Death of a Gay Dog

by Anne Morice

  Guy Robinson said that, for no reason at all, he was irresistibly reminded of a screamingly funny remark which Noel had once made at a party and which made him laugh every time he thought of it, a claim which he then proceeded to substantiate.

  Nancy Harper Barrington entreated Robin to assure her that he was not one of those fabulous bridge-players who were practically professionals, since she and Roger made it an absolute rule to limit the stakes to a pound a hundred. Robin replied that she had better count him out, a decision which I privately applauded, seeing that he had not played bridge since he left prep school, when the stakes had been limited to whipped-cream walnuts.

  Sir Maddox, meanwhile, was extolling the wonders of the Hermitage to the table in general, soon provoking Xenia to the categorical statement that every single picture within its walls was a fake, all the originals having been sold by the Bolsheviks in 1917. For some reason, this announcement sent him into peals of laughter, although, oddly enough, Christabel was now the main target of his derision.

  ‘Can we let her get away with such nonsense, Chrissie? Come along! Stand up for me, please!’

  ‘I know nothing about it,’ she replied in her most surly voice. ‘Why should I? I’ve only been to Russia once in my life and the only thing I remember is the subway.’

  ‘Oh, you’re too modest, that’s your trouble, my dear. It always was, if I remember.’

  ‘Talking of Hermitages,’ I said to my host, feeling a duty, for Robin’s sake, not to let such a promising opening slip by, ‘you seem to have quite a gallery here, yourself. Isn’t that Dubuffet over the fireplace?’

  ‘That? Oh yes, believe it is. Can’t say I care much for it, but people in the know tell me I got it dirt cheap. You’re pretty well up in this art lark, are you?’

  ‘No, I’m terribly ignorant, but do tell me –’

  ‘Unlike me,’ Toby said. ‘I know everything about art, except what I like. I got that from the back number of Punch,’ he added, acknowledging my squeak of laughter. ‘I can see it’s going to be quite a goldmine.’

  ‘Looks like you two have the advantage of me,’ Guy told us, using the Texan drawl this time. ‘I jes cain’t seem to figure out this culture racket, doggone it. Mrs Robinson, now, she’s different, but I guess you have to be born and bred in little old Yurrup to appreciate art. Take this here Dooboofay, ma’am, you were speaking of; jes don’t mean a damn thing to me.’

  Even Toby was silenced by this monologue, but Aunt Moo was rarely at a loss for the mot juste. She observed that buffets were all very well in their way, but they could give her a hot dinnah, any day of the week.

  This provoked ringing laughter from Sir Maddox and, to signify her disapproval, Christabel ostentatiously turned her back on him and addressed herself to Anabel:

  ‘How’s poor old Prince coming along?’

  Tears of gratitude filled Anabel’s eyes for this kind attention, but unfortunately the shock of being spoken to in civil terms caused her to jab her spoon too violently into the bomb surprise. Whereupon, to the surprise of no one, it split in half and bombarded her frilly white lap.

  So, in a sense, we were all back where we had started, with the merciful difference that Nancy chose to ignore the incident. She permitted herself one venomous glance in Anabel’s direction then raised her eyebrows and escorted half the party out of the room.

  (iii)

  ‘Your husband tells me that neither of you is frantically keen on bridge,’ Nancy said, when I had finished commiserating with her on the bad proportions of her bedroom and the many inconveniences attached to a sunken bath.

  ‘But please don’t let that spoil your game. We shall be quite happy to be left out, and we’re dying to have a proper look at your pictures.’

  ‘The trouble is that Christabel’s being here has upset things completely. Don’t get me wrong, my dear; I think she’s a simply marvellous person, for her age, and I’d have invited her in the first place, if I’d known she was a friend of yours. But the poor old thing can hardly see the cards nowadays and it’s a bit rough on her partners. If it wouldn’t absolutely bore you to extinction, Roger thinks we should show one or two of the films he shot on our trip round the world.’

  All my diligent practice with the saintly smile came in handy just then and I murmured that it would be delightful.

