Dancers in Mourning (17 page)

He caught sight of Mrs Geodrake, did not recognise her, stared at her, and went out again promptly without a word, passing Sutane in the doorway.

‘D
EATH
by misadventure.' Sutane glanced across the room and spoke without relief. He looked pale and preoccupied and appeared to be imparting the information without considering it. Even Mrs Geodrake, who had risen, her eyes eager and ingratiating, made no attempt to speak to him.

He came into the room, glanced at the visitor casually, as at a stranger in a hotel lounge, and, planting his back to the fireplace, waited with his heavy-lidded eyes on the open door.

Hughes and the parlourmaid, who had entered through the breakfast-room, were busy with tea-trays and occasional tables. Apart from the gentle clatter they made there was no other sound in the room.

Mrs Geodrake sat down again.

Outside the hall someone giggled nervously. It was a particularly inane sound, not at all unusual in itself; rather, startlingly familiar; but in the precincts of White Walls it was an anachronism.

‘This way, Mrs Pole,' Konrad's voice came in to them, gentle and insincere. They entered together, the man consciously graceful, bending slightly from the waist, his feet carefully placed at each step, his golden head bent, and the woman, self-conscious, triumphant, enjoying herself with all the energy of an amateur actress in the leading tragic rôle of a play for charity.

She was small and plump and not so much clothed as looped and festooned in black. Black chiffon hung from her hat, from her shoulders and from her black-gloved hand. From her flat pointed shoes to the crown of her toque she dripped mourning in its most prosaic form.

Beside such a determined display of funeral Konrad's curling yellow hair looked flippant and in bad taste.

Behind them walked a large, sulky youth in a black suit a trifle too small for his puppy-fat body. He was painfully ill at ease and with the earnest idiocy of adolescence was covering it with baleful fury. His face, neck and hands were all very red and prominent. Sock wandered beside him, looking both exhausted and alarmed. Eve and Mercer came last, the man unwillingly.

Konrad glanced at Linda more to ascertain her exact position than to convey any message.

‘Mrs Pole,' he said softly. ‘This is Mrs Sutane.'

Chloe Pye's sister-in-law raised her veil and her nervous laugh echoed through the room unhappily.

‘Pleased to meet you,' she said. ‘Isn't it awful?' She giggled again with unfortunate effect. The two women shook hands and Linda conducted her visitor to a seat near the tea-tray.

Mrs Pole gave up the unsatisfactory notion of hitching her veil over her ears like an inverted yashmak, an expedient which both blinded and embarrassed her, and pushed it up over her hat, revealing a round, determined face and red-rimmed blue eyes.

She was a great talker, a little out of her depth at the moment, but clinging bravely to her unusual prominence and displaying from time to time glimpses of that obstinacy which was her chief characteristic.

Mrs Geodrake was temporarily forgotten. She sat gracefully on a small settee in the middle of the room, her intelligent eyes alight with interest and an amusement which was only too clearly unsympathetic. She was a member of the audience who had got into the play and was frankly and unselfconsciously enjoying it.

Mrs Pole looked about her.

‘Where's Bobby?' she said sharply.

‘Here, Mother.' Robert Pole shouldered his way towards her through what he obviously took to be a hostile crowd. He was introduced to Linda and shook hands with her, scowling.

Mrs Pole accepted tea and sandwiches and her son took up a protective position behind her chair. Konrad rose to the occasion gallantly. He ran about with cups and plates and cream-jugs, posturing and gesturing as if he were actually on the stage.

Chloe Pye's sister-in-law had a loud voice with an accent which would not have been noticeable if she had not made capricious attempts to counteract it at unexpected moments.

‘I'm thankful for a cup of tea,' she said ‘Poor clever Chloe –' She gulped and used her handkerchief. ‘It's been such a shock. We all went to see her on Saturday night, you know. Dad – that's my husband – was away on business, so we took my neighbour, and I'm sure I talked about Chloe all the way home. I never thought I'd find her like this. Have you seen her, Mrs Sutane? My dear! –' She lowered her voice and imparted some gruesome detail. ‘She was so pretty, too, wasn't she, for her age? You'd have thought sometimes, from the stage, she was nothing but a young girl. It was a terrible strain on her, though. You could see it if you looked into her face. Now she's gone. I'm going to take her home. Dad would wish it. I've seen the undertaker.'

