The Sugared Game

by KJ Charles

“He’s too young to drink?”

  Phoebe gurgled. “No, darling, a juvenile. An actor who plays delightful young men, so his feet are very firmly planted on this side of twenty-five. Johnnie Cheveley was awfully cross about it, but he would be.”

  Will was well used to the flood of names that meant nothing to him. It became oddly soothing after a while, like the Shipping Forecast on the radio. “Who’s Johnnie Cheveley, and why was he cross?”

  “Oh, well, darling, that’s a long story. Who he is, I mean, not why he was cross. That’s a very short story: he didn’t want to go. He said the High-Low was a rotten place and Gloria said he’d enjoyed it well enough before, and there was very nearly a fight when Binkie and Gloria went off to meet a friend of theirs. I say friend; Gloria looked awfully refreshed afterwards, if you take my meaning.”

  “Would the friend have been on the upper balcony, at all?”

  “I think he might have been, because Johnnie was very unkind about her breaking her neck coming back down the stairs. Not that she did of course. Well, you know she didn’t.”

  “I do?”

  “Darling, you know her!”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Yes you do, she’s in the pictures. She was in that thing with Louise Brooks last month as the girl who wouldn’t, and the one with the man with the hair.”

  Incredibly, this brought a face to Will’s mind. “Oh, her. Right. Yes, I’ve seen her a few times.”

  “I hope not in the High-Low,” Phoebe said. “She really ought to be more discreet. But it still isn’t Johnnie’s business.”

  The waiter arrived with their first courses. Will waited for him to stop making puppy eyes at Phoebe and clear off before asking, “So why’s this Cheveley fellow on your mind?”

  “You are clever, darling.” Phoebe took a sip of her soup. “He wants me to marry him.”

  “You’re engaged. To Kim, I grant you, but still engaged.”

  “Darling, I know! It’s too absurd. The thing is—can I bore you with the story? You see, his family and ours are connected, and I was desperately in love with him when I was quite little. He was in Signals in the war and I embarrassed us both writing him heartfelt letters. And by the time he came back his father and oldest brother had died, in that order so the death duties were iniquitous, and everything that’s left went to the second brother to keep the house up. Johnnie was the third son, so he doesn’t have anything at all and he has to work. He was furiously angry about that, but Daddy offered him a post as his secretary, with a generous salary and plenty of free time so he could live as he used to. I met him a great deal, and he was always terribly offhanded with me, which I very stupidly took as a challenge. I was rather wild then, and a dreadful fool in a lot of ways. We all were, I suppose. You know what it’s been like since the war, with parties and everything changing.”

  Will’s post-war experience had not included parties, but you couldn’t miss the rules being rewritten all over. “Mmm.”

  “Anyway, eventually—well, I was very silly and careless and got badly in trouble, and Daddy made Johnnie a generous offer if he’d marry me. But what with one thing and another he refused, which was quite his right, of course, but he wasn’t kind about it. Not kind at all.” She was looking over Will’s shoulder then, not meeting his eyes. “And Kim was. He was the only person who didn’t tell me how dreadful I’d been. Of course he was in disgrace himself, so he knew how it felt. He offered me his hand and I said yes and told my parents, but then the—well, the pressing need to get married didn’t come about, you know. But after all that, I rather felt like staying engaged for a while, and of course it’s useful for Kim. So we were privately engaged for a few months, and we got on so marvellously that I thought, why not stick to it and get married?”

  “I can think of a couple of reasons,” Will said, with some understatement.

  “Perhaps, darling, but you aren’t in my position. So we announced it last summer and planned to marry this summer. And then, quite unexpectedly, Johnnie proposed to me at Christmas, and he hasn’t stopped since.”

  Will blinked. Phoebe made a comical face, but her eyes weren’t laughing. “He’s proposed five times. In two months! He keeps saying he made a terrible mistake and not to let it ruin our lives, and so on and so forth. He even asked Daddy for his blessing.”

  “When you’re engaged to someone else?”

  “Johnnie knows my parents don’t think much of Kim. But Daddy told him it was up to me, which put Mother in an awful bind, since she naturally wants to support whichever man Daddy likes least.”

