the maltese angel (6 page)

He returned her smile and, nodding, walked around her outstretched leg and seated himself in the chair which stood within a few feet of her own; and she turned to face him fully and said, "It was very kind of you to come to the show." She did not add, 'so often'.

He knew his colour had risen as he replied, "You noticed me, then?"

"Yes. Yes, I noticed you."

"I ...1 enjoyed your dancing."

"Thank you."

He sat looking at her in silence now. She had a nice voice, different from any he had heard, except perhaps that of Colonel Ramsmore's wife or of Mrs. Hopkins, when either the one or the other opened the

fair.

Yet there was nothing high-falutin about it, like theirs; but it was different. Oh yes, it was different. She was different all round:

different from her stage appearance; different from what he had

expected her to be off stage; but she looked so young. He was slightly surprised to hear himself voicing his thoughts: "You looked young on the stage, but pardon my saying, you look much younger off."

She now leant back against the padded head of the high-backed chair, and she laughed as she said, "I'm a very deceptive person. I shall be nineteen on my next birthday."

He found he was so relieved that he, too, laughed back as he said

brightly, "My! no-one would ever guess it," a remark which made her neither blush nor become coy, but divert any further allusion by

asserting, "Mrs. Killjoy is a wonderful woman, a wonderful friend, but she is very bad at betting and I have proved her wrong so many

times, for by next week I shall certainly be dancing again. But in Sunderland. That is our next booking. "

He did not wonder why she said this, but he repeated, "Sunderland?"

then nodded at her, saying, "I often pop down to Sunderland. How long are you likely to be there?"

"Just a week, I think."

"Oh. Only a week." Another inane remark, he thought;

then he asked, "Where do you live ... I mean your home?"

She turned her gaze away from him and looked towards her foot, and she seemed to sigh before she said, "Wherever we are playing: I have no settled home."

"No?" The syllable held a note of surprise, and she answered, "My parents were on the stage too. My mother was a dancer, and my father sang. And so I've always been on the move. I think it was a year

after my father brought my mother from Malta that we settled in

Bristol, because I wasn't born until the following year. And that was in York, and two days after Christmas Day."

He did not remark on her Christmas birth, but asked, "Your parents ..

they are ... ?"

Her answer was without false sentiment: "They are dead," she said.

"My mother died of smallpox, and a year later my father was drowned.

But that was almost six years ago. Since then Mr. and Mrs. Killjoy have been almost like parents to me."

"I'm sure. I'm sure." His head was nodding, but he could find no more to say; he felt utterly tongue-tied, all he could do was listen to his thoughts: she was beautiful, but of a different beauty to that which she showed from the stage. The word that suited her there, he

supposed, would be ethereal, not quite of this world. But this girl was of this world. And she seemed at ease in it. There was a

quietness about her. And yet her eyes were merry, and she smiled

often. He wished he could see her standing up; he didn't know how tall she would be. She was very slim. Well, she would have to be very

slim, wouldn't she, and of no weight to be hanging from that wire?

"Now you've heard all about my life, so may I ask about yours? Mrs.

Killjoy says you're a farmer. That sounds so interesting. It must be wonderful dealing with animals. I love the poodles." She indicated a door at the end of the room as if that was where the dogs were.

He could answer her now: he gave a short laugh as he said, "Not so wonderful when you have to get up on a winter morning around five, because you know, cows wear watches." He actually pulled a face at her.

"And they don't like it if you're a bit late; they kick up a row."

She was laughing outright now, as she repeated his words: "Cows wear watches. Have you many?"

"Eighteen milkers and six youngsters coming on ... heifers, you know; and three horses, one for the trap or riding. Her name is Betsy. And two Shires .. you know, the big horses. I am sure you've seen them pulling the beer drays; well, mine pull the plough and many other

things. "

"Oh, yes. Yes. And they are lovely. Have you got ducks?"

"Oh, yes; ducks, chickens, a few geese. And pigs, of course. All that you expect to find on a farm."

"Have you always lived on a farm?"

"Always. And my father, and his father, and his father before him."

