"Do you want to sleep with me?" Clair said abruptly. "I'll understand if you don't."
He knew it was no time to pity himself or to be outraged. She had done what she had done as much for him as for herself. He knew that. He was quite sure in his mind that neither Simpson nor Lehmann meant anything to her. It was horrible that she could have behaved like that, but her background and upbringing set her aside from other women. She was in trouble. This was the time to be generous. He went to her and took her in his arms.
"It's all right, darling. Let's forget about it. We'll see this thing through together. I don't know how it will end, but whatever happens I'll be with you."
chapter twenty-six
The following afternoon, punctually at three o'clock, the front door bell rang.
Clair started at the sound, scattering cigarette ash over her skirt. As she made to get up, Harry stopped her.
"I'll go. Don't let him rattle you," he said.
She had wanted to see Brady alone, but Harry wouldn't hear of it.
"He may as well know I'm in this with you," he had said. "I'm not leaving you. I said we'd see this through together and we're going to."
They had been sitting on the settee, waiting, since lunch, both smoking, both nervy, and it was a relief to Harry when the bell rang. He crossed the room to the front door.
Brady stood in the passage, expansive, smiling, immaculate and pig-like. Behind him was another man: short, square-shouldered with a mop of tow-coloured hair, a square chin, cold, steady grey eyes and a mouth which was fixed in a perpetual and humourless grin.
Harry recognised the hair at once. This was the man who had hit him with the bicycle chain and who had maimed Ron.
"Ah! So you're here too?" Brady said, showing his gold-capped teeth in an expansive smile. "Excellent! I wanted a word with you. And Clair? She's here? A party, eh? Splendid! This is Ben Whelan. You've met him before, I believe?"
Whelan looked at Harry and his grin widened. He had small even teeth: very white and strong looking, the teeth of a professional boxer.
"Hallo, chummy," he said.
Harry stood aside; his mouth dry and his heart hammering.
Brady walked past him into the sitting-room.
Whelan motioned Harry to follow.
"Go ahead, chummy," he said. "I'm keeping an eye on you."
As Harry entered the sitting-room, Brady was saying, "How are you, Clair? You look a little peeked, but I expect that's the excitement of seeing me again. Here's Ben. He's been looking forward to this. You were always his favourite brunette."
“Hallo, baby," Ben said, sauntering in behind Harry. "How did you get on in quod?"
Clair was standing with her back to the mantelpiece. She was pale and her face was set, but she seemed to have lost her nervousness. There was a wary hardness about her now that surprised Harry.
"It wasn't a holiday," she said shrugging. "But then it didn't cost me anything."
Brady laughed.
"You always did look on the bright side of things," he said, dropping his hat on the table. "What do you think of the layout, Ben? Have a look round. She won't mind."
"The police aren't here, if that's what you're scared of," Clair said with a sneer.
"Look all the same," Brady said to Whelan.
Whelan wandered into the bedroom.
"Let's have a drink, Clair," Brady said sitting down. "We may as well be sociable. I've seen your act at the Regent. It's absolutely first rate. The idea of the mask is sheer genius. It must have made you feel very safe."
"It did," Clair said coolly. She looked at Harry. "Would you get the drinks, please? Ben drinks gin."
With hands that were far from steady Harry brought out the gin and whisky and glasses.
"And this young fellow has a business in Grafton Street," Brady said, looking at Harry with a benign smile. "It's astonishing how well you both have got on. To think the last time I saw you you were both working on the streets. A real success story. Just a spot more," he went on as Harry poured the whisky into a glass. "That's about it." He reached for the glass. "What do you think of it?" he asked Whelan as he came into the room. "Pretty lush, eh?"
"Wouldn't mind it myself," Whelan said, and sat down. He shook his head at Brady's inquiring look. "No one hiding under the bed." He took the glass of gin from Harry and winked at him. "Landed yourself in a soft spot, haven't you, chummy?"
Clair went over to the table and poured herself a whisky. She gave Harry a tight little smile.
