turned up unexpectedly and we’ll probably be out quite late Monday night. Can you give me any idea how long you’ll have Marie Louise out?”
“You mean you want me to keep her out late,” I said. I did not say, “So that you can have that much more time with René.”
“Well, yes, to be frank.”
“All right. I’ll keep her out until two at least. No guarantee beyond that.”
“Oh—Well, thanks, Hoop. Thanks so much. You’re a darling, really. Call me Tuesday and we’ll get together and you must tell me everything. I’m hoping for so much!”
I couldn’t help hoping for a little something myself, but not anything like what Audrey had in mind. All I wanted was a pleasant evening with a pretty girl who interested me more than I could figure out any good reason for. But it was apparent from the minute Marie Louise came down to the lobby that nothing was going to happen. She was polite. She was even friendly. Oddly enough, she seemed excited. But she wasn’t excited about me. Along about the middle of dinner, over the second half of a steak, I decided that the world was full of plenty of things good enough that I didn’t have to feel bad because Marie Louise and I weren’t striking sparks off one another, pleasant as that would have been.
So I stopped whatever small talk we were making and said: “Listen, child. You’ve got me feeling like your great-uncle. I’m willing to settle for that, but I want to know what made you decide all of a sudden why you were so eager to go out with me again. I telephone you and I hear you in the background telling your mother that you won’t you won’t you won’t and you won’t go out with me again.”
“But you called again, all the same.”
“Yes, I called again, but I suppose you know why. You must know that this is a command performance.”
It took her a moment to accept this, then she said evenly, “I hoped against hope you really called back of your own accord. Mother swore you did. But I suppose—did Mother—”
“Yes, Mother did, and here we are. Now shoot straight with Uncle Hooper and tell me why we’re here—from your point of view, that is.”
“All right,” she said, and I liked the way she stopped pretending. “We’re here because I’ve just got to go to The Flea Club and I didn’t know anyone else who could take me.”
“Sure. The Flea Club. The one you couldn’t even remember the name of.”
“Of course I remembered it.”
“You claimed you forgot it.”
“I know I did. That was just silly of me. I was trying to take advantage of you, and when I try to take advantage of somebody I get embarrassed about it and do something silly like that.”
“Marie Louise, I’m going to fall in love with you yet. Now let’s see where we are: you were suddenly just crazy to go to The Flea Club, which you hadn’t even heard of Saturday night, and you remembered I’d mentioned it, so you decided you had to go out with me again in order to get in. Is that right so far?”
She gulped and said, “Yes, that’s right. I’m awful.”
“On the contrary. You’re delightful. Let me get this straight: when Audrey talked to me she said you had decided I was pretty nice. The phrase ‘taking quite a shine’ to me was used.”
“I didn’t use it!” she said indignantly, and then tried to soften it with, “But you’re really nice. I didn’t realise it until tonight.”
“In an uncle-ish sort of way I get by. Look, I’m not hurt, I’m just terribly terribly curious. Will you please for Pete’s sake tell me what’s this sudden passion for The Flea Club?”
She took a deep breath as if she we
re going to do the next fifty yards under water, then blurted out, “It’s about Nicole.”
I waited.
“I’m just fascinated by her.”
I waited some more.
“And I want to meet her.”
It had worked twice. I waited again.
“That’s all.”
I said, “Nicole’s a grand person and I can introduce you. But you’re not fascinated by her, because you’d never heard tell of her until yesterday.”
“I had so!”
“You’d never even heard of The Flea Club until I mentioned it.”
“Well what difference does that make? My goodness, I’ve got all Nicole’s records, every one. I just didn’t know she was at The Flea Club, that’s all. My goodness, it doesn’t say anything about it on her records!”
“That’s true. How did you learn she was there?”
She hesitated on this one, then said, “I read it in a paper while I was having my chocolate.”
“Pooh. The Flea Club doesn’t advertise. It’s a membership proposition.”
“I know it is. This was in some write-up or other. Sort of a round-about-the-town thing.”
“Ma-rie Lou-ise…”
“Well, it was!”
“What was the name of the paper?”
“I don’t remember! Some little old paper or other. You’re giving me such a quiz!”
“Hm. Well, one more question, if you’ve got all her records. What’s the name of her accompanist and composer?”
“How should I know? Are they the same?”
“Usually. Now think.”
She sat there with her brows knit. Audrey had knit hers for me, and added five years to her age. Marie Louise looked about twelve.
Suddenly her whole face lit up and she cried out so loud that the people at the next table jumped and looked at us. “Groute! Antoine Groute! No—Croute!”
