*
It was on the third day that a note arrived from Nora Blake.
It came early, when they were dressing for breakfast. She heard someone at the door, and when she came into the sitting-room he was standing at the door and re-reading the note.
“What is it?”
“It’s a note from someone called Nora. She’s a friend of mine. And of Curt’s. At least, we know each other,” he said, with a wry expression. “She wants us to come for cocktails, this afternoon.”
“Do you want to go?”
He hesitated, fingering the letter with a shade of his familiar smile back on his face again. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I think I do.” He straightened up. “Don’t look so puzzled. We’ll go, if you feel well enough.”
“Will there be a lot of people there?”
“I don’t know. There usually are. They needn’t worry you. Nora’s friends are interested only in themselves.”
“I’ve never been to a cocktail party before.”
“So what?” he said.
*
It was not far, so they walked. It was a building half-way down the hill, in whose courtyard she had often seen a fountain playing. The entry to Nora’s was very smart. The walls were red and white stripes, and over the door was a checkered canopy with a stuffed bird perched on the edge of it, looking down. The inside of the apartment was like that, too. A Filipino answered the door and put their coats on a silver tree that was used as a coat rack. They went into the living-room. It was large and crowded with people. Christopher led her to a chair by a window. “Wait here,” he said. “Nobody’s going to bite you. I’ll go and find Nora.”
He went away and left her. Everybody ignored her completely, and she was glad that they did. Then he came back and led her through the crowd. Sitting in a chair in front of the fireplace was a cleverly-dressed woman of about sixty. Her hair was cut in bangs over her forehead, and her skin was drawn back painfully from her face, which made her mouth pout. Her legs were crossed, and she had very young-looking legs. Sally felt herself being examined shrewdly. The woman had round malicious eyes which she tried to soften with a smile. She sent Christopher off to get Sally a drink.
“Sit down, dear,” she said. “I’ve been curious about you for so long, and Christopher likes to keep his little secrets hidden.” Her voice was metallic. “I must say, I never thought he would marry, but then I suppose his mother’s death upset him. And he’s an odd man. He needs a woman’s hand. I’ve always thought that.” She looked up sharply. “Are you happy? But then I needn’t ask that. I’m sure you are.” Her voice was somewhat dry. “Have a drink,” she said, as Christopher reappeared. “Take my experience: people are awful until you’ve had a couple of drinks.”
If anything else was clear to Sally, it was that Christopher and Nora hated each other. Yet Christopher said, “I was thinking maybe you might help Sally get the hang of things.”
Nora put down her glass. “I don’t think she needs to be taught anything,” she said. “She’s a dear the way she is.” She reached over and patted Sally’s hand. Christopher shrugged and moved away.
Nora glanced after him. “Do you know Curt?” she asked unexpectedly.
“Yes, I know him.” Sally became aware of the hissing of the fire in the fireplace. It grew louder, until she thought her head would burst with the sound of it.
“He’s a bit of a fool, but he means well,” said Nora. “I got him that job, you know. I understand he’s starting up on his own now.”
Sally said nothing. She felt suddenly ill.
“I hope Christopher won’t try to interfere. He sometimes does, you know.”
Sally felt dizzier and dizzier. Nora got up and took her arm. “Come with me,” she said. “I want to show you the house.” She led her the length of the room and through a door. It was clearly Nora’s bedroom. “Lie down and you’ll feel better,” said Nora. “No one will disturb you here. Would you like some ice?” Sally shook her head. “I’ll tell Christopher you weren’t feeling well. Stay here as long as you like.”
She looked at Sally absently, and Sally began to cry. Her head was whirling madly. “You’ve been ill and you’re overtired,” said Nora. “And if you ever want to talk to someone, well, you must lead a lonely life. Come and see me.” She left the room.
Sally rolled over on her stomach, not quite sure why she was crying, and tried to stop the whirring in her head. For Christopher would not forgive her for having too much to drink.
It wasn’t until next morning at breakfast that he asked her if she had liked Nora.
“I liked her very much.”
“I’d rather you didn’t see too much of her, all the same. You shouldn’t go out too much. Dr. Hanley said you’d had some kind of nervous shock.”
“Did you tell him what kind?”
Christopher winced. “You’re free to come and go as you like,” he said. “You know that. But I don’t think that in your condition it would be a good idea.”
“You don’t give a damn about my condition.”
They were in the public dining-room, and he told her to keep her voice down. “Go if you wish,” he said, “but take a cab.”
“You know it’s safe for me to go out, since I don’t know anybody in town, don’t you?”
“You’re being hysterical.”
“I’m not being hysterical.” Her mind wavered round to something else. “What have you got against Nora?”
Christopher put down his cup and looked at her sharply. “Nora hates my guts and I hate hers. It’s none of your affair. It’s a business matter.”
“But if you hate her, and you think she’s dangerous, why did you take me there?”
He had finished his breakfast and crumpled up his napkin. “She dared me on. I thought I’d call her bluff, that’s all. If you want to go out, go.”
“I think I shall,” she said unsteadily.
He was angry. “Very well. I suppose you’ll be back for dinner.”
“I’ll be back when I feel like it.”
After he had gone, she realized that she was alone in the expanses of the hotel coffee shop, and that everyone could see that she had had a quarrel with her husband and that she was ill. She went up to their suite. Christopher was not there. She was determined to go out, and afraid that in some way he might prevent her doing so. Instead of taking the elevator, she went down the stairs and out through the lobby. From the hotel she took a cable car down town. It was a bright day, and the light hurt her eyes. She went window shopping, and at last went into a store. She did not know what she wanted, and the clerk confused her. It was then that she saw Nora. Nora, dressed in black, was standing at a glove counter, arguing with a tired-looking salesgirl.