"What are you earning now, Clair?" Brady asked, stretching out his massive legs.
"A hundred less tax," she returned promptly.
"Under paid." Brady shook his head. "Since this little meeting hinges on money I think it would be a good idea to have a look at your passbook." He held out his hand. "Let me see it."
"It's at the bank."
"You don't want me to make my own estimate, do you?" Brady said, continuing to smile. "You see, Clair, the way I've worked this out is this way. I taught you the tricks of the trade. Therefore I'm entitled to a commission. If it hadn't been for my experience and skill you wouldn't be on the stage. I don't want to be unfair to you, but I'm afraid I can't trust you about your earnings. You'd better produce either your passbook or some proof of what you earn, otherwise I'll take a chance on a couple of hundred a week and let it go at that."
Clair remained still for a long moment, then she shrugged, went to the desk, opened it, took out a buff-coloured envelope and handed it to him.
"Thank you." He seemed a little surprised as if he hadn't expected her to give in so tamely. He looked at the passbook and raised his eyebrows. "A hundred and fifty a week," he said to Whelan. "Very nice. My goodness! You've got on, haven't you? Well, then, let's come to terms." He finished his whisky and held the empty glass out to Harry. "Could I trouble you? I think so much better on whisky."
While Harry poured another drink, Brady did a calculation on the back of the envelope. He whistled softly under his breath. Clair had gone back to the hearth, and was standing with her hands behind her, her face expressionless. Whelan lolled in an armchair, his eyes on Harry.
"Well now," Brady said, taking the glass from Harry. "Thank you so much. Well, now, let's get down to business. The position is you have committed bigamy. Being an old lag they'll probably deal severely with you. At best, you couldn't hope to get off under eighteen months. It boils down to this, are you prepared to pay for your freedom? Roughly you have about seventy pounds a week, tax free, plus say twenty-five for expenses. Let's call it a hundred. I don't want to cripple you so I suggest fifty per cent. Ben will call on you every Saturday morning, and you'll pay him fifty pounds. So long as you keep up the payments I'll keep quiet. That's my proposition."
Clair studied him. There was a dangerous glitter in her eyes, but her face was expressionless.
"You'll be sorry, Robert," she said. "I played fair with you. I could have given you away. A word from me and you'd still get a five-year sentence. You realise that, don't you?"
Brady chuckled.
"Don't bluff, precious. You know what happens to a squealer. Ben would take care of you if you did that. You knew he would take care of you if you had talked when you made a fool of yourself over that cigarette case." He looked over at Harry. "You may not be familiar with underworld methods," he said genially. "Perhaps you have heard of girls being disfigured by acid. It's the usual punishment for talking too much." He turned back to Clair. "It won't wash, I'm afraid. Even if you did squeak, I'd still get you for bigamy, and when you came out after your stretch Ben would be waiting for you. You'll have to do better than that." He finished his whisky, glanced at his watch. "I don't want to hurry you, but I have another appointment very soon. What do you say — fifty a week or an eighteen months' stretch?"
"I'll pay," Clair said in a cold, flat voice.
"Splendid!" Brady said, and clapped his hands. "Magnificent! What do you think of that, Ben? No hesitation. "I'll pay," just like th
at."
Whelan grinned.
"Not much else she could do."
"All right," Brady said. "Next Saturday Ben'll be along about eleven o'clock. We'll take cash. No cheques, and in pound notes. One more little thing. You've been working now for about eight weeks. It's only fair I should be paid for those eight weeks as well. Eight times fifty is four hundred. That's right, isn't it?"
Clair didn't say anything. A tightness came into her face and her eyes hardened.
"Well, then, let's start with a down payment. I don't suppose you have four hundred — or have you?"
"No," Clair said. "I haven't even a hundred."
"Always extravagant." He smiled at Harry. "I never could persuade her to save. Well, we won't expect miracles then. Let's say two hundred on Saturday as well as the fifty. And another two hundred in a month's time. That's fair, isn't it?"
