1953 - The Things Men Do (5 page)

I knew I couldn't have looked her in the face if I told her.

Besides, I knew she wouldn't go: she couldn't go. She hadn't an evening dress. I took the easy way out by deciding not to tell her.

Saturday was fine, after a week of solid rain. During the afternoon, Ann made preparations for supper and spent some time pressing her only decent dress. She was getting a big bang out of going to the movies with Bill and me. We hadn't been to the movies for six months, and it made me feel pretty bad to see her excitement, knowing I wasn't going with them.

She had made a rabbit pie for supper: Bill's favourite dish, and around seven she came into the sitting-room to announce everything was ready.

She looked bright-eyed and pretty in her simple dress, and looking up at her as she stood before me for my approval, I felt a pang of conscience that dug right into my guts.

"You look terrific, Ann." I got up and walked around her.

"Who says I haven't married a beautiful girl?"

"Do I look all right?" She held out her arms and I kissed her. "Everything's ready. I hope Bill won't be late."

"It's ten to. He'll be along. Trust Bill. He won't miss the rabbit pie."

"Who's talking about rabbit pie?" Bill asked from the doorway.

He had got on his best blue suit, and his red face was freshly shaved. As he came into the room, he held out a big bunch of clove pinks with an embarrassed smirk.

"Here you are, Ann. I don't suppose they'll last long. I bent down one of the Spivs at the corner."

To see the way Ann's face lit up as she took the flowers made me feel a little sick. I was in two minds not to go to Gloria's place. I had never seen Ann looking prettier. Even Bill, who never noticed things like that, had something to say about her.

"You know, Harry, you've married a lovely girl. First time I've noticed it."

Ann laughed.

"You be quiet, Bill. That's not a bit complimentary. Come on and eat. We don't want to be late."

We sat down at the table at a few minutes to seven. Any moment now, Gloria would ring, and the phone call would start a train of lies that night to go on and on, and have no stopping.

The thought spoilt my appetite and made me ashamed of myself.

Bill was too busy with his pie to notice, but Ann was quick to see something was wrong.

She smiled at me a little uncertainly.

"All right, Harry?"

"Fine." I gave her a fixed grin. "This is terrific. Isn't it, Bill?"

"It's all right. If ever I marry, I'll make my wife learn how to make this but I bet she won't be able to make it so well as Ann does."

Then the telephone bell rang.

Ann half started up.

"It's all right. I'll take it," I said, and jumped for the door. I was in such a panic to head Ann off that I upset my chair and knocked my knife and fork on the floor.

As I opened the door, I saw surprise on Bill's face while Ann sat rigid, her eyes suddenly anxious.

I went down the stairs to the office and lifted the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Well, you told me to ring, Harry, and I've rung."

The sound of that husky voice sent a tingle up my spine.

"Thanks." I was whispering into the mouthpiece. "I'll be along just after eight."

"I'm looking forward to seeing you. Everything all right?"

Again we were conspirators.

"Yes. Good bye for now."

"Good-bye, Harry."

Slowly I replaced the receiver. I stood by the desk for some moments. I didn't have to lie to Ann. I could go up and tell her that Gloria had phoned and had asked me to her flat to meet this man. I could tell her about the agency. But I knew I couldn't face her and Bill, knowing there was more to it than meeting this man.

I went to the office door and looked down the length of the dark garage. I tried to screw up my courage to go upstairs and get it over.

"Harry? What is it?"

"Old Lewis. He's broken down again. I'll have to go, Ann."

The words came out of my mouth without me thinking.

"Oh, Harry! You can't go tonight."

I went slowly up the stairs.

"I'm sorry, darling, but that's the way it is," I said and moving forward, I put my arm around her, pulling her against me so I shouldn't have to meet her eyes. "I've got to go. I've too few clients to let one down."

"What's up?" Bill asked, getting up from the table.

"A breakdown out at Edgware. I've got to go. He's an old customer. Now look, you take Ann to the movie. I'll get back as fast as I can."

"Must you go, Harry? Damn it! Can't he get fixed up somewhere else?" Bill asked. "Edgware's a hell of a way."

