I Could Go on Singing

by John D. MacDonald

  “You must have scores of friends in London, just as you have everywhere else. You wouldn’t have been alone.”

  She looked in the mirror, then turned toward him with that special urgency of despair. “I’ve made such a mess of things, David. Maybe it’s not my throat, but there’s something. They say I have an audience in every city in the world. But I haven’t a home anywhere. All my life I’ve … I’ve been throwing away everything that really matters.” She shivered. “I’m so awfully tired, David.…” She tried to fight her way back toward casualness. “Who does your flowers? Miss Plimpton?”

  David was watching her closely. “Why don’t you sit down, Jenny.”

  She wandered over to the drink cabinet and looked at a picture of David in evening dress being presented to the Queen Mother.

  “Some sort of a ceremony?”

  “I was being given the OBE. One gets it for taking out precisely the right set of tonsils.” She ran her finger along the rim of the picture that was face down, knowing he was watching her carefully. “May I fix a drink?” he asked.

  “Thank you, no.” She picked up the picture and turned it over and looked at it. A young boy smiled out at her. The face looked vital and sensitive, much as David might have looked as a boy, she thought. “Why did you hide this from me, David?”

  “Hide it? My word, why should I hide it?”

  “Oh, David. Really. I saw you turn it face down.”

  “Then I must have hidden it.”

  There was a gentle knock at the door and Miss Plimpton entered at once, bringing Jenny’s coat. “Excuse me, Mr. Donne, but would you need me for anything further?”

  “Nothing more, thank you. I’m sorry, Miss Plimpton. It’s very late and I should have told you you could go. I’ll see Miss Bowman out. How does tomorrow look?”

  “The Clinic at 8:30 … the Williams girl … Mrs. Hurley at 11:45, with X-rays and Major Somerset at 12:15. And of course Miss Spicer in the afternoon.”

  “Thank you. Good night, Miss Plimpton.”

  “Good night, sir. Good night, Miss Bowman. May I say how much I enjoy your singing?”

  “Thank you.”

  When the door clicked shut, Jenny put the boy’s picture on the cabinet and looked at him, trying to find some trace of herself in him, possibly around his eyes. “Is he here, David?”

  “No. He’s at school. He boards.”

  “David. I want to see him.”

  “So now, at last, at long last, we come to the point, do we?”

  “Please, David, I swear to you I didn’t come here to ask that. I came to see you. I admit that. But now … I have to ask you … please let me see him.”

  “I’m sorry. You can’t see him. It’s that simple. You can’t.”

  Her own flash of anger startled her. “Why the hell not? Is he invisible? Is he an idiot? Does he have the plague? Is the school on the back of the moon?”

  “I’m sorry. It’s impossible.”

  She controlled herself. “Impossible is a word I seldom hear, David,” she said quietly.

  “I’m sorry it has to come as such a surprise to you.”

  “I want to see him!”

  “Can’t you comprehend what I’m saying to you? It is impossible. That was the agreement. That was the way it was arranged. Surely you remember.”

  “Yes. I remember. But do you want to know something? I didn’t know what that word ‘never’ meant. I didn’t know how that word could ache. I guess I thought … hoped …” She walked to the chair that held her coat. “The only real and true thing I ever created in my life … and then I had to let all of them convince me I had to …” She trembled, suddenly close to tears, turned her face away from him and fought them down. “Does he like school?”

  “He loves it, actually.”

  “Is he clever?”

  “Average, I’d judge. Better at Mozart than math.”

  “Musical, you mean?”

  “Rather odd if he weren’t, don’t you think?”

  “Perhaps, but I loathed Mozart.”

  “Jenny, you can be proud of him. Be satisfied with that.”

  “Let me see him.”

  “No.”

  “Just once. Please.”

  “And then what?”

  “Then nothing. I go.”

  After a thoughtful moment, David said, “Do believe me, Jenny, when I say I know what this must be costing you. And has cost you. I hoped, for your sake, there would be other children. If I thought it would make anything better for you, I would let you see him. But were you to see him now, it would merely make things that much more difficult … for you.”

