Forty is Beginning (Timeless Classics Collection)

by Ursula Bloom

  ‘The English lady, monsieur,’ said he.

  Miss Marvin had the good sense to wait in the hall out of hearing distance, which gave Colonel Hewlitt the opportunity to come to with a bounce. ‘What d’you say?’ he asked, and then ‘Oh God!’ for he had a dim idea that he was snoring, and that was something which he would prefer her not to hear.

  He came out rather gruffly to Miss Marvin in the vestibule. She wondered if he had a headache too, and he looked a little like it.

  She said, ‘The lunch at the Bella Vista has been abominable, and I’m starving.’

  ‘You ought to move over here.’

  ‘How can I? She’ll charge me for the whole fortnight. She is one of the avaricious type, and when a woman is born avaricious it is all the worse if she is born French.’

  ‘How true! But you’ve got the money to pay. I’ll go over if you like and have this out with Madame. She’s a proper old cheeseparer, but I can settle it for you.’

  ‘I do wish you would. I’ve always been rather frightened of rows. It’s silly of me, because everybody has them at some time or another, but … well, I do hate them.’

  ‘Poor little dear! She looks that kind,’ he thought. ‘The pukka sahib isn’t frightened,’ said he, adopting a ferocity that she wouldn’t have believed he had. ‘You leave this to me. You have another déjeuner in my salle. It’s still on, for some of the old dears haven’t finished yet. You wait for me there.’

  Miss Marvin went in to the salle, which was charming. The tables were almost cubicled by standard wire baskets painted glossy white and profuse with pot flowers. The cinerarias and cyclamens were delightful. The pale pink table cloths revealed the spotless silver and the sparkle of crystal. A garçon brought a delicious meal, and Miss Marvin sat back in Heaven.

  The Colonel seemed to be absent for a long while, but she did not care. As she sat there she overheard two English ladies who were the other side of a wire basket full of petunias and stocks, and presumed they were the ‘old dears’ to whom he had referred.

  ‘It’s very comfortable here,’ said one of them, ‘and such a pity the poor fellow can’t make it pay, because he is so nice. It needs more capital put into it, I imagine, because of course the competition is very keen.’

  ‘Of course, and I should have thought this could be such a very good proposition. I am sure it is quite the most comfortable hotel in Cap Rabat for people like ourselves. They are so kind to the elderly, and Colonel Hewlitt is such a very reliable man to have in charge.’

  ‘Undoubtedly,’ said the first one, ‘and this place divides the sheep from the goats so admirably. It isn’t too full of the lively, nor too much in its dotage. It’s nice for us to sit here, and leave the young to go skipping about the beach without any clothes on and not bother us.’

  ‘All I can say is that I do hope it doesn’t shut up on us.’

  ‘It will if something doesn’t happen. I hear that Colonel Hewlitt is looking around for someone to put some extra money into it, and if he finds someone, then of course that would save it.’

  ‘Yes.’ There was a pause, then: ‘Isn’t that Henry waving over there? If he wants me to go out in this sun and play golf with him, I shall die, because it is such a fatiguing game. Oh, how I wish that golf had never been invented!’

  Now they rose, two middle-aged ladies who were growing sturdy about the waistline and hips, well-upholstered in silk jersey, over-toqued on top, but nice women, Miss Marvin felt sure.

  As she sat there an idea came to Miss Marvin and she wondered why she had never thought of it before.

  At this moment it seemed that the school at Brestonbury was slowly waving her farewell. A long crocodile of the little dears (who could be so trying) waved and disappeared over the horizon of Miss Marvin’s life. She heard the final echo of that atrocious School Song that Miss Halifax had brought with her:

  Do your best ‒ none can do more;

  Use your youth, and make a store;

  Serve your school as ne’er before;

  God bless St. Helena’s.

  She would never see the school again, she knew it now!

  Her new horizon was a blue sea, its beach fringed with palm trees. She thought of Miss Halifax, whom she had always disliked, and knew that it would be very amusing to deal Miss Halifax one good slosh between the eyes.