"He could get fixed up somewhere else, but if he does, I shan't see him again. He's my best customer, Bill. I've got to go."

"Harry, I don't want to go to the movies without you."

I patted her arm.

"Oh rot! Of course you must go. I haven't time to argue about it. I've got to get into my overalls and get the truck out. You go with Bill."

"No. I'm sure Bill will understand. I'll come with you, Harry." I hadn't expected that. For a moment I was thrown off balance.

"Don't be silly, Ann. You'd be in my way. You go with Bill."

The moment I had spoken I knew I couldn't have said anything worse. I saw her stiffen, and her face flush.

"I'm sorry, Harry. You're quite right, I am being silly."

She turned to Bill. "Do you mind taking me, Bill? I would like to go."

"Of course well go," Bill said.

"Is there anything I can do, Harry, so you can get off quickly?" She didn't look at me as she spoke. If she had slapped my face I couldn't have felt more sick with myself.

"It's okay. Finish your supper. I'll go and change."

As I walked into the bedroom I caught Bill's eye. I could see he suspected something was up. He didn't miss much. As I took out a pair of clean white overalls from the wardrobe I saw my hands were shaking.

I went downstairs, opened the garage doors, started up the truck and drove it into the street. Then I went upstairs again.

They were sitting at the table. Ann wasn't eating, but Bill was making short work of the fruit salad as if nothing had happened.

"Well, I'm off. Have a good time, you two."

They looked up, but I was already backing out of the room. So I shouldn't have to meet their eyes, I lit a cigarette.

"I hope you'll get on all right, Harry," Ann said quietly.

"I'll fix it. Have a good time."

"So long, Harry," Bill said.

"So long."

I went downstairs and got into the truck, feeling as if I had committed the meanest act of my life.

I parked the trade in a car park of the Strand and went along to Charing Cross Station where I picked up the suitcase.

I had a wash in the station convenience and changed there, packing my suit and overalls in the case. I returned the case to the Left Luggage office.

It was a quarter to eight by the time I came out of the station. I had plenty of time so I walked to Bond Street. I reached Gloria's flat a few minutes after eight o'clock.

The side entrance to the flat was down a mews. The front door was painted a vivid scarlet, and there were geraniums and lobelia in the window boxes, giving the flat a gay, continental air. Nearby three big cars were parked: a Cadillac, a Humber and the 1939 Buick I'd seen already.

I stood hesitating, looking up at the windows, still not sure if I should ring the bell or sneak away.

I rang the bell.

After a few minutes delay, the door opened.

"Hello, Harry."

I took a step forward, then stopped. She was in a black evening dress, cut so low I could see the tops of her breasts and the furrow between them. In the evening light her shoulders were porcelain white, and the overhead lamp in the hall lit up the brilliants around the top of her dress and sent flashes of fight from a big paste diamond clip she wore in her hair.

She looked the most exciting and sensual woman I had ever seen, and just to look at her, sent a feeling through me so violent it scared me.

"My! You do look handsome." Her hand reached out and took mine. "The other boys will be green with envy."

"You look as if you've stepped straight out of a movie."

"Do I? That's the first compliment I've been paid this evening. I put this dress on specially for your benefit. Like it?"

"Its' terrific: a knock-out."

"Well, come on up and meet the others."

"Is he here?"

"Yes. His name's Dix: Ed Dix. When the party's warmed up I'll find the opportunity for you to talk to him."

She led me up a flight of steep stairs and into a long, low-ceiling room that was full of tobacco smoke. The curtains had been drawn, shutting out the waning evening light and small parchment-shaded lamps, set in the walls, were alight.

"People: meet Harry Collins, my new boyfriend," Gloria said from the doorway.

That surprised me, but there was nothing I could do about it. I let her lead me into the middle of the room.

"Reading from left to right," she went on, speaking rapidly, "Betty, Connie, Paula and Madge. Don't let them get their claws into you, and girls, remember, he's my property."

The girls were expensively dressed, all, over made-up: two blondes, a red head and a platinum blonde: none of them had any attractions for me. I gave each of them a stiff little bow while Gloria slid her arm through mine and watched me with a possessive air that embarrassed me.

They all smiled. Paula, the red head, winked, while Madge, one of the blondes, rolled her eyes at me.

A slight tug at my arm half-turned me to meet the four men.

Three of them were in evening dress; the fourth was in a pearl-grey lounge suit, cut on the American style. He wore a hand painted tie of horses' heads on a yellow background. He was tall and massively built, about twenty-five or six, with small dark eyes that stared through me, a small over red mouth and a long, massive jaw.

"Eddie, I want you to meet Harry Collins."

So this was Ed Dix. I disliked him on sight.

"Hullo; how's yourself?" he asked, moving towards me with a slow, lounging gait He spoke with a marked American accent.

"Pretty good. Glad to meet you."

He gave me a jeering little smile.

"You are? That's fine. Meet the boys: Joe, Berry and Louis."

The three men averaged about twenty-seven or eight years of age; Berry was short and thickset with a white, hard face and flaming red hair; Joe was big; nearly as powerful-looking as Dix. He had the battered, squashed face of a fighter. Louis was fair and effeminate looking. He had a pencil-lined moustache and a carnation in his button-hole.

I didn't like the look of any of these three any mare than I liked the look of Dix, but they were obviously determined to be amiable and each shook hands with me, grinning.

"Well, now you've met everyone, have a drink," Gloria said, leading me across the room to an elaborate bar. She slipped behind it. "What'll you have? Whisky?"

"Thanks."

My eyes went to her half-concealed breasts again.

While she busied herself with an ice shaker one of the girls put on a record on the radiogram. Soon all four couples were dancing while Gloria leaned against the bar, watching them, and from time to time looking at me.

I had time now to examine the room I was in. It was expensively furnished with modem, showy furniture. The floor was polished parquet, and big lounging setter arm-chairs stood against the walls. In a corner was the largest television set I'd ever seen.

"Don't you want to dance with me, Harry?"

"I'm not much of a hand at dancing now."

She came out from behind the bar.

"Don't you want to try?"

I put my arm round her, and she pressed up against me, I could feel the soft curves of her breasts against my shirt front and smell the perfume in her hair. I got that feeling again, ripping the insides out of me.

Dancing with her was like dancing by myself. At one Www Ann and I used to dance quite a bit, but since I had bought the garage, there had been no time for dancing. I soon found I wasn't as rusty as I thought I was going to be, and after a couple of dances, Gloria smiled up at "Who said you couldn't dance? You're as good as Ed."

"Is that a compliment?"

"I'll say. There's nothing Ed does badly: nothing at all."

Dix was dancing with Madge. He seemed to be content to stand in a comer with her and sway his body to the rhythm of the music and not move his feet.

It was only when the record stopped and everyone came over to the bar for drinks that I suddenly thought of Ann.

I was glad and relieved that I hadn't brought her. She would have been hopelessly out of place among these smooth, over-dressed girls. Looking at them in the brighter light of the bar, as they clamoured for drinks, I wondered uneasily if they weren't prostitutes: the four of them had the hard, glittering eyes, the strident voices, the easy familiarity of the better class of street-walker. The Idea startled me.

Looking at the men, I saw now they weren't in a much better class. Berry could have been a bookie's tout, Joe a small-time boxer, Louis anything: a gigolo possibly.

I couldn't place Dix. He was obviously an American.

There was something about him that warned me he could be dangerous. As he lolled against the bar, chewing gum, a whisky in his hand, his small dark eyes glittering as he kept looking sideways at Gloria, he reminded me of a typical gangster you see on the movies.

"Harry dances divinely," Gloria announced. "Ed, you'll have to look to your laurels."

"That so? I should care." He half turned, leaning his back against the bar to stare at me. "I'll show you something you can't do, pally."

He pushed himself away from the bar, went over to the fireplace and picked up a heavy steel poker.

"Ed is about to show off," Gloria said and laughed.

He held the poker in his massive hands, bent it into a hoop, and then without any apparent effort straightened it again.

"Can't do that, can you, pally?"

I shook my head.

"That takes some doing."

He tossed the poker with a clatter into the fireplace and came back to the bar.