"I haven't two hundred," Clair said.
"That's a pity. Well, you'll have to find it. There's the car. You can sell that. I don't think you really want a showy job like that. It's only ostentatious. You'll manage to rake it up if you sell the car. Anyway, it's up to you. Two hundred and fifty pounds or else, by next Saturday. Do you understand?"
Clair didn't say anything.
"Don't be sullen," Brady said gently. "It won't get you anywhere. Do you understand or don't you?"
She gave an indifferent shrug.
"Yes, I understand," she said.
"And I would advise you not to try any tricks," Brady said, looking sharply at her. "Don't think you'll wriggle out of this, because you won't. You should know me well enough by now."
She smiled.
"Bravo!" Brady exclaimed. "So you can still smile? Well, that's fine. Now, let's see if you can keep it up." He looked at Harry. "Now you: oh, yes, don't think I've forgotten you. I have a little job for you. You're going to pull your weight as well. If you don't, Clair will suffer. I mean that. Do you understand?"
"You leave him out of this!" Clair snapped.
"Ah! No smile now." Brady shook his finger at her. "You have a soft spot for him still, have you? But he's in this and he must pull his weight. Your studio is going to be very useful and profitable to me," he went on to Harry. "I have some negatives I want printed. Ben will give them to you. It will be quite a big order. Five thousand of each. They're not quite the kind of pictures you've been used to handling, but they sell very well at five shillings each. You won't get paid for the work, but you'll have the satisfaction of knowing you are keeping Clair out of jail. The police aren't likely to suspect such a respectable studio as yours. It's easy enough to get the negatives, but damned difficult to produce a quantity of prints. So you're going to be busy for the next month or so. If they sell well — and I think they will — we'll have a lot more for you to do."
"Oh, no!" Clair cried. "He's not going to do it! That settles it! You're not going to get anything now! I'll go to prison! And I'll send you there too!"
Brady got slowly to his feet.
"He doesn't say anything, does he?" He looked at Harry. "Don't be too hasty. I'll let you talk it over. Ben will call on you tomorrow with the negatives. You can tell him what you intend to do. I would advise you to do it if you want to keep her out of jail. It's all or nothing with me."
"He's not going to do it!" Clair said. "You've overplayed your hand. I'll go to the police today!"
"Come along, Ben," Brady said. "We have other things to do than listen to dramatics."
Whelan got to his feet.
"Tomorrow," Brady said, glancing at Harry. "If she squeaks to the police Ben will take care of her. Acid makes a mess of a girl's face. It would make you sick to have to go to bed with her. You two have to make up your minds. I know what I would do."
Clair went up to him, her face was white and her eyes vicious.
"And I know what I'm going to do! You're not getting away with this! Don't you think you are!"
And she began to curse him in a high-pitched, harsh voice that shocked Harry.
"Clair! Stop it!" he shouted, went to her and pulled her round to face him. "Stop it!"
She put her hand to her mouth, jerked away from him.
"Get out!" Harry said to Brady.
"Charming little soul, isn't she? They're all the same," Brady said. "Well, Whelan will call on you tomorrow. Don't forget. About eleven o'clock at your studio. So long for now," and he sauntered out of the flat with Whelan at his heels.
"Sorry," Clair said turning. "I couldn't help myself." She poured out two inches of whisky and gulped it down. "Well, that's that. Now we know."
"Now look, Clair . . ." Harry began, but she raised her hand, stopping him.
"There's only one way out of this mess, Harry, and I'm going to take it. I've been thinking and thinking all this morning what I should do. I know him. I knew what was coming. Oh, I didn't know he was going to drag you into it, but I knew he'd strip me. He's ruthless. You don't know what a swine he is. Dragging you into it is the last straw. Well, this is where we part, darling. It's the only way. I've made you unhappy, but I'm damned if I'm going to make you one of his sort. No, please," she went on as Harry began to speak, "it's the only way. I'm dropping out of sight, and I'll take care they never find me."