Mrs Geodrake moved a little closer. ‘It must have been a terrible blow to you,' she began invitingly.

The other woman looked at her gratefully and set down her cup.

‘Oh, terrible!' she agreed. ‘Did you know her? She was so talented, even from a girl. We used to think she was a genius.' She gave her little high-pitched giggle again.

Mrs Geodrake's intrusion into the conversation focused general attention upon her. Sutane looked at her as though he had never seen her before that particular moment, as perhaps he had not. He turned an inquiring glance upon his wife.

However, Mrs Geodrake, who seemed to be able to see all round her, glanced up before Linda could speak.

‘I wondered when you were going to notice me, Mr Sutane,' she said, smiling at him archly, ‘I'm Jean Geodrake. I live next door to you. I came in this afternoon to sympathise with your wife.'

There was silence while she spoke, and Sutane, who was no more proof against a direct and smiling glance than any other man, looked puzzled without being put out.

‘About the accident,' amplified the lady. ‘Frightful for you all. In your house, I mean.'

Mrs Pole sniffed reproachfully and burst into embarrassing tears. Mrs Geodrake rose to the situation.

‘Oh, of course, you're a relative, aren't you?' she said, turning round upon the other woman. ‘An aunt?'

‘Sister-in-law,' snapped Mrs Pole, a dangerous light in her blue eyes. ‘More like a sister,' she added defiantly.

‘She didn't come to see us much.' The words were blurted out a full tone more loudly than their utterer had intended and Robert Pole's face became a violent crimson. He stood lowering defensively.

Mrs Pole turned on her son.

‘She did, you wicked boy,' she exploded. ‘Didn't we all go up to her new flat? Didn't I put up her curtains? What are you talking about? She was very fond of us. I'm sure Dad, her brother, worshipped her. Why, we were all so pleased when she got on.'

Mrs Geodrake's smile was sweetly diabolical.

‘I'm sure you were,' she murmured. ‘She wasn't born to the stage then?'

Linda intervened with quiet determination.

‘You must have had a dreadful day, Mrs Pole,' she said. ‘Would you care to come upstairs and take off your things?'

‘No, thank you.' The visitor was roused. The glance she bestowed on Mrs Geodrake intimated clearly that she was standing no nonsense from any condescending bit of a countrywoman, however many airs she gave herself. She thanked Mrs Sutane, who no doubt meant well, but she could easily take care of herself – her with her great grief.

‘Chloe's father was quite a wealthy man,' she said with dignity, her red eyes on Mrs Geodrake's eager face. ‘He had her taught dancing from when she was a baby. I've heard Dad, my husband, say that she used to look a little queen in her white dresses. When she was old enough she joined a troupe of properly-looked-after children and danced in pantomime. Later on she struck out for herself. None of us ever thought we'd sit in a coroner's court and hear a jury foreman say they'd brought the verdict in of death by misadventure because of insufficient evidence.'

Both Linda and Mr Campion looked at Sock abruptly. He nodded and turned his head away with a weary gesture.

Mrs Pole was still talking. Her manner was a curious mixture of dignity and defiance and the essential strength of character of the woman was apparent.

‘None of us ever thought we'd learn when it was too late that she was seriously ill, poor girl, that her glands had overgrown and almost any little shock might kill her. If we had we might have been more charitable and understood a lot of her funny little ways.'

Linda sat down beside her.

‘I didn't know she was ill,' she said.

‘Oh, yes! When they operated on her after she was dead, poor girl, they found all this out. It's been a terrible shock to me to hear it all for the first time in an open court. It seems her glands —' Mrs Pole's voice died away into a modest murmuring as she embarked on a subject which she considered her particular province.

Sutane turned away from her with relief and looked again at Mrs Geodrake, who was still smiling with ill-suppressed mischief in her eyes.

‘Why haven't we seen you before?' he inquired politely. ‘We're not often here, of course – or at least I'm not – but how extraordinary we should have missed you altogether.'