  ‘But you would be utterly frank, my dear, and tell me if you simply hated the idea? One knows home movies are a bit of a joke, but Roger is so frightfully proud of his efforts and I must admit that one or two people we’ve shown them to have been absolutely stunned.’

  ‘I know we shall be, too,’ I assured her.

  ‘He took some really fabulous views of the Angkor Wat. Admittedly, one could hardly fail with it, could one? You’ve been there, I expect?’

  ‘No, never.’

  ‘You know, in that case, my dear, I honestly think you ought to see this film. They laid on some dancers for us and it’s really quite something. I can promise you’ll be fascinated.’

  ‘But I shan’t, my dear, you know,’ I confided to Christabel, during a quiet conference in the bathroom. ‘For some reason, I only find places fascinating on the screen when I’ve seen them in real life. I go quite mad with excitement over a shot of Hyde Park, whereas the Red Square is just a drag. I can’t understand why.’

  ‘It won’t make a damn bit of difference to me,’ she replied. ‘The Angkor Wat could just as well be Haverford Market Place for all I’ll see of it. I’ve come without my distance glasses. That fool, Brand, dragged me out of the house in such a hurry that I picked up the wrong pair. Still, if we do have the Red Square, we’ll get a few more rockets from Xenia, which may liven things up a bit. So typical of Nancy to invite her and Brand on the same evening.’

  ‘Why did she, I wonder?’

  ‘Because she’s a bloody idiot and imagines that everyone else is just as impressed as she is by a pantomime emigre princess, believe it or not.’

  ‘And do she and Maddox always have this slanging match when they meet?’

  ‘Oh, it’s six of one and half-dozen of the other. She quarrels with everyone and he goes out of his way to needle her. Also, she has a special grudge because he puts it around that she doesn’t know the first thing about antiques, and the shop is just a cover up for some illegal practice.’

  ‘True?’

  ‘Shouldn’t think so, but that’s Brand all over. Never was such a mischief-maker.’

  ‘Yes, I even noticed him trying to get a rise out of you.’

  Christabel advanced on the mirror until her nose was practically touching it, then retreated abruptly as though taken aback by what she saw, which was small wonder. Her hair gave the impression that she had begun by building a bird’s nest in it, but lost interest in the project half-way through.

  ‘Oh, me,’ she said vaguely. ‘He doesn’t bother me, any more than a wasp buzzing in my ear. He wants me out, as you know, but he won’t succeed and that’s all I care about. Just let them leave me in peace for my last few years, and they can all go to hell, as far as I’m concerned.’

  Unaware of this modest ambition, our hostess tapped on the door and discreetly reminded us that we were hogging the bathroom.

  ‘Such a bore, only having three,’ she complained, as we emerged in a fluster. ‘Honestly, this is the most vilely planned house I’ve ever lived in.’

  Bearing Christabel’s warning in mind, I was at my most circumspect when Sir Maddox approached me in the drawing-room, with his springy, youthful gait and a cup of coffee in each hand. It had struck me that there were enough cross-currents running through this gathering to trip us all up, without my charging the emotional atmosphere still further, and his arch expression put me still more on my guard.

  Sure enough, he dropped straight into a corny, flirtatious banter:

  ‘Well, well, what a mysterious little person it is, to be sure! I didn’t recognise you at first. You look so demure tonight, one feels butter wouldn’t melt in the mouth, b
ut who could forget that lovely face for long?’

  I had no idea who could, so kept the enigmatic smile in place.

  ‘Though rather a prim face, just at the moment, if I may say so.’

  There seemed no way of preventing him, since he had already said it, but, although he could not have been aware of it, he was treading on thin ice. My new look had already been described as govemessy and dowdy; and prim was no improvement. However, there was a growing risk that the epithet of crashing bore might be added to all the rest if I continued to cast my pearls before swine, so I aroused myself to a semblance of amiability:

  ‘It was awfully kind of you to give me a lift and you may think I was purposely making some mystery out of where I was staying, but it wasn’t like that at all.’