“Why, Sally,” she said, coming forward. “Come home and have tea. The car’s outside.” Nora paused. “You look tired. Tea would do you good.”
“I’m afraid I can’t.”
“Did that crazy husband of yours warn you not to? Don’t be silly. I don’t bite.” Nora reached out and squeezed her hand. “Now just wait a minute while I try to get some sense out of this cretin who’s waiting on me, and I’ll be with you.” She went back and spoke rapidly to the salesgirl, and then came across to Sally. “You must excuse me,” she said. “I suppose I was rude to her. But I don’t see why when you pay thirty dollars for a pair of gloves they have to come unstitched as soon as you wear them. Not that it’s her fault, poor dear. She probably doesn’t make that much in a week. Which, of course, only makes it that much the more shocking.”
Sally found it unexpectedly easy to talk to Nora, if only because Nora did all the talking. It had been so long since she had been able to talk to anyone without Christopher there to watch her, that she allowed herself to be soothed by the ride in the car.
When they got to Nora’s the apartment was empty and the fire was lit. Nora went off to talk to the Filipino, and Sally huddled by the fire, whose warmth was grateful to her. When Nora came back Sally smiled a
t her.
“You must think I behaved badly the other night.”
“We all get upset at times. It’s nothing to worry about.”
The boy came in carrying a tray and set it down on a table by the fire. He cleared away the table, and one of the things he moved was a photograph of Curt. Sally was surprised. She did not remember it there the night before. But then, she had not noticed much of anything the night before.
“This place must seem poky after what I’ve heard of Christopher’s hideaway,” said Nora. “How do you manage for servants?”
“I don’t know. Christopher arranges everything.”
“1 suppose he would, wouldn’t he?” Nora looked at her mildly. “They aren’t much bother, though I have trouble with this boy. I like Filipinos. They hate you, but they do their work.”
Sally was looking at Curt’s portrait, removed to a side table.
“Curt is a great favourite of mine,” said Nora. “I think Christopher treated him badly.”
Sally said nothing.
“You’re very young,” said Nora. “But I don’t think you’re particularly stupid. How did you come to marry him, or is that a rude question?”
“I’m afraid he took me by surprise,” said Sally, wondering what to say and wanting very much to talk.
“It’s the way he takes a good many people. But I hope you’ll use your head and make a go of it. Christopher is very good at dazzling people. Curt made a bad mistake, I think, working for him. I’m glad the boy had the guts to get out from under while he still could.” She poured tea and passed Sally a cup. “You’re not happy, are you? I hope you don’t mind my saying so.” She peered out from under her bangs, her tight face looking almost anxious.
Sally thought it was better not to answer that, either. The clock on the mantelpiece struck the hour.
“Do you like my clock?” asked Nora. “I paid a scandalous amount for it.”
“Yes. But I didn’t realize it was so late,” said Sally. She felt nervous, and knew she must show it, for Nora looked at her closely.
“He did tell you not to see me, didn’t he?” she asked.
Sally nodded.
“Don’t look so scared. How old are you?”
“Twenty-three.”
“At your age I’d buried my first husband and was looking for a second. The world doesn’t end at twenty-three.” Nora hesitated. “Never mind. You look like a sensible girl, and if you ever do need someone, I’m always here.” Leaning over, she kissed Sally on the forehead. “I like you,” she said. “Now run along. I have to rest before dinner.”
*
She realized that she liked Nora, and it had been a relief to talk to another woman. There were so many things she could never tell a man, that perhaps she could not tell Nora either, but the hope was there.
When she got back to the suite she found Christopher standing in the middle of the sitting-room.
“Where have you been?” he demanded, before she even got her hat off.
“I’ve been shopping.”
“That’s a lie.”
“It is not. If you must know,” she said slowly, looking at herself in a mirror as she took her hat off, “I bumped into Nora. I had tea with her.”
He came over to her, and knowing he was going to touch her, she flinched. But he changed his mind. “What’s the use,” he said. “But if you have any respect for my judgment at all, I wish you wouldn’t see her. What can you know of these people? You’ve lived in the mountains all your life.”
“I like her.”
“Of course you do. It makes no difference to you that she hates me. That she would do anything to ruin me.”
“Why does she want to ruin you?”
“That’s my own affair.”
She clenched her teeth, feeling her nerves snap. “Oh, stop it,” she screamed. “I can’t bear any more. I can’t stand any more.” He looked at her, his eyes concealed, and went into his own room, slamming his door behind him.
*
She went to bed early that night, and unexpectedly woke up in the middle of the night. She slipped from the edge of the bed and went to the window.
It was foggy outside, and the street lamps glowed through the fog with a peculiarly warmthless yellow radiance. The streets were wet and deserted. She went back to bed and tried to sleep. A helpless torpor seemed to weigh down her whole body. She heard a noise, soft, subdued, and sat up in bed. She saw the handle turn and the door open.
He was naked, and in the dim light from the window she could see that his body was pouring with sweat. She drew the covers around her, frightened.
“I won’t bother you,” he said. His voice was twisted up. “But I’ve got to see you.”
She reached over towards the night table.
“Don’t turn on the light.”
She could not bear to face him in the darkness and switched it on anyway. She scarcely recognized him. He was bent over double, and his body, the tan faded, was wet with perspiration. Even his hair was matted with sweat, and he seemed to walk unsteadily. “If you’ve got anything to say, you can say it in the light,” she said.
He stumbled across the room and sank into a chair. His body was trembling and his face contorted. She felt as though she was looking at someone she had always been afraid to see.
“Don’t look at me, then,” he begged.
She sat up in bed, drawing the covers around her. He seemed to dissolve in front