Beggars May Sing

by Sara Seale

  "Oh!"

  She was terribly distressed. Mark had come tonight principally because she had asked him to. She remembered him saying: "Will you sit out with me if I do?" And her quick reply: "I'd sit out every dance with you if it would give you pleasure."

  "I'm terribly sorry! I forgot all about it, truly I did."

  "Obviously!"

  "I mean, I didn't cut them on purpose. I just forgot."

  "You were very much otherwise engaged, weren't you, Gina?" he said kindly, but the words stung her, sore as she already was. "Never mind, my dear. When you're out of things as much as I have to be, you become resigned to being passed over in the end."

  She discovered for the first time that he could hurt her. She sat beside him miserably silent, longing to burst into tears. He made no further effort to help her out, and they sat speechless until someone came and asked her for a dance.

  It was nearly one o'clock when Mark came to find her to say they were going.

  "Swann's quite ready to go himself," he told her, "so you won't be long after us. I can't find Evan, but will you tell him?"

  Neither could Gina find Evan, and finally she ran into Victor, who said casually:

  "Hunter went about half an hour ago. The Pratts gave him a lift."

  "Then there's just you and me left?"

  "Just the two of us. We'll have a nice little run home all on our own," he said pleasantly.

  Gina felt wretched. Everything had gone wrong tonight, and she didn't look forward to a long drive with Victor as sole companion.

  "When do you want to start?" she asked.

  "Oh, there's no hurry. Come and have a dance first. I've hardly seen you all the evening. So taken up with that handsome young fellow, weren't you? And what, might one ask, is he doing going home with the lovely Miss Pratt and leaving his poor little partner to the tender mercies of the ogre?"

  "Oh, don't be sillier than you can help," said Gina wearily, and prepared to dance with him.

  When the music stopped, he said they might think about going.

  "You run along and get your things, and wait for me in the lounge. I'm going to have a quick one before we go."

  "The bar will be closed. It's after hours," Gina said. He had already had as much as was good for him.

  "Don't you worry, my dear. Bye-bye—see you later."

  She had been sitting in the draughty lounge for nearly half an hour when he finally appeared, not too steady on his legs, and his arm through that of a strange man.

  "This is old Bingo Banks," he said expansively. "We knew each other in the old days. Fancy meeting him here! We had some times together, didn't we, Bingo, old man?"

  "Good times, old boy," said Mr. Banks solemnly.

  "Swanny is one of the best Miss—Miss—yes, well as I was saying, old boy—"

  They stood talking aimlessly about old days, and slapping each other on the back. It eventually appeared that they were to give Mr. Banks a lift on the way. He was staying at a small hotel between Eastcliff and Westham Street, and had got separated from the rest of his party. They all three packed into the front seats of the Bentley, Gina squeezed between the two men.

  The roads were slippery, and Victor, driving with his usual dashing carelessness, had many skids which sent Gina's heart into her month. Finally she became resigned. if they were going to be killed, they would be, and, any-

  way, it was a fitting end to the evening.

  They arrived without mishap at Mr. Banks' hotel, and invited them in.

  "Just another little drink to cheer you on your way. Got plenty upstairs," he said persuasively.

  "I don't think—" began Gina, but Victor cut her short.

  "Oh, come on, Gina. We won't be long. I could do with something."

  Gina got out of the car with resignation, and followed the two men in.

  The place was in darkness, and when Mr. Banks fumbled for the lights, she saw that it was a small country hotel of the sporting type. Everything was very plain and ugly, and the walls were hung with the masks and brushes of foxes, and stuffed fish in glass cases.

  Gina sat down on one of the red plush chairs. "I'll wait for you here," she said.

  "Oh no, that wouldn't do at all," said Mr. Banks in scandalized accents. "Supposing anyone came down, and found you sitting all alone in the hall at half-past one! That would never do, old boy—Miss Gale, I mean."

  Through past experience with her father, Gina had long ago learnt that it was easier to agree with a slightly drunk man than to argue, so she got up again, and followed them up the dark stairs.