"We go together," Harry said firmly. "We're not parting, Clair. We can pack and get out within an hour. Let's do it. Somehow, together, we'll make a go of it."
She shook her head.
"No, Harry, it's no good. You'll never get anywhere with me. I'm rotten, and anything I touch goes rotten. Besides, you'll have to stay and give evidence against Whelan. At least, we can put him away. Do you think Ron would recognise him?"
"Never mind about Whelan," Harry said, sitting down and pulling her down beside him. "You've got to listen to me. Ever since we met you have held the reins, and I've done what you said. Well, it's going to change now. I'm taking over. It's time I did. If I hadn't been so weak this wouldn't have happened. We're married, and we're sticking together. We're packing and getting out, and we're going together. We'll leave everything. We'll take our clothes, and nothing more. Never mind about Whelan. Let the police pick him up if they can. Brady won't guess we'd leave everything and bolt, not if we go right away. Well just disappear, and nobody's ever going to find us."
Clair stared at him.
"Do you really mean that, Harry?"
"I mean it," he said, getting to his feet. "Come on, we're not going to waste a minute. Go and pack."
"But wait, Harry, let's make up our minds what we're going to do," she said, and slid her arms around his neck and hugged him. "Oh, Harry, do you think we'll get away with it? I don't care what happens so long as we're together."
"We must get away with it," he said, holding her to him. "Now go and pack. I want to go to the bank and I want a word with Mooney. He told me if I was in a mess he'd lend me a hand, and I think he will. We'll need new identity cards and ration books. It's possible he may know where I can get them."
Clair looked different now. Her old brightness had come back and her eyes sparkled with excitement.
"This is going to be exciting! To drop out of sight and start again as someone else! I'll go blonde! You'll like me blonde, won't you, darling?"
He caught hold of her and shook her.
"Clair! This isn't going to be a picnic. We'll be short of money. We'll probably have to live in one room. We'll have to watch our step all the time. I don't think exciting is quite the word."
She patted his face and laughed.
"I'm going to love it. Just you and I, Harry! Of course it's going to be exciting! Look, with the car we could take all we want; our clothes, the wireless and we have a case of scotch. Oh, yes, Harry, let's take the car!"
He stared at her.
"What are you thinking of? The car isn't paid for. How can you think like that? Besides, it could be easily traced. Of course we can't take it. While I'm out, write to that chap Maurice and tell him to collect it Say you're going away suddenly and don't want it
anymore."
Her face fell.
"Oh. I hadn't thought of that. Well, all right. I must say it would have been marvellous to have had it with us. But I suppose you're right. I'll fix it with Maurice."
"I'll get off and see Mooney. Oh, damn, the bank will be closed by now. We have to have money, Clair."
She went quickly into her bedroom and came out again in a moment, her hands full of rings and jewellery.
"Go and pop these. They're not much, but you should get sixty or seventy pounds for them."
He took the jewellery and dropped it into his pocket
"We'll have to say good-bye to that fifty in the bank," he said regretfully. "Once we leave this flat we leave it as two completely different people. There's no turning back."
"How about Simpson?"
"Phone Lehmann and tell him you're going away. Say you're going abroad or something; only don't let on what's happened."
She nodded.
"All right, Harry, I'll do it. Try not to be too long, will you?"
"I'll be as quick as I can. You'll be here when I come back?"
"Of course."
“Word of honour?"
She kissed him.
"If you still want me — word of honour."
He left her getting out suitcases and tossing clothes on to the bed. On the way downstairs he wondered a little fearfully what was going to happen to them. She didn't seem to realise what was in store for them. To start all over again would be much harder for her than for him. Already she was thinking in terms of a car. One thing was certain, he would keep a tight hold on her. She was not going to get them into another mess like this!
He passed swiftly through the reception hall, his brow creased in a worried frown. He didn't see Ben Whelan sitting in a deep lounging chair just behind a pillar, but Whelan saw him and grinned.
1951 - But a Short Time to Live Page 17