  She started to put on her coat, listlessly. “I’ve barged in on you, kept you up, stayed too long. I’m sorry. I’d better go.”

  He helped her with her coat. “Have you a car waiting?”

  “No. I was going to get a taxi. But I think I’d rather walk. And I’ll let myself out. Don’t bother. You’ve been very kind, David. Thank you.”

  She heard him close behind her as she went down the narrow curving staircase. As they reached the reception hall he said, “Jenny?” She turned quickly and expectantly. He held out the prescription slip. “Don’t forget this.”

  She tucked it into her purse. “What will it cure?”

  “Perhaps it will help a little.”

  She wanted to smile at him, and tried valiantly, but the tears clotted her lashes, spilled.

  “It really would mean a great deal to you to see him, wouldn’t it?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Oh, yes.”

  “And if I should permit this, against my own better judgment, and mark that phrase, Jenny … permit this … do you promise on your word of honor that you will be content with that one meeting, and never try to see him again?”

  “I promise,” she said.

  There were tears in her eyes again as she looked at Jason Brown. “You see, I really didn’t know I was going to ask that of him, Brownie. Maybe I did know, but I hadn’t admitted it to myself. I told myself I was going just to see him. He’s a part of my life, maybe the biggest part. I bore his child. Maybe I love him.”

  “When does this happen?”

  “He’s stopping by for me early this afternoon. He rearranged his schedule. The school isn’t too far, really. Oh, Brownie, I’m so scared and excited! Lift this tray away, will you please?”

  He took it away and put it on the floor near the closed door. She swung her legs out of bed, scuffed her feet into her slippers, paced and smoked, pausing at the mirrors for the quick touch at her hair, the absent-minded examination of her face. She whirled and stared at him, her eyes very wide, “Tell me I’m insane.”

  “What was he like, really?”

  “There was a lot of tension. Undercurrents. Little memories of things past running through his mind as well as mine. And the fraudulent professional visit, with the Plimpton person standing there. But you see, don’t you, that he could have absolutely refused to see me at all? Even if he believed it was an emergency, he could have had another doctor there to see me. That’s what I kept remembering, that with all his reserve, and patronizing me as if I was some sort of idiot child, he still had curiosity about me. And it must have unsettled him, knowing I was coming. Otherwise, he would have hidden Matthew’s picture away before I got there. Brownie, darling, I deal with people under stress all the time, and they can’t hide all the signs. He couldn’t. Matthew. Isn’t that a nifty name? Matthew Donne. But they call him Matt. I wouldn’t permit that. What do you wear to go visit your boy at school? Look at me! Slow death. I couldn’t sleep, not for a minute. I don’t know why we couldn’t send out for good coffee in the morning, or see if Lois could make it here, maybe. Ida makes horrible coffee. And you remember mine.”

  “Essence of battery acid.”

  “Brownie, you sit there and you smile, and you are a dear gangling rumply old pet, but you’re not saying anything. How is your little girl?”

  “Frightening. She’s
a blonde, like Joyce. All female wiles and devices.”

  “Brownie, bless you, do you remember an utterly impossible day in Mexico City? What a slob I was? The tears and the drinks, and running away from you and nearly getting run down by a taxi?”

  “I remember.”

  “That was Matthew’s sixth birthday. And those days haven’t gotten any better for me. Worse, if anything. Every year I tell myself it’s just another day, after all. Brownie, what if the world took your little girl away and you could never see her again or write to her or know anything about her. How would her birthdays be for you?”

  “Wretched.”

  “Brownie, I’m right! Tell me I’m right!” She came and put her hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes, bending down toward him.

  “Jenny, if you were sure you’re right, you wouldn’t be asking me.”

  She backed away. “You are too plain damned smart about me. How did you get so smart about me?”

  “By loving you.”