  Mr. Banks had a small private sitting-room with a bed-room opening off, and here again everything was very plain and ugly.

  "Sorry there's no fire—bit late you know," he apologized. All his glasses appeared to be dirty and stood in a sordid collection on the sideboard with various empty bottles. But he eventually unearthed some tumblers and a bottle of whisky, and they sat down on more red plush chairs.

  Victor was just beginning to enjoy himself. Gina's reluctance enchanted him. He could bait her as much as he liked; she couldn't run away from him now.

  "Enjoying yourself, Gina?" he asked her.

  "Not particularly," she said shortly.

  "Oh! How's that? With two attentive admirers like Bingo and myself at your disposal. Perhaps you're hankering after your defaulting young man?"

  Gina said nothing.

  "Sulky now! That was always your pet defence. Well, you mustn't be a sulky girl with me. I don't like it, and I might have to punish you for it."

  For the first time she looked afraid. Victor saw it and settled down to his game.

  "I'm rather fond of our little friend," he said to Mr. Banks and speaking with alcoholic solemnity. "And she should be fond of me, but for some reason she prefers my good host. Did you have a jolly party all alone with Proctor New Year's Eve, Gina? It was just about this hour too, and no one in the house but yourselves."

  "Isn't it time we started back?" said Gina quietly.

  "Not so fast, my dear. You won't get out of it that way. I must say I felt very hurt that you should favour Proctor when you pretended to me that you couldn't be touched. However, that's all changed now, isn't it? This is a good opportunity to make up our differences. Bingo, my dear chap, I know you would like to be the means of bringing us together again." He winked at his friend, who ever ready to oblige, mistook the signal, and rising unsteadily to his feet said:

  "Delighted, my dear old boy." He tucked the bottle of whisky under his arm, and left the room with a parting, "See you later!"

  As Gina sprang to her feet, she heard the key turn in the lock. "What did he do that for?" she cried wildly.

  Victor watched her curiously. "He was a little quick in anticipating my desires," he said. "It must be a misplaced sense of humour which made him lock the door. Now we shall have to stay here till he lets us out."

  "Well, we'd better sit down quietly and wait till your imbecile friend chooses to come back," she said as calmly as she could.

  He placed both hands on the door jamb, barring her way. He probably had no very real intention of hurting her, but he enjoyed frightening her.

  "It seems a pity to waste our time sitting down quietly," he said slowly. "Don't you think we could put it to a better use?"

  She backed away from him. "Victor, if you touch me—" she began desperately.

  "Well? If I touched you, what would you do—alone with me in a strange hotel at half-past one in the morning?" he said conversationally.

  She put both hands up to her 'aching head. "Oh, God, what am I to do?" she said.

  "I'll tell you, shall I? Just be a little bit nice to poor old Victor, and then we'll all be friends," he said, and moved towards her.

  IV

  Sebastian was still up, finishing Philippa's thriller, when Mark and the others got home. Julie was tired and went straight up to bed with Philippa, while Mark and Carey had drinks before they finally turned in. Mark, however, eventually deci
ded to sit up a little longer. He was beginning to worry about Victor's driving on the bad roads and blaming himself for not insisting that they all came home together.

  It was nearly half-past one, and Mark sat down to wait. "I hope they're all right," he said several times, and at ten minutes to two he got up with finality and announced that he was going back to meet them.

  With a sigh, Sebastian tore himself from his book. "I think you're batty, Judge. They may have stopped on till the end, or anything. What's the point of sweating all that way back?" he said, but Mark was adamant.

  "Swann said he was coming at once. I know he didn't want to stay—neither did Gina. I don't trust his driving on this sort of night," he said, and went out to fetch his coat and gloves.

  "Well, if you must go, I'm coming too," Sebastian said, getting to his feet and stretching. "All right, don't argue, Teacher, I might be useful, and anyhow you'll have some-one to talk to."

  Mark got out the car again, and having gone upstairs to warn Julie where he was going, he started back along the Eastcliff road.

  "They might easily be stranded if they'd had a smash," he said. "There's not much traffic about at this hour."