  Unfortunately she had always got it.

  Miss Marvin hoped sincerely that Miss Halifax was having a horrible time with the Prebendary at Ripon, and on that score she need not have worried, for Miss Halifax was in a mess. She was still intensely angry that she had not been able to prevent Miss Marvin from going on her atrocious and most extravagant holiday to Cap Rabat. She had disapproved strongly, and every line of her appearance revealed how much when she had said goodbye. Miss Marvin was thinking that it would be an immense joke to wire to Miss Halifax, care of the Prebendary cousin at Ripon, and to say

  ‘I shall not be returning. Am buying a hotel here.

  Alice Marvin. Les Papillons. Cap Rabat.’

  That would put the fat in the fire!

  The idea of buying the hotel became arresting. Whereas at first it had been merely a casual conversation to which she had listened in because she had no option, it now became a strong driving force.

  She would write in a leisurely manner to the Haineses, because they really had been very nice to her, and she would inform them that they could keep the miserable little luggage that she had left behind her. Perhaps her winter undies might be helpful for the poor of the Salvation Army, and her best dress which she wouldn’t be wanting now. Her goloshes and mac. might be useful for some down-and-outer. It was wonderful to think that she would no longer require mac. and goloshes and serviceable clothes, the need for which was so intensified by the district of Manchester. She felt eagerly anticipatory. She would live in a land of romantic sunshine; she would be able to afford to have her hair set once a week and her nails done so that they were always pearl-pink; she would wear delightful clothes which would take years off her age. When short of money she could always go along to the casino with her ‘beginners’ luck’ and win some more. For that delightful amulet ‒ beginners’ luck ‒ was the thing that stood behind all this.

  The idea was so tantalising. For the first time in her life she would lay down the law to Miss Halifax, and not let Miss Halifax lay it down to her.

  ‘I think I shall have to do it,’ she promised herself.

  The Colonel was coming in at the door.

  A couple of suitcases which Miss Marvin recognised were being carried after him by an out-porter belonging to Les Papillons. The Colonel had obviously finished his business with Madame at the Bella Vista, and there was triumph in his eyes.

  ‘I had always longed to tell the old trout what I thought of her,’ he said, ‘and now I have done it. There is nothing more to be paid. I insisted that the maid packed your things while I waited, even though Madame was bursting to get rid of me and send them after me. Now you’re settled in here.’

  ‘I’m so grateful to you.’

  ‘Not at all. I liked doing it.’

  She looked longingly at him for a moment. Then she said, ‘Look here, there is something I want to do. I should very much like to buy this hotel. Would it be very expensive, or possible?’ and all the time her heart was back at its old refrain ‒ ‘This isn’t me, truly it isn’t me at all, is it?’

  Five

  BEGINNING AGAIN

  Probably, in spite of all these delightful castles in Spain, Miss Marvin had never thought that Colonel Hewlitt would really fall in with the idea.

  The Colonel looked at her for a moment and said nothing. His mouth had gone very dry and he moistened it with his tongue, then he said, ‘Come into my study and let’s have a talk.’

  They went into his study, which was very ‘pukka sahib’. It left no doubt as to the outposts of Empire where he had served in his Army career. Over the mantelpiece there was an imposing picture of the Taj Mahal. There were sev
eral polo sticks tucked away in one corner, and a lot of Benares work, photographs of the Ganges, and piles of joss sticks. The air was manly in the extreme, exuding cigar smoke and the scent of good wine, or should it be the bouquet of good wine? Already Miss Marvin was getting a trifle proficient, and ‘learning the language’ in other ways besides French.

  She said, ‘I really do want to buy it, if I have enough money. Of course you would stay on as manager, because I know nothing about such things and should want someone to run it for me, but I should want to live here.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said, ‘that could easily be arranged.’

  Just at first he had had an awful doubt that she was pulling his leg, but seeing her honest face he was now convinced that he really had heard aright. If she came into this business with that money of hers, it would completely save his bacon. The trouble was that he needed capital, and this was just what she could bring into the place. He had liked her from the first moment he had set eyes on her in the pavement cafe. Now he felt that he loved her.

  He said, ‘I can’t tell you how delighted I’d be and what it would mean to me, but of course there is lots to be fixed up.’

  She nodded eagerly. ‘Yes, of course.’

  They talked together for a little while, and it seemed that the project would work quite easily. He would get a legal firm into it to draw up the deeds for her to sign. She needn’t worry, she had plenty of money, and if she liked this part of the world as much as she did, why not stay out here?

  ‘I do like it,’ she said.

  ‘I like you,’ he told her rather bluntly. She blushed at the remark, she was that young! ‘She really is a dear little thing,’ he thought.

  When they had done, a pert maid escorted her to her suite where her luggage had preceded her. On the table lay the receipted bill from Madame.

  The suite de luxe was very agreeable. It was entered by a small hall, painted in Adams green, both restful and soothing to the eye; this led into a sitting-room with a shady balcony overlooking the sea, and behind this lay her bedroom decorated in very soft pink. It did not exhibit any underclothed plaster cupids, and had no suggestive pieces in the cornice, but was a large room, the sort one often sees on the film screen but never expects to find in real life.

  On the table was a sheaf of notes from Madame. A little later Miss Marvin looked at them and was surprised at the taxes. There were more taxes than bills, it seemed ‒ taxe de service, taxe de sejour, a tax for drinking water (as though God Himself did not supply it! ‒ ‘This is iniquitous,’ she told herself), a special tax for one’s arrival in a foreign country, all sorts of things that Mr. Swinnerton had forgotten to tell her that rainy day in Manchester when this trip had first been broached. Mr. Swinnerton had painted France in a very different way, giving it a great many joys that it really did not seem to possess when it came to staying in the country. She would have been in a sorry mess had she not won that money at the casino.

  Still, with her little fortune, what did anything matter? Now she understood how it was that rich people never complained, and made it so difficult for the poor; extra expenses did not worry them, and they let impositions pass rather than kick up a row. They never made expenditure easier for poor people because they just sat down under any extra burden that was offered to them.

  She was rich.

  She could not believe that this had happened to her. ‘It is wonderful while it lasts,’ she told herself, ‘and if I wake up soon, then I wake up, but for the time being I’ll enjoy every moment of it.’

  The maid came to tell her that some gentlemen wished to see her; she knew no gentlemen, she said, which was true. However, outside in the passage beyond the hall several gentlemen were collected; they were, she considered, rather scruffy-looking gentlemen and some of them carried flashlight cameras. The gentlemen did not wait for the maid to announce them, but as the door was ajar they surged into the luxury suite of Les Papillons hotel; they beamed broadly.

  They were the Press.

  The leading gentleman in a light camel-coloured suit of a kind that Miss Marvin had never seen before, advanced coyly. He spoke American-English through the nose.

  ‘Have you a system, Miss Marvin?’ he asked.

  ‘A system?’ she asked dazedly.

  ‘We understand that you won a fortune in the pools in London, and came out here on the proceeds, only to win another fortune here.’

  ‘I didn’t win a fortune in the pools, I won a hundred pounds,’ she told him truthfully, ‘and I took this trip on the proceeds of it. I don’t know what a system is.’

  ‘We wondered if you got an inspiration, or worked on any special arrangement. Have you a lucky number or anything?’

  He had a notebook and a pencil at the ready, and when she looked closer she found that all of them had this. They waited eagerly for her words of wisdom. Some crouched on their haunches like the pit workers in North Country towns. The cameramen were fixing up their awful paraphernalia.

  ‘Oh no,’ said Miss Marvin, now a little frightened.

  In spite of all her brave castles in Spain, she privately had an idea that in the end all this would work out unluckily and prove itself to be a dream which had been great fun while it lasted. Then she would have to return home and find a new job, which might not be too easy. She eyed the Press with distaste. She felt shy; they didn’t. Embarrassment was not their trump card; it would take more than Miss Marvin to put them off.