  “My God, you’re slippery as an eel. When I try to get mad at you, you touch my heart. All right. I loved you too. We were good for each other, weren’t we? In all the hideous confusion of my life, Brownie, you were … you were a little island of content, and I cherish the memories. Be good for me now. Help me!”

  “No matter what I say, you are going to go see the boy. And it is going to shred you, Jenny. It’s going to stomp your heart raw. And then you are going to have to turn your back on him and walk away. And that act is going to take all the guts and pride and spirit you have. It’s a test of strength.”

  She walked slowly to the bed and sat and stared at him. “Am I strong enough?”

  “You have to be. You have no other choice, Jenny.”

  “It was a mistake to come to England?”

  “Of course.”

  She nodded. Her smile was wan. “But, you see, I had no other choice there, either. Do you know what I mean?”

  “I think so.”

  “I guess you better go now. Thank you, Brownie. I guess I am going to cry for a little while now, and then get dressed.”

  He stopped by the door and said, “Did you tell George where you’re going?”

  “Not even Ida.”

  “I better let them know, don’t you think?”

  “Anything you say. Just be sure to tell George not to try to set up anything for me today.”

  He opened the door, picked up the tray and carried it out. When he looked back, closing the door, he saw that she had turned to lie face down across the bed. He saw the yellow robe and her dark hair and thought she looked small. And lost, somehow.

  Ida was sitting by the windows taking stitches in the bodice of a glittering gown. She looked up, eyebrows raised in query.

  “The doctor is driving her out to see the boy at school today.”

  “The good Lord preserve us all,” she said.

  He put the tray on a table near the corridor door. “Ida, how was it for her, when they were making her give up the baby?”

  She looked startled and then she looked through him into the past. “It was a savage thing,” she said softly. “The money machine was breaking down and they had to fix it or the money would stop. So … they fixed it. Sometimes I wonder …”

  “Wonder what?”

  She sighed. “If we’re any better. George and I. All of us. Saying we love her. All this loyalty. But maybe it’s the life we want. The glamor machine? And we get our part of it and get used to it, then tell ourselves we’re thinking of her good. I don’t know. Eighteen years now. It’s a poor time to have doubts.”

  “It depends on what she really wants, Ida.”

  “Maybe, just for the hell of it, she wants to be a woman. George was in. You better tell him what’s going on. He’s right across the hall, and I think he’s still in there.”

  Jason Brown crossed the corridor and knocked on George’s door. In a moment it opened, Lois Marney looked out at him and opened the door the rest of the way. She smiled openly yet shyly, then greeted him and turned quickly away. She wore a gray-green shirtwaist blouse with long sleeves, a pleated skirt in a darker shade of green. George was on the phone saying, “… please don’t try to tell me that, Harkness. I am not interested in what a triumph of modern color press stuff you got over there. Believe me, I am interested in Jenny Bowman because I am paid to be interested in her, and the proof you sent me, I swear to you my first thought was you got mixed up and sent me a picture of Apple Annie. If it was my job to scare people away, I would say yes, we should use it. I wouldn’t dare show it to her. I’m telling you, you’ve got to make a new plate. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is. And I will have a good attitude. If it looks even a little like Jenny Bowman, we’ll approve it, okay?” As he listened, he looked over at Jason and winked. Then he said, “By Thursday. Fine. What’s that? Four tickets? Harkness, I could not get my own mother four for the Friday opening, but I can put a reserve on four for Saturday, if you don’t mind they aren’t real choice. They’ll be at the box office in your name. Right. Thanks a lot.”

  He hung up and said, “Lois, put down …”

  “I’ve got it.”

  George ran fingers through thinning hair and stared at Jason. “Don’t tell me. Let me guess. She and the doctor are flying to Cannes for a second honeymoon and we scratch the London engagement.”

  “He’s picking her up early this afternoon and driving her out to the school where the boy is.”

  George sat on the bed. “Now isn’t that just dandy! Picking her up here. And the press people hanging around the lobby, all ready to follow them out there. Maybe they can get some nice pictures of the three of them. Star reunited with giveaway baby. The indiscretion kid. Lois, you better go work up that stuff while I figure out how to smuggle her out of here.”