  Will stared. Phoebe gave him a little joyless smile. “My parents don’t get on. I have thought of becoming one of those women who goes to Africa to shoot buffalo in trousers—me in the trousers, obviously—but I’m their only child since my brother died, so...”

  “I didn’t know. I’m sorry. War?”

  “Goodness, no, darling, he was only seven. Diphtheria, the poor heart. It was a dreadful blow to my parents but by then they weren’t speaking at all so there was no prospect of a replacement. Anyway, here we are. Daddy won’t make me decide between my suitors but he won’t call Johnnie off. Mother loathes them both. And Johnnie won’t stop proposing.”

  “What does Kim say?”

  “He’s always said, if I want to end the engagement and marry someone else I should do precisely as I please.” Phoebe turned her wineglass in her slim fingers. “But he doesn’t like Johnnie.”

  “I know you’ve thought about this,” Will said. “But there are men in the world who aren’t queer or arseholes. Have you considered marrying one of them instead?”

  There was a strangled noise from behind him, and he realised a waiter had come to top up their wine glasses. He said, “Uh.” Phoebe clamped her lips together, shoulders shaking, and let out a splutter of laughter once the scandalised man had retreated. “Will, darling, really! Shocking the staff.”

  “Sorry. Point stands, though.”

  “Johnnie isn’t that bad.”

  “He sounds awful,” Will said, not mincing words.

  “He was very...oh, war-weary for a long time. And I didn’t behave well, and mostly, he was entitled not to be in love with me. Loving someone doesn’t oblige them in the slightest. It’s not like ‘good morning’, when you have to say it back.”

  Will couldn’t imagine not loving Phoebe, but she had a point. “Er, are you still—”

  “Oh, not in the slightest, darling. Not at all. I know so many people who are in love with people who treat them appallingly, and I used to think that was such a glamorous way to go on. And then Johnnie was truly unkind to me and whatever I felt for him positively evaporated. Like salt on a slug, withering it up.”

  “Kim can be pretty unkind.”

  “Not to me,” Phoebe said, with breathtaking simplicity. “And I love him but I’m not in love with him, and maybe that makes a difference.”

  Their main courses arrived. Will waited impatiently for the waiter to go; Phoebe, as ever, gave the man a charming smile. She picked up her knife and fork. Will ignored his. “So this chap’s changed his mind. You don’t have to listen to him, though, do you?”

  “Well, this is the problem. I suppose Maisie told you about our plans? She’s been dying to. She is so extraordinarily talented, and I know the people she needs to know, and she has a vision, and I really think I can help her make it happen. It’s desperately exciting. I’m going to introduce her to everyone. I want us to go to Paris, for her to work with people—I want Teddy Molyneux more than anything—and to be someone. She’s far too talented to waste her time in that dreary unimaginative hat shop which is a positive what-do-you-call-it for someone of her potential. You know. Awfully depressing place. In Gloucestershire?”

  “You don’t mean the Slough of Despond?”

  “I should take you everywhere,” Phoebe said. “Of course it’s a risk for her, but I truly believe she can do it if she just had the chance, and I know how to get her the chance, so we
really only need the money to start, and Daddy has that. So I asked him to lend me what I needed for us to go, and Maisie to have her start, and if it works, for us to set up in business. We could do it. She could do it. She’s so good, Will.”

  Phoebe’s blue-grey eyes were alight, her face transformed. Will found a rather hard sensation in his chest when he breathed in. “And he’ll lend you the money?”

  “Darling, he said he’d give it to us! He told me yesterday. He wants to meet Maisie, which is quite reasonable, but he’s very happy to fund me. Mother doesn’t want me to go into commerce, of course, which is probably his reason, but I can’t help that. So it’s all wonderful except that he said that he wants Johnnie to, what’s the word, to handle the accounts.”

  “Are there strings attached?”

  She made a face. “Not as such. Nothing spelled out. But I’ll have to apply to Johnnie for funds and send him accounts for approval, which I think he thinks means he can tell us what to do.”

  “Why’s your father doing this?”

  “Matchmaking, I expect,” Phoebe said wearily. “Because I wanted Johnnie before and he said no, and now I could have him I’m saying no. He thinks if Johnnie and I spend time together I’ll learn to forget my pride and accept his guiding hand or some such.”

  “Does that work outside novels?”

  “I shouldn’t think so. I’m desperately annoyed with Johnnie.”

  Of course Cheveley was exploiting such an unfair scheme. That seemed bloody typical of this man Will hadn’t heard of an hour ago and thoroughly disliked. “Can’t Kim lend you the money instead?”

  “It’s an awful lot. And there’s reasons it wouldn’t be right. Or at least... Well, take my word, it might make things dreadfully awkward.”

  “It sounds pretty awkward this way. I suppose you really do need the money?”

  Phoebe’s jaw firmed. “I promised Maisie. I already told her Daddy had agreed, before he came back with this. I shan’t let her down.” She looked quite fierce for a moment before her usual sunny smile returned. “And it needn’t be awkward if Johnnie is reasonable about it. Only, is there a way to persuade a man to stop proposing?”

  “A half-decent one would stop as soon as you told him to.”

  “Darling, how optimistic of you. Or perhaps I don’t know enough half-decent men.”

  “Then tell Kim to have a word with this fellow. He’s your fiancé. If this chap won’t listen to you, he’ll probably listen to him.”

  “You would think so, except Johnnie dislikes Kim so very much. I’m sure that’s part of it, you know, wanting to get one over on him. Ugh. Oh, well, I’m probably making a mountain out of a molehill, and if he misbehaves awfully I shall appeal to Daddy. I’m sorry to bore on about this.”

  “You haven’t at all. I’m sorry I can’t help.”

  “But you’ve listened beautifully, darling, and been on my side, which is all I wanted. It’s just that I usually bore on at Kim, and I’ve barely seen him in weeks. I don’t suppose—”

  “Actually, I saw him last night,” Will said, and could have kicked himself as her eyes rounded. “Not socially. He turned up. Work.”

  “He’s up to something, isn’t he? You needn’t answer if it’s one of his secrets, but you’re up to something, with him? That is exciting. I shall forgive him for not answering his telephone.”

  “Even better, tell him to answer it.”

  “Oh, I know. What’s the point in having a receiver if you aren’t going to receive? I’m glad though, Will. He’s been very Kimmish for a while now, but I think he’s missed you.”

  That seemed implausible. “I’ve seen him twice this year, by his choice. And I can’t say the most recent meeting improved matters much.”

  “Oh. Would it make a difference to know that he asks about you?”

  “It would make a difference if he talked to me,” Will said. “And since he doesn’t—”

  “But he doesn’t talk to me either, not properly. I understand him by looking at the holes in what he says, and you’ve been nothing but holes since New Year.”

  “That’s about how I feel,” Will said, surprising himself. It was horribly easy to talk to Phoebe. She chattered about whatever was on her mind, so you did too, and before you knew it things that should have stayed as unexamined thoughts were out there in front of you, impossible to ignore.

  “Oh, darling, I’m sorry. I wish—”

  He didn’t want to hear what she wished; it might hit too close to home. “Save your wishes for you and Maisie to become the newest Paris fashion house. That’s what I want.”

  Phoebe blushed, a charming rosy shade. “Really?”

  “Of course really. And don’t let any men get in the way.”

  Phoebe lifted her glass in a toast. “No, darling,” she murmured. “I shan’t.”

  Chapter Five

  Beaumont returned Will’s phone call that afternoon, sounding exhausted and a little wary. He probably hadn’t expected to hear from him again. Will didn’t even try to explain, simply telling him there was a fellow he ought to meet. Kim could make up his own lies.

  Beaumont made negative noises. “I’ve no money to invest in any get-rich-quick schemes.”

  “It’s nothing like that. Or racing tips, or anything else of the sort. It may be you and this chap can help each other out.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He can explain better than I can. He’s in a spot of bother, and you might be able to do each other a good turn.”

  “I don’t see how, and I’m not promising anything,” Beaumont said grudgingly, but he agreed to come round at five. Will gave him the address, and immediately phoned Kim, who actually answered for once, with an aggressive rap of “Secretan.”