  "The Swann's much more likely to be engaging poor Ginny in a flirtation than lying in pieces in the hedge," Sebastian remarked.

  "Why do you say that?" asked Mark sharply. "Oh, well, you must have noticed, Mark. The Swann's always pestering Ginny. I suppose it's generally when you aren't around, though."

  "Has Gina been seriously worried by that man?"

  Sebastian shrugged. "Oh, she's quite capable of coping," he said cheerfully. "She doesn't tell me much. She's afraid I'll sock him one."

  Mark drove on in silence for a little way, then he said suddenly, "I've been an awful fool."

  "Why?"

  "I ought to have known."

  "But, Judge, you don't think—"

  "I don't know what to think," said Mark brusquely.

  "Well, you know, I always thought there was something very fishy about that week-end the Swann was here, and Ginny had that awful dust-up with Julie," Sebastian said.

  "What was that row about?"

  "I never knew. I thought perhaps she'd told you. But there was something fishy about that night before you came back. I always thought so."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, when I took Ginny's breakfast to her in the morning she'd barricaded herself in with a chair. She looked like death and said she hadn't slept a wink."

  "Why the hell didn't you tell me this at the time?" said Mark grimly.

  "Oh, well—I didn't know anything. There seemed to be enough trouble already, and I thought perhaps Ginny might have told you, anyway," said Sebastian apologetically.

  They drove now in complete silence, and suddenly Mark pulled up abruptly and pointed to a car standing in front of a small hotel.

  "There's the Bentley," he said, and thought rapidly for a moment.

  This was going to be rather awkward. He couldn't rouse the hotel 'and demand a list of its guests, but at the same time he didn't believe that Gina would have willingly accompanied Swann to a lonely hotel at this hour of the night. Besides, where was Evan?

  At that moment a light appeared in one of the downstairs rooms, and Mark got out, and went and tapped on the window. Presently it was pushed up, and a man's face appeared, flushed and surprised-looking.

  "Hullo, old boy! What do you want?" he asked affably. He was clearly rather drunk.

  "Is there anybody else in there with you?" demanded Mark.

  "Oh, no—I'm quite alone—in fact I'm very lonely, old boy, if the truth were known," said Mr. Banks pathetically.

  "You don't happen to know where the occupants of this Bentley are, then?"

  "That Bentley? Why of course, old boy. It brought me home." Mr. Banks began to laugh. "Very good joke that. They're upstairs, and what d'you think? I locked them in."

  "I don't know what you're talking about, but do you mean all three of them?" said Mark impatiently.

  "Three? There were only two, old boy, I swear there were only two. Swanny and little Miss—Miss—"

  "Gale?"

  "Gale! That's the name! Haughty little girl—not my style. D'you know her?"

  "Now listen to me," said Mark slowly and impressively. "Miss Gale is a member of my household, and I am responsible for her. I'm. incidentally a lawyer, and if there's any trouble, you're for it. Will you kindly come and let me in without any fuss and noise, and explain as clearly as you can what has happened?"

  Mr. Banks, suddenly perceiving the dawn of a most unpleasant scandal, disappeared rapidly from the window, and in a few moments had unlocked the front door. Sebastian, who had been listening with his eyes nearly leaving his head, prepared to follow Mark in, but he was told curtly to wait outside.

  "Now," said Mark.

  Mr. Banks explained, as well as he was 'able, protesting many times that he had no idea who Gina was. He had taken her for one of Swann's many attachments.

  "All right. Now keep quiet, and give me the key. This thing has got to be dealt with without a scandal. Which room is it?"

  "First on the left at the top of the stairs," said Mr. Banks, and sat down miserably to wait.

  Mark took the key and, feeling slightly sick, went quietly up the stairs.

  When he first unlocked the door, he thought the room was empty, then he saw Victor sitting sulkily in a corner.

  "Where's Gina?" he asked.

  Victor nodded towards the bedroom. "She's in there. Won't come out," he said automatically, then suddenly realizing who Mark was, he got to his feet unsteadily, and went rather white.