  He took a gold case from his pocket, extracted a cigarette, lighted it from a giant, family-size Aladdin’s lamp on the coffee table and then handed me the burning cigarette:

  ‘You do smoke, I notice.’

  ‘But you do not?’ I asked, seeing no way of rejecting this gallantry without giving offence.

  ‘No, never; although I am all for allowing my friends to go to perdition, in their own fashion.’

  ‘Do you carry cigarettes around just for their benefit?’

  ‘Oh, certainly. A lighter, too, as a rule, though I seem to have mislaid that. Does it surprise you?’

  It left me totally and tremendously unmoved, as it happened, but still mindful of my p’s and q’s I simulated a mild curiosity.

  ‘So now we are quits! You gave me a little riddle, the first time we met, and now I have retaliated. Can you think of a better start to a beautiful friendship?’

  ‘No, I can’t, but what riddle do you mean?’ I asked, hoping the enigmatic smile might be coming up trumps, after all.

  ‘The riddle of the damsel in distress, who was stopping at The Towers and didn’t wish her Galahad to know. May he try and guess?’

  ‘Yes, do, if you like, but I am afraid the answer is rather unpoetical.’

  ‘Then would I be far out if I said that some rather prosaic family connection were involved?’

  ‘Getting warm,’ I told him, struggling to keep my end up in this idiotic game.

  ‘Ah! Then may I just whisper what I think the explanation might be and you shall nod your head, if I am right?’

  I reluctantly agreed and, leaning unpleasantly close, he murmured:

  ‘Shall we say that you preferred to keep a certain relationship dark?’

  I jerked back as sharply as though he had actually bitten my ear.

  ‘Oh, no. At least, not if you mean what I think you mean. It was nothing like that at all.’

  He smiled complacently, glancing across the room at Aunt Moo, who happened to be in earnest conversation with Guy Robinson. I could tell, from her graphic gestures and my own long familiarity with the theme, that she was telling him about her pearls, how much they had cost and how many of their brothers and sisters she had at home. The simple pleasure she derived from their possession was not the least endearing of her characteristics, but I had to admit there were times when the obsession could bring a blush to the cheeks of her nearest and dearest; and this was doubtless why I was quicker to take offence than the sneer really justified, when still smiling the all-knowing smile Sir Maddox said:

  ‘A most estimable woman, no doubt, but a teeny bit of a joke in these parts, as you may have gathered. I am sure I don’t know what we should all do without her, but one would hardly blame you for wishing to keep the connection quiet. However, I can assure you that no one who had met you could possibly conceive of there being any blood relationship.’

  ‘Oh, that’s a relief,’ I said haughtily. ‘You mean they would simply take me for the kind of vulgar snob who would accept somebody’s hospitality and then cut them in public? Well, that is a weight off my mind, I must say.’

  ‘Dear me! I have put my foot in it, haven’t I? Then, may I ask: why all the mystery the other morning?’

  ‘Yes, you may, but it was on account of quite a different relative. My husband, in fact. He has rather a phobia about my thumbing lifts and, since his job necessarily brings him into contact with undesirable types, that is quite understandable. I couldn’t see your age, at that distance, and how was I to know what sort of a reputation you might have around here?’

  So much for playing it cool! His insinuations had goaded me to the point where I had intended to be insulting, naturally, but the effect of my words was more electrifying than I had bargained for. White with anger, he said coldly:

  ‘It seems that I was wrong in taking you to be of superior breeding to the comical old aunt. The similarities are quite marked, although she is at least an honest vulgarian; whereas you, you must allow me to tell you, are merely sly and pert.’

  Whereupon he bade me good evening and walked away.

  ‘I saw you having a terrific heart to heart with Maddox,’ Nancy Harper Barrington said, unnerved, no doubt, by the sight of a guest sitting alone instead of decently paired off, and rushing in to fill the vacuum herself. ‘Isn’t he a charmer? You would never believe that a celebrated man like him could be so natural, would you?’

  ‘No, it did surprise me a little,’ I agreed.