  “It’s Will.”

  “Oh, hello,” Kim said, audibly adjusting his voice to warmth.

  “I’ve got that meeting with Beaumont for you. Today at five, my place.”

  “Thank you. What did you tell him?”

  “Nothing. I didn’t know what lie you had in mind.”

  “You could tell him I need his professional advice, and bask in a warm glow of honesty.”

  “You tell him, so I can watch you choke on your own tongue as you attempt to spit out something like truth.”

  Kim laughed, a warm, infectious sound despite the crackly line. “Harsh, Will, harsh. I’ll be with you, shall we say half an hour before? Call me if he arrives before then, and unlock the back door if you would.”

  “You don’t ask much,” Will muttered. “And I never—” He stopped. Kim had already hung up.

  The afternoon dragged, as would any period sandwiched between time with Phoebe and Kim. He sold a few books, wrote a few letters, dealt with a few orders to go by post, and otherwise occupied himself until he heard faint sounds from the back room at around half past four. Will ignored them until he’d got rid of his sole customer, then strolled through to find his erratic sort-of partner lounging on the camp bed with a book.

  “You’re here, are you?” he said in lieu of greeting.

  Kim gave him an up and down look. He seemed a bit worn in daylight, Will thought, with a touch of tension around his eyes and mouth. “Good afternoon to you too. Any chance of a cup of tea?”

  Will tugged his forelock. “At once, m’lord.”

  “Oh, shut up.”

  “Tired?”

  “A bit.” Kim gave a sudden yawn. “I was prowling the streets around the High-Low in the small hours, keeping an eye out for opportunities, which were not vouchsafed to me. The place is surprisingly secure for a quite ordinary night-club, especially one with such a cavalier attitude to the licensing laws. One usually expects an easy and discreet route out, and the High-Low has both a back door into the yard area behind, and a fire escape coming down from what I assume is Skyrme’s office, yet both seem very firmly locked even when it’s open.”

  “You sound like an expert. Been in many night-club raids?”

  “Three,” K
im said resignedly. “All Phoebe’s fault. She used to make me take her to the most appalling places; I got quite used to ending up in the cells for the night and the dock in the morning, getting the fish-eye from a magistrate. But all of them were fly-by-night operations, while the High-Low is on a different scale. It’s worth noting that Mrs. Skyrme has plenty of experience of raids. She’s run three night-clubs, as well as a couple of bridge-clubs with high stakes. The first two night-clubs were closed down by the police within months. The High-Low, by contrast, has been open for three years, and is succeeding triumphantly. It has never been raided, and judging by the lack of easy back ways out, it doesn’t look like they expect to be.”

  “I wonder what she did differently this time.”

  “Took better advice on which policemen to pay off, I expect. Is that the door?”

  “It might be Beaumont. I’ll tell him you’re here.”

  Kim nodded. Will went back into the main room, and saw his old lieutenant looking around.

  “Hello, there,” Will said. “Thanks for coming.”

  Beaumont gave him a perfunctory smile. “Look here, I’m not awfully sure what it is you want.”

  “Best if my pal explains. I asked him to come here.” Will went to lock the door and put up the Closed sign.

  Beaumont looked uneasily around. “I don’t think...”

  “He’s got a problem that’s linked to the High-Low. I’m wondering if there’s anything you can tell us that will help us deal with it.”

  “Deal how?” Beaumont demanded. “What are you up to?”

  “That very much depends what you can tell us.” That was Kim’s voice. Beaumont jumped a foot. Will looked round to see him leaning against a bookcase. “Beaumont, yes?” He swung forward, holding out a hand. “Arthur Brabazon, good to meet you. It’s my opinion there is something very wrong at the High-Low. Would you disagree?”

  Beaumont looked a little startled by that abrupt opening. “It’s a night-club. What would you expect?”

  “I’m talking about more than that. I think you know what I mean.”

  Beaumont’s eyes widened. Kim went on, “Of course you can say, Not my business, or More than my job’s worth, and perhaps that’s true. But Darling has told me enough about you that I believe that you’ll do the right thing, if you’ll just hear me out.”