He had turned on the full force of his charm and the woman opened before it became human, if still a trifle girlish.

‘Oh, but I've seen
you
,' she said. ‘All of you. One notices people in the country. There are so few people who are faintly interesting. I've seen you all, you and Mrs Sutane and your sister and your little girl. I've seen you, too,' she added, flashing her teeth at Konrad. ‘I nearly spoke to you last night. You didn't notice me.'

She spoke archly and evidently without intentional dramatic effect, but everyone in the room, with the exception of Mrs Pole and her son, paused abruptly, as though a stone had been thrown amongst them. Mrs Pole's lowered voice whispered on.

‘… she was large as a child, inclined to put on weight. It worried her very much. She took things …'

No one was listening to her. Although no one looked at him directly, general attention was concentrated upon Konrad. He was standing before Mrs Geodrake, a cup of tea in his hand. One knee was a little bent and his head was slightly on one side. It was one of his most elegantly careless poses.

‘I don't think you did,' he said.

The woman was blissfully unaware of the sensation she was making. Her loud voice ran happily on.

‘Oh, but I did,' she said. ‘In the lane about – when was it? – ten o'clock.'

Konrad laughed. He sounded rattled.

‘Not guilty, dear lady. It wasn't me.'

‘Oh, but it was,' she insisted, glad to be in the limelight. ‘I passed the end of the lane. Our house is on the lower road and I was going down to the pillar-box. I glanced down the lane, desperately curious to see some of you, and I caught sight of you at once. What am I doing? Dropping bricks? Don't tell me you were going
courting
, as the village says. Now look here, just to prove to you that I'm right I'll tell you what you had on. A yellow pullover and nice clean white flannels. Am I right?'

She glanced round at the rest of the room inquiringly. Her instinct had selected Konrad as an unpopular figure and she was teasing him in an innocent if misguided effort to ingratiate herself with the other men.

Konrad drew back from her as if she had stung him and his expression became sullen. When he did not speak at all Sutane stepped in to save the silence.

‘Quite right, Mrs Geodrake. He's indicted. Tell me, what do you do with yourself down here all day?'

His quiet affable question relieved the situation, but as the visitor plunged into a tedious recital of her daily round, with an accent on its undeniable dullness, his dark eyes rested upon Konrad speculatively.

Eve and Sock watched him also and Campion was interested.

The hero of the Speedo Club retired to the hearth and took up a languid position against it. He looked profoundly uncomfortable.

Half-way through Mrs Geodrake's recital Mrs Pole suddenly became aware that she had lost her audience. She put down her cup, wiped her fingers on her wet handkerchief and began drawing on her skinny black kid gloves.

‘We shall have the funeral from our house,' she said to Linda, but in a tone clearly intended to bring the whole room to order. ‘I've given your husband the address and the flowers had better be sent there. It will save a lot of trouble in the long run. I quite realise there'll be a lot of publicity, but I'm prepared to put up with that. She was a very popular girl and it's only natural her friends on both sides of the footlights should want to come and pay their respects. You can trust me to see that it's all done nicely. I must be off now because I've got to call at the stationer's before seven and buy the cards. They ought to be put in the post at once. Oh dear, oh dear, it is a shock!'

Her feelings overcame her again and she rubbed her red eyes. ‘I can't help it,' she said to Linda, her voice breaking. ‘She was all alone in the world, you see, in spite of – well – of everything.'

The thought which had only just escaped expression seemed to embarrass her and, as was evidently the habit in her family, she combated it with a burst of vigorous self-justification.

‘After all, she was an actress in her way,' she said angrily. ‘Everyone knows actresses are different to other people. They have more temptation, for one thing. Men flatter them and give them presents and they have to be nice because it's part of their work. She was a good girl, I'm sure – at least her family always thought so, and now's the time to be charitable if ever, when the poor soul's lying dead.'

This perfunctory dismissal of what had been both Chloe Pye's life work and chief publicity plank had the ruthlessness of a pronouncement of Time itself and the more sensitive of them shivered a little. Arch, inviting Chloe Pye was dead indeed. It was like the drawer closing on a last year's hat.