  Lois Marney stood up and picked up her purse and black cardigan and left.

  “I make it sound hard,” George said, “but it’s no problem. I’m just getting a little gun shy. And my gut is acting up. It’s like an old bullet wound. It anticipates trouble. Sorry I had to fold so quick last night.”

  “You left me in good hands, George.”

  “Lois is a good kid. Without her taking care, this whole thing would fall apart. Of course, maybe it will anyway.”

  “And you say she’s been with you over two and a half years?”

  George gave him a quick shrewd look. “Aha! The merchandise intrigues. You wouldn’t be trying to pump me, old buddy. My God, your face is turning red, Jase! I would have had to see it to believe it. I am sorry, pal, but you better just cross it off your list.”

  “She has other plans?”

  “Just say she has no plans at all, and nobody can sell her any plans. It all looks very delicious indeed. But all you get to do is look. I think she took too much of a bruise in that marriage. Maybe it knotted her all up too much. But you know this cruddy industry, Jase. Some experts have zeroed in on her and struck out swinging, much to their astonishment. We did a television special with Kirby King last year. He decided he wanted it, and he went after it, and I’d guess he hasn’t missed once since he was sixteen years old. He tried every approach he’d ever used or ever heard of, and I think he made up some new ones nobody had ever heard of before. Nothing worked, and he was getting pretty sullen about it, and finally he decided he would just plan grab her, figuring maybe that after she finished jumping and yelping he could gentle her down. But she didn’t jump and she didn’t yelp. She just went limp, and as soon as she had the chance, she brought the knee up. Kirb lost all interest in her forever. He hobbled around like a little old man for days and days. So you’ll have to figure out something else if you want to sweeten this little junket. It shouldn’t be hard, pal. The town is loaded.”

  “So is the Coast, George. And always has been. And I went that route for a while, and eventually it turns into the dreariest thing in the world.”

  “Jason, we are getting old.”

  He smiled at George. “A
nd I find it restful. When you get to the point where you have to stop proving things. So old, in fact, that I would far prefer an unsuccessful pursuit of your Lois Marney to a custom bed teeming with nubile little English lassies.”

  “You turn a nice phrase, Jason. A nice phrase. So be our guest. Lois is fun to talk to and fun to be with, and she won’t let you get in the way of the work she has to do. I shall even tell her you are a very nice guy. But it won’t do you a bit of good. Now get out of here because I have to get on the phone and do more battles.”

  As Jason Brown reached the door, George said, “Is that Jamison script as good as it seemed to me when I read it?”

  “George, it is so good that to force any other writer to read it is cruel and unusual punishment.”

  “It would be the best thing she ever did in her life?”

  “Beyond the shadow of a doubt.”

  “Maybe she knows that, Jase. Maybe she wants it. Maybe that’s the best hope we have.”

  five

  For Jason Brown it was a strange, aimless, restless day, filled with the tension of waiting. He envied George Kogan and Lois Marney all the detail work that kept them busy. Jenny, after four complete and frantic changes, had set off in a dark suit, cloth coat trimmed and lined with fur, a little mink hat and a big mink muff. George, properly wary of the British press, had intercepted the doctor at the desk, and then smuggled Jenny out a service entrance. He reported that the doctor looked a little younger than he had expected, quite a handsome guy, maybe a little too handsome. And Jenny had been pale as chalk, her hands shaking. They had taken off in the doctor’s Humber, the doctor driving.

  For George and Lois, the biggest problem was how to reschedule, without ruffling too many feelings, the press, magazine, radio and television interviews which had been set up for Jenny and approved by her—how to sense which ones could be safely canceled, and which ones had to be fitted into the scheduling of the following days prior to her opening. It required a combination of guile, judgment, flattery and good sense. And the throat problem, imaginary as it was, came in handy, and might eventually be of tactical use in explaining any association with Doctor Donne.