  ‘Tell us a little about yourself,’ they suggested. ‘Tell us the story.’

  Miss Marvin was a trusting woman. She believed in mankind and relied on them. She had never in her life thought that anybody did not say what they meant, and so with a little prompting she told them the truth. She had taken up teaching because it was the only thing that she could do, and now she lived in Brestonbury where she taught history at St. Helena’s. She had won on the pools entirely by accident, for she had had no idea what she was doing, and had come out here also by accident. It had been a wet day in Manchester; there was nothing unusual about that, of course, but that was the way it had been. Then on her first evening here, when she could get no proper tea at the Bella Vista, she had met Colonel Hewlitt and he had taken her along to the casino. So easy, she said.

  ‘For you,’ said the amiable young men, who were encouraging her to say more, ‘but not so easy for others.’

  ‘It just happened,’ said Miss Marvin. ‘I thought of a number, I doubled it, added seven to it and took away ten, and there you are!’

  She was enjoying herself. She had meant this as a joke, naturally, but she wasn’t very good at jokes, and the young men took it in deadly earnest, scrawling it all down in their notebooks and turning over the pages with the most diverting briskness. Never had she seen people write so quickly. How did they do it?

  ‘Ah, there it is in a nutshell!’ they said.

  Colonel Hewlitt suddenly appeared, for he had got the buzz that the Press were here. He stepped into the room and told them what a gracious lady this was, and how happy he was that he had been the one who had introduced her to the casino. The young men with the flashlight apparatus now took photographs of Colonel Hewlitt with Miss Marvin. They took pictures with the fountain in the garden beyond; and there was another of them roaring with laughter in triumph. They took photos with baskets of flowers behind them, and baskets of fruit before them.

  Never had Miss Marvin been so sick of photographs. Until this moment she had had hers taken only three times not counting those unforgivable school groups which one never dares acknowledge.

  Eventually, when they had been persuaded to return to their offices, Miss Marvin sank back utterly exhausted.

  What she was not to know was what would happen in Brestonbury. That was something that a simple creature like herself could not possibly have foreseen.

  The local paper got it.

  The French paper did not keep its jolly bits of news to itself; it was a big-hearted paper and generous in its dealings, and it
spread the good news abroad. The Manchester paper, receiving it with gusto, gave it a whole column, headed LOCAL LADY WINS A FORTUNE. At first nobody connected it with Miss Marvin, until they read more closely; then they could not believe it. Nor could they imagine that the two photographs of the good-looking young woman with the gentleman friend who had introduced her to the casino was the same person who had left Brestonbury as a rather down-at-heel schoolteacher.

  It can’t be true, they said to one another, and of course the next query was: ‘Who on earth is the gentleman friend?’

  ‘Now,’ said Mrs. Bunce, ‘you’ll see I was right about her. I always thought that there was something very funny going on, and if you ask me all this business was a put-up job. I’ll never believe anything else, so don’t you ask me.’

  The Haineses thought that Miss Marvin deserved a lucky break, and hoped that when she came back she would lend a hand with the very low funds of the social side of Salvationism. ‘Our sister has done well, and deserves it,’ said Mr. Haines, for they were kind people, like their faith, and liked to hear good news in a world too full of its bad brother.

  But in Ripon Miss Halifax had other ideas.

  She was having breakfast with the Prebendary at the time. It was a poor breakfast, for undoubtedly stinginess ran in the family. She was wondering how she would be able to last out till lunch, when she opened the paper and saw the headline glaring at her.

  At first she didn’t believe it. If Miss Marvin had done all this, then she was no longer the history mistress at St. Helena’s. Man or no man, she would have to get out. Colonel Maxwell Hewlitt, she read and glowed with fury. ‘Good heavens, what impertinence!’ said Miss Halifax.

  You could not have your mistresses going about foreign countries and behaving this way and making fortunes from games of chance, and it was all much too bad.