  ‘And I am sure you got on famously. Naughty old darling, he has a great eye for the pretty girls.’

  ‘You don’t say?’

  ‘Oh well, it’s not to be wondered at, is it? Those divine looks and fabulous charm! Women absolutely fling themselves at him. He literally has to fight them off.’

  ‘And I am sure he does it most effectively.’

  I believe she had been on the point of adding a further paragraph to the paeon, but something in my tone must have deterred her, and after a slight pause she reverted to an earlier theme:

  ‘Roger is madly keen to have your professional opinion on his films. He’s down in the cellar now, getting it all fixed up.’

  ‘In the cellar?’

  ‘Yes, we’ve made it into a kind of rumpus room; or fun room, as I prefer to call it. We got the idea from some darling friends of ours in the States, and I simply couldn’t wait to get back here and pinch the idea. Adorable people called Jack and Connie Flatmore; do you know them?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh, but, my dear, you should! If you ever go to America, I simply must give you an introduction. They have this fabulous Colonial-style house in Vermont, with simply masses of servants. I always feel so slummy when I come back here. But Roger has fitted out our fun room rather amusingly. He’s got an extra projector, too; so at least one is spared that fiasco of the thing breaking down in the middle.’

  I was sorry to hear this, having banked on the probability that it would break down in the middle, and was casting a gloomy eye at the Louis Seize clock, to assess the chances of getting away before midnight, when Anabel, having changed into dark blue jersey and slacks, sidled up to announce that Daddy was all thet and ready thoo thart.

  (iv)

  The Rumpus or Fun Room turned out to be a series of lavishly equipped apartments, covering an area as big as the ground floor of the house. There was a Hobbies Room full of photographic equipment, skewered butterflies and a model-railway track; leading out of this, a Games Room, with ping pong and bar billiards. The third and largest was the Projection Room, although at first sight it resembled a film set for a ducal library.

  I do not know how far the guiding hand of the expensive young man had planted the finger of taste on it, but it did occur to me that the shelves of pristine volumes which lined the walls might have been bought by the yard, more for the harmony of their bindings than with the idea of pulling one down to read. It was not so, however, for, no sooner had we entered the room than Roger Harper Barrington pressed a switch and the section of shelves at one end of the room split into halves, swivelled round to reveal a white lining, and joined up again in the form of a cinema screen.

  The gasps which greeted this transformation encouraged him to furthe
r magical feats and, one by one, the facades of books were peeled away to reveal the cocktail cabinets, record players and television sets which lurked behind them. I never discovered whether the room contained a single genuine book, but one tattered old tome which looked more promising than the rest had been hollowed out to make room for three decanters.

  There were a dozen or so blue swivel armchairs set out on each side of a central aisle, facing the screen. Each pair was separated by several feet from the two in front, and had its own small table for glasses and ashtrays.

  Aunt Moo plumped herself into the nearest available seat, just in front of the projector, and I took the one beside it. The Robinsons sat together on the same side, but three seats ahead of us Nancy manoeuvred herself and Sir Maddox into the pair which was on a level with them, on the other side; and Robin sat across the aisle from me and Aunt Moo.

  Toby prowled restlessly up and down for a bit, before coming to roost in a chair midway between us and the Robinsons, and I knew that he was suffering from acute claustrophobia, among other afflictions. As soon as we were all assembled, Roger had closed the door leading to the staircase and freedom, and its rows of bookshelves had swung into line with those on the two adjoining walls. Toby found it painful enough to be enclosed in a sealed room; and not even to be able to see where the door was situated must have been the supreme torture.

  Anabel went importantly to a low stool beside a tape recorder just below the screen, a yard or two in front of her mother and her Uncle Mad, leaving only Christabel unaccounted for.

  She had arrived after the rest of us, looking dazed and out of place in these chic surroundings, and stood hesitantly beside Roger, who was busy with his machines and paid no attention to her. She moved away from him and was about to sit down beside Robin when he raised his head, took in a comprehensive view of the room and called sharply: