A Little Tea, a Little Chat

by Christina Stead

  He took up the paper and began skimming the pages, threw it down, walked round the room, then sat by the writing desk. He put on his spectacles, glanced through a letter and threw it at Gilbert, “Read that. Tell me what you make of it. Read it aloud, I want to make up my mind.”

  Gilbert read,

  Dear Bert,

  This is to tell you that Maxwell and I are in Florida where we have opened a boarding house and hope to make some money before the winter is over. Maxwell is well. We went in with my brother who has already made a good profit in the grocery and frozen foods business down here…

  “Never mind, never mind, it’s from Flora Hopkins,” said the father impatiently, his eyes wandering.

  He said after a moment, “I went on a couple of parties with Violetta, no reason for her to hang herself round my neck. She looks like a nice girl, you can’t credit it. Would you believe”—he supplied his son with some details of the parties; then coming to attention—“I saved that woman’s life, Flora Hopkins and her imbecile of a husband’s life. He went bankrupt, owed me money, owed everybody money, also he had cheated—taken money out of the till. She came to me crying, ‘Do something, Maxwell will cut his throat.’ Would have, too. A weakling. I consoled her and sent a message to Maxwell, ‘I won’t get after you and I’ll speak to the others.’ I lost two thousand, seven hundred dollars. I said, ‘Never mind it, wipe it off the slate!’ She came crying to me three times…Looks as if he’s doing well, eh? Think I’ll get it back? Listen, I got a letter here, see what you think of it. Give me your opinion.

  Dear Flora,

  I am glad to hear you have gone to Florida and are doing so well, the same being true of your brother. It is past the Christmas season, when I had many expenses and had some shocks when I made up my yearly accounts and saw that I had taken quite a beating on several items, so that I could very well do with the payment of some outstanding debts. You will remember how close we were and that I had the advantage of doing you a little favor when Maxwell was thinking of putting an end to his days. I got you out of that spot. Can you send me a check for $1,000 to reimburse me in part for the debt of those days, that is, $2,700? You can pay me the rest later, as I suppose you have some financial future down there. My regards to Maxwell and tell him I am glad he is a different man economically and morally from those days when he thought of cutting his throat. Kindest regards to you both, and love to the children,

  Yours, etc.

  Eh? H’m? To the point?”

  “It’s too mean, it’s raw!”

  “Raw? Try and ask for money in a polite way! You don’t get it. It’s my money. I saved her life, she would have been a widow begging her bread, but I said, ‘Wipe it off the slate.’ They owe it to me. He’s alive because of me. He can pay one thousand dollars for his own life—and cash. I want the balance in notes. Eh?”

  While they were wrangling over this, with Grant thinking up saltier and rougher expressions “to scare them, that fellow’s afraid of his shadow—mention death to him and he’ll weep tears of blood, he won’t even go to see a sick child, he thinks it’s a trick of the Grim Reaper to catch him—” while this was going on, with Grant bubbling over in fresh laughter, the desk called him to tell him that Mrs. Downs was below. His eyes began to shine, and he waved his arm energetically at his son. He said, “Send her up.”

  Then he did several paces and a fantastic minuet, rushed in for his coat, and came out, slicking down his hair.

  “I’m delighted you’re here, my boy. You’ll hear everything. She is blackmailing, the bloody ’ooman.”

  This caused him to burst out into a yell of laughter. He pushed his son into the bedroom and said, “Sit there behind the door and you will hear a peach of a line. That bloody ’ooman’s got them all licked for sheer brass and by God—”

  He heard the elevator stop at his floor and pushed the young man down the corridor, following him and whispering energetically that he must be his witness. He must take notes.

  44

  Mrs. Downs wore a beaver coat that Grant had never seen, with a little fur toque, a platinum and diamond pin. She wore several bracelets, of which two had come from Grant, and a small pair of fur-rimmed boots.

  Grant gave her a stare, “You look like a duchess today. You don’t look like hard times.”

  “You look as if you’re going on a long trip.”

  Grant walked round her, in surprise, “Isn’t that one of Goodwin’s?”

  She threw the coat on a chair.

  “That’s window-dressing. Alfred said a jury doesn’t ask, ‘Where did she get the clothes?’ but, ‘Is she attractive?’ He lent me the coat.”

  “What jury?”

  “Oh, my dear Robert, please don’t torture me; I have enough on my mind. You know well enough what jury, unless you have lost your memory, which would be out of character. The case Downs vs. Downs is on the calendar, and will come up in ten days if we don’t do something to stop that man. Knowing this, Alfred advised me to make a last plea to Walker to see Churchill’s lawyer and try for a settlement. Alfred said, ‘I am sure Robert is just as anxious to avoid publicity as you are; you can depend on him backing any settlement agreement you make.’ I agreed with this, knowing what you stood to lose, Robert. I wore this outfit to Walker’s to look like money and it worked. I would advise you not to make any wisecracks, but to listen to what I have got to say. I know you’re hard-headed; and you are anxious for a settlement out of court…It is no extortion, no illegal action as you suggested on the telephone, Robbie, very incorrectly, but any payment you made would be, from Churchill’s point of view, in satisfaction of breach of a contract. True, I breached the contract, but you were my accomplice and I have no money that is not Churchill’s. Furthermore, you owe it to me, since on account of you, I have not received any allowance from Churchill for the past three months.”

  “As to that, my good woman, you must sue him for that,” said Grant.

  “Don’t call me my good woman. The point is to reach amicable settlement without trial, I think. Many cases are settled out of court and there is no extortion in those cases, as you suggested. Now I should like to show you, Robbie, that during these few years you have associated with me as a friend, you have broken the law about nineteen times; for example, you are liable under the Mann law, adultery and fornication are punishable in the State of New York, you aided a fraud when you paid my fare to Reno and expenses there, for I was evading the New York State law on divorce. I am only referring to the man-and-woman aspect of our relations—”

  “Blackmail!” said Grant in angry agitation.

  “You are vindictive and stupid. I am on your side and all you can do is to say blackmail and extortion. We have been in business together and we have done no differently from anyone who made money. But the law does not pity those who are caught and say, ‘Go in peace, my son,’ because others are criminals too. No, it is you who have to bear the punishment for the other black sheep. Now don’t take that tone, Robert, for we will get nowhere. Also, let us discuss this in a business matter: let us leave out personalities and accusations and try to see it in an impartial manner, as outsiders would see it.”

  “I’m damned if every outsider wouldn’t see it as blackmail and your husband as a pimp.”

  “Yes, throw your bombs, let them burst in my hair, and when you are finished, I will go on with what I have to say.”

  “For God’s sake, then, say what you have to say.”

  “For God’s sake! I am afraid that God has nothing to do with the matter. We have both been guilty, Robert, and I am trying to pull us out of the mud but you do nothing but attempt to escape the consequences in flight, leaving me to bear all the disgrace. My position is very, very serious, most unenviable, but particularly because Churchill acted as no gentleman would, and sneaked and spied on me, set detectives on me when I was unsuspecting, and so by mere surveillance got me once in a compromising situation by no fault of my own. I never expected such treatment at the hand
s of a gentleman. Gentlemen are overestimated, that is my experience. Photographs were taken of this situation and others. Alfred, Walker, and Churchill’s lawyer have seen these photographs. It is not the sort of thing they would care to let a woman look at; and not the sort of thing you would care to look at, Robert.”

  “Shh! Never mind about the photomontages—” said he.

  “Very well, but don’t be so glib, the truth of one set of photographs, accidental, lying, lends color to others.”

  “You mean color photographs?” he said in alarm.