  The bedroom door was flung open, and Gina stood on the threshold. Her hair was wild, and she had evidently been weeping violently. She stared at Mark in dismay. She clearly had not expected to see him, and her hands went up to her mouth. She was unable to speak one word, but just stood and stared at him tragically.

  "Gina," he said gently, and went across to her, and, putting his arm around her, led her to the door. "Go downstairs quietly and wait for me in the car. You'll find Sebastian there."

  When she had gone, Mark turned to Victor. "If it wasn't for Gina I'd have you in court for this," he said, controlling himself with an effort. "How far did you go with her, Swann?" There was a deadly quietness in his voice.

  "Oh, good lord, man, I haven't hurt her," said Victor uneasily. "A couple of kisses was all I got or even meant to get from her. She's—she's been crying in the bedroom all this time, thanks to that fool Bingo's lil' joke."

  Mark looked at him steadily. He was at that stage of drunkenness in which he might easily begin to cry himself.

  "I presume your friend can put you up for the rest of the night?" he said. "I'll have your things sent over tomorrow. We shall not, of course, see you at the Barn House again." He turned to go.

  "Hey! Are you giving me notice to quit?" demanded Swann truculently. "Because let me tell you that Julie will have something to say to that."

  "My sister's affairs are entirely her own concern," said Mark stonily. "But the house happens to belong to me." He shut the door quietly behind him, and went down the silent stairs and out into the raw night air.

  CHAPTER XI

  I

  GINA was sitting in the back of the car crying bitterly. Sebastian, who was beside her, and trying his best to comfort, got out when he saw Mark, and made a gesture of despair.

  "I can't make head or tail of anything," he said. "But Ginny seems chiefly upset because you found her. Did you pitch into her or something?"

  "Hop in front and drive, Sebastian," said Mark quickly. "And for heaven's sake go carefully on these roads. I must talk to Gina."

  He got in beside her, and Sebastian joyfully took the wheel. Mark waited until they were well on their way, then he began to speak.

  "It's all over, Gina," he said soothingly. "Don't worry any more. I blame myself entirely. I was a perfect fool not to see how the land lay."

  "
I wish it hadn't been you ... I wish it hadn't been you . . ." she sobbed.

  "You wish what hadn't been me?"

  "I wish you hadn't found me—like that."

  He put one hand on her knee. "Listen, you poor child. I'm glad it was me," he said gently. "I'm only so sorry you never confided in me before. Gina—that time you were so upset after a row with Julie—had Swann tried to get into your bedroom?" She was silent. "My dear, you can't possibly mind telling me now."

  "Would you believe me?"

  "Gina—!"

  "Julie didn't. Or she said she didn't."

  "Was that what it was?"

  "I told her—I told her I was frightened. I wanted to change my room. She wouldn't let me. She said I'd asked for all I got." She began to cry again at the memory of that scene with Julie, and Mark's hand on her knee tightened.

  "You should have come to me, not to Julie," was all he said. "Another time, when anything at all worries you, come and tell me. Will you promise?"

  She nodded.

  "Has Swann always pestered you?"

  "More or less. I didn't want to make trouble for Julie. I avoided him as much as I could."

  "And what happened to Evan tonight?"

  "He went home earlier with the Pratts."

  "Why was that? He was one of our party."

  "I expect he didn't want to see me again."

  "So you had quarrelled?"

  "Well, he asked me to marry him, and I refused him."

  There was a long silence, then Gina said rather miserably, "I suppose Julie will be annoyed, won't she?"

  "Now listen, Gina. You're not to worry about anything Julie may say to you," said Mark in an odd voice. "I shall have to tell her about tonight, of course, because I naturally won't have Swann inside the house again. But no one else need know. And about Evan—well, you know I at least never wanted you to marry him. I want you to try and forget this whole beastly business. Will you?"

  She didn't immediately answer, then she said in anxious tones, "Mark, you didn't really think I cut your dances on purpose, did you?"

  "Oh, Gina!" He put an arm round her. "I believe you're far more worried about me than yourself! No, I didn't really think you cut my dances on purpose. Anyway, you couldn't very well help a proposal, could you?"