She was staring at him again. Her face had been smiling; but now the smile slid away and her hand came out tentatively as if she were about to touch him;

but she withdrew it quickly as she said, "I ... I noticed you've had an injury to your face."

"Oh that." He fingered the two thin lines of dried scab.

"I had a sort of accident."

"With ... with an animal?"

He could have replied, "Yes, a bitch;' instead, he said, " A wild cat got into the barn. I must have surprised her, frightened her. She

sprang down from . a sort of

5i

platform that's found in some barns' his hand wavered over his brow'

and her claws caught me. "

"Oh dear! It must have been very frightening, and painful."

His manner was offhand now as he said, "The only thing is, it's a nuisance. I find it difficult to shave."

"Yes. Yes, of course."

At this point the far door opened and Mr. and Mrs. Killjoy entered the room. On Ward's rising to his feet, the woman exclaimed loudly, at the same time wagging her finger at the young girl, "Now that's the action of a gentleman. You can always tell a gentleman if he'll get off his backside ... I meaner she slanted her gaze at him' rises from his seat when a woman enters the room."

"Oh, Mrs. Killjoy."

The finger wagged again.

"Well, you know me by now, Stephanie: I say what's in my mind, and I can't stop it, because there's a leak there."

The large body shook with laughter, in which her husband joined. Then turning to Ward, she said, "Would you like to stop and have a bite of supper? Mrs. Borman says there's enough for all, and plenty of it."

He did not immediately answer; then he said, "I'm sorry; but I'll have to be going. Another time, though, if I am allowed to call' he glanced towards the girl " I'd be very pleased to accept. "

"Oh, you'd be quite welcome to call again, 'cos there she is--' Mrs.

Killjoy turned to the now embarrassed girl, crying, " Well, you're sitting there all day by yourself;

you'll be glad of company. " Then to Ward, she ended, " Yes, you'd be welcome. She's too shy to say so, but I'm asking it for her. "

It was to the girl he spoke again; "Well, if I may, it would be in the evening," he said.

She merely inclined her head towards him; and at this, he swung about and hurried from the room, with Mrs. Killjoy endeavouring to keep pace behind him.

As she helped him into his coat she remarked in an undertone, "You weren't mistaken in your opinion, were you?"

He turned and looked at this surprising woman, and he said soberly,

"No, Mrs. Killjoy, you're right, I wasn't. And I will call again at the first opportunity."

"I'm sure, you will, son. I'm sure you will." She patted him on the shoulder now; then handing him his hat and coat she opened the door and, with a wave of her hand, ushered him out.

It was still pouring, and he had the inclination to run, not from the rain, but just to relieve his feelings. She was right. She was

right:

he hadn't been wrong in his opinion. But the girl wasn't an angel. No, she wasn't an angel; she was a girl of nineteen, and she was sweet, lovely, beautiful .. very beautiful. God send tomorrow soon.

Back in the parlour of the boarding house, Mrs. Killjoy was sitting facing Stephanie McQueen, and she was addressing her as Fanny.

"Fanny," she was saying, 'look .. look at us . Ken and me. We're nearly on our last legs. I'm getting past falling flat on my face on those boards every night, sometimes twice nightly. Even without

Charlie and Rose attacking me in the backside I could fall down many a night, for me legs an' me back are kinin' me. Now, you know, we've got a little bit put by: and we're on the look-out for that little cottage with a patch of garden. It's been the dream of our life. It's

forty-three years since I took over from my dad, and I'm nearing the end of the road. As for Ken, I don't know how he keeps going. Now!

now! " She held up her hand.

"Hear me out. You've been like a daughter to us since your folks went.

And I promised your mum I'd always keep an eye on you. And I've done that, haven't I?"

Stephanie's hands came out and gripped the podgy ones, and, her voice breaking and with tears in her eyes, she said, "Oh! Mrs. Killjoy. You know what I think about

you, what I think about you both. I would never have got along

without you. And I don't think I ever could .. "

"Oh yes, you could, 'cos you've got an excellent turn. But how long is it going to last? That's what I'm worried about. Look at that." She pointed to the foot resting on the stool.

"That can happen again at any time. And anywhere. And that's the point: if you're on your own, what's to become of you, with all the sharks about? And and' now she was wagging her hand 'it's no use

saying you can take care of yourself. No girl can take care of herself when she looks like you and she's in this racket. You've had some

experience already, haven't you? But there hasn't been anyone like him before. Now, I'm going to talk plainly. He's a country fella. That's evident. And he's not of the upper class. That's also evident. But what is fully evident is he's certainly not of the clodhopper or

farmworker class either. He's what I would call a respectable young country fella; and he owns his own farm ..."

"Mrs. Killjoy, dear' the girl sighed " I've just met him for the first time. Yes, I'm aware I noticed him on the second night, and on the third and the fourth; but nevertheless, I've actually met him only a moment ago:

I couldn't possibly think of him as .. "

"Now listen to me. I don't expect you to think of him in any way yet;

but he's going to call, and if he's come four times to the show he'll come four times here next week. "

"I could be back at work next week."

Mrs. Killjoy looked towards the slim ankle and she nodded as she said,

"Yes. Yes; I know you've been using those hands of yours, and I'm not saying you couldn't be back at work next week, because I also know the power you have in them you got Beattie on to her feet when I never expected her to be on the boards again but I'm asking you a favour, and it is a favour: let your hands alone for the next day or so until you get better acquainted with him, then say what you think. Will you do that for me, Fanny?"

Stephanie hesitated for a moment; then she smiled and said, "Yes. You know I will; I'll do anything for you;

but don't count on the result, please. And stop worrying about me and think of yourself and Mr. Ken more, and get into that cottage soon.

"

"Well, let's put it this way: we'll think of the cottage once we've got you settled."

"Oh! Mrs. Killjoy."

"Oh! Miss Stephanie McQueen." And now the woman, shaking with laughter, hugged the slim body to her, whilst she asked, "If you had to choose between Mr. Harry Henley, that loud-mouth juggler, or the

Honourable James Wilson Carter, so called, with his mimes, rhymes, and readings ... educated idiot that be is, and our farmer, who would you choose?"

"No-one of them, at the moment, Mrs. Killjoy. No- one of them."

"Annie, I would like you to make something suitable for a tea in the parlour tomorrow."

"Oh aye?" Annie took up a canister and sprinkled flour liberally over a large wooden board resting on the kitchen table before adding, "And what would you have in mind?"

"As I said, something suitable for tea in the parlour, like you used to make years gone by for Sunday tea:

scones, griddles, and little fancies. "

"Oh aye?" Annie lifted a large lump of dough out of a brown earthenware bowl and dropped it on to the floured board; and not until she started to knead it did she say further, "And how many company are to be expected?"

"Only three."

"Only three?"

"That's what I said, only three. But accompanied by four dogs."

This last remark turned Annie from the board, flapping her

flour-covered hands together, then wiping them on her apron, as she cried, "Four dogs! People don't bring dogs to afternoon tea."

"This company does." He was smiling at her now, knowing he had her full attention.

"Don't worry; they're only little dogs ... poodles."

"Poodles?" She screwed up her face.

"Like Pekingese? Them like Pekingese?"

"No; larger; they're performing dogs."

"Oo ... h." Her lips described the word, and she went on, "Now I get it. Performing dogs. The guests are from the stage, aren't they?"

"Yes, you're right, Annie, they're from the stage. But you should have guessed that long before now."

"I hope you know what you're doin'."

"I know what I'm doing." The banter had gone from his voice.

"And I would like you to be civil to them, because I might as well tell you, Annie, if I have my way one of them will soon be mistress of this house."

Annie stared at him for fully five seconds before she turned back to her baking board, saying quietly, "Well, it's your house and you're the master; but I've had concern for you since you were born, and so I can only say I hope your choice is the right one. But we'll have to wait and see, won't we?"

"Yes, Annie, just as you say. Anyway, they'll be here around three o'clock. I hope the table will look nice."