  “Now, why will I be called to defend myself in this case? Because only one set of facts have been presented, but they are Churchill’s side of the case. I need a lot of money to present mine and I see no possibility of raising that money; therefore what will go before the jury in this case which is now on the calendar will be his, not mine, not yours. Such an action, whether successful or a failure, can only result in ruin for me and you, and of course will make Churchill ridiculous, but he has run amok and does not care about that. We all have our own lives to lead, we have to protect our privacy and the sanctity of our own soul. We are only human beings and we are facing a mad bull, a Hitler who would tear down everything to satisfy a private vengeance. Therefore, I think we had better settle the whole thing as quickly as possible before our dirty linen is dragged into public.”

  “They’ve got nothing on me! If I were you I’d get a look at the photographs. You could have a look at them, very cheap; or get Walker to describe them to you. You say Goodwin’s seen them?”

  He paced up and down.

  “It seems this ‘Brauner, Arthur’ showed Churchill how to install a dictaphone, and Churchill did not hesitate to stoop to use it.”

  “How long was it installed before you knew?”

  “How do I know? Churchill’s counsel has it and he is very mean.”

  “What can Churchill hope to get—financially?”

  “He hopes it will be so bad that someone will stop the case.”

  “Someone—me? Or the others—”

  “Whoever is in the photographs. And the dictaphone records.”

  “That’s not liberty or democracy, to allow the use of such methods,” said Grant.

  “That’s what I say, Robert; but we are dealing with a very fascist sort of man. Churchill has only enough brains to be a fascist. Now I have talked this over and I believe that if he were offered fifteen thousand dollars, plus the expenses to Reno, and my future assured, he would settle. It is no use saying it is extortion, he feels he has been wounded, and in law a breached contract and other injuries are allowed money satisfaction. He would be only acting as a wronged man in suggesting it, and sincere in accepting it. He would even be intelligent, to accept it rather than go through an expensive, shameful lawsuit which would expose me and other people. He has a human side. He feels it would be better for all parties. Think, he is in a good legal position, but he prefers to settle.”

  “He won’t get a penny out of me,” roared Grant.

  “Then we will go into court and you will further be guilty of perjury. You always quibble, even when people say ‘Good day.’”

  “You’re acting for Downs,” said Grant.

  “No. He has counsel, he has no need of me. I am acting for us all. I do not wish there to be a trial. Think of what would happen to me! I have never been in any trouble.”

  “When I met you—that wasn’t trouble?”

  “No. That was bad luck.”

  “H’m. I advise you to try to make some sort of settlement, of course, but the figure is preposterous. No one would pay it. What about Alexis?”

  “Naturally, I will ask him too. But he says he is not guilty—like you, Robert.”

  “The chief thing is to get a look at those records they say they have.”

  “Also there is testimony from his detectives and hotel people.”

  “The photographs are the main thing. Get a look at them. I’d pay to get them into my hands.”

  “They’re worth fifteen thousand dollars,” she said, and got up and walked about.

  “Am I as good as that?” he said with a sudden laugh. He looked at her for a moment, then began softly, “Why should he get it? The man’s got no character to act as a pimp for his own wife. Why divide the spoils? Or you and I will divide it, that means you get half and no one else knows. We don’t want any transactions with strangers.”

  “I’ve got to get a divorce and pay my lawyers and provide for the future. My salad days are gone. I want to return to normal life.”

  “Where is—the other fella—X?”

  She hesitated.

  Grant said, “He’s not here, he ran out on you. He told me he was going to California and then to Mexico! That’s it, he’s not here. He won’t be back for three years!”

  She said, “I wouldn’t know.”

  “Every king looks the same on a postage stamp, every man looks the same at the back of his head—even if he’s tonsured, and X has a hair-comb like me. Oh-ho-ho. Why didn’t I think of it before? He thought he had me cornered and he just chased me out onto the broad rolling plains—oh-ho! Does he think I’m going to put my finger in my eye and answer to a charge of adultery, am I going to be a co-respondent when they’re a hundred washing their feet in the public fountain in the public square? Grab one boy, haul him up by the neck to the magistrate. All right, but not me. Oh-ho-ho. You got to see them, Barb. If it isn’t surely me—and them voices, oh-ho-ho! Under certain circumstances, for example, at Echo Point and in a tunnel, and in swimming under water men’s voices all sound the same and on those machines too, on the phone, on the radio, who can tell? You can’t tell your own brother! No, sir! I’m out. That’s out. I’m not a schoolboy. Blackmail. I’ll sue him for blackmail. He sent a woman to me, his wife, for blackmail. He used his wife as an instrument and agent and provocateur of blackmail. He’s the one that’s going on the stand, he’s the one will be disgraced. Oh, Churchill Downs, you’re a respectable man and have a standing in society, but you’re no better than a fascist blackguard when it comes to a woman, for you use women as your innocent agents for blackmail! The woman does not know what she is doing. She parrots something she heard in the mouths of crooked lawyers and fools like Goodwin and her own husband, who taught her and led her into crime and used her weakness for crime. Is that a pretty picture? That’s a prettier picture than the photomontage. No, my dear girl, I won’t run out on you, I’ll stay and see it through. And I’ll charge—blackmail, extortion, pressure, threats, stress, strain, using the mails for fraud. If I have nineteen charges, he’ll have twenty-one. Don’t trouble yourself, my dear woman, I’ll say, ‘I gave her money when she was down and out, I asked no questions. I was her friend. What is he? He turns a respectable woman into a gun moll,’ I’ll say, ‘When I knew her she was living a dubious sort of life. I asked no questions, but treated her as a sister and gave her something to eat. When he married her according to the law, he turned her into an extortioner: this respectable man, this magnificent gentleman—’”

  He paused. Then he whirled round, with his arms spread out, and gave way to an excess of gaiety.

  The blonde woman said acidly, “You won’t get out of it that way. It is going to be a hard business for all of us. He hangs on like a bulldog. He has his teeth in me and he will get them in you. I recommend you to think over his offer; after all, he is being fair to you in even thinking of it.”

  “It shows how hysterical he is to ask fifteen thousand dollars for—what I had—”

  “I do not think you will make a very good witness. I am trying to put this from your own point of view. I want to see you come out of it safe and sound.”

  “I won’t appear.”

  45

  As he walked up and down, once more troubled, the telephone rang and Grant, answering, said sharply, “Mrs. Grant? I don’t know a Mrs. Grant.”

  He listened and said, “I have no wife named Mrs. Gr—” There was a pause, he put his hand ove
r the mouthpiece and said softly, “Mrs. Grant? It can’t be Mary? Good God!”

  He said into the phone, “Ask her to wait a few minutes. Eh?”

  He slapped down the receiver and said, “She’s coming up! Gilbert!”

  Gilbert came out of the bedroom. He said earnestly, “Dad, I asked Mother to come. I thought things had got into a tangle you couldn’t untie.”

  Grant looked at them for a second, seized his hat and stick, and rushed to the door, saying, “You got yourself in it—get yourself out of it,” and leaving the door open, he rushed to the staircase.

  The blonde woman recovered herself, sat down, and began making up her face. Gilbert thoughtlessly closed the door, looked at Mrs. Downs with a great air of rectitude, even pleasure, “I didn’t mean to get you into a thing like this, or Mother either.”

  “I can take care of myself, my dear boy. I am thirty-five years old. One sees a lot in thirty-five years. But what will you say to Little Dixie?”

  The young man started.

  “Your mother is very rich, isn’t she? She can keep herself?”

  The young man looked indignantly at Mrs. Downs. The elevator stopped at their floor and he opened the door. The woman said, “I know everything—Gilbert—everything—remember.”

  Gilbert welcomed his mother. She was a dumpy, handsome woman with dark eyes and plain white hair cut short. She wore a rich fur coat, black coat and skirt and white silk blouse, and wore plain shoes. She took in the disorder, the woman sitting in the basket chair, said with cold, mincing delicacy to her son, “Who is this lady?”

  Gilbert hesitated. The blonde woman looked inquiringly at him, while Mrs. Grant went forward and looked long at the valises. Gilbert introduced the women now. Mrs. Downs brought out her card case and handed a card to Mrs. Grant, saying, “I am waiting for your husband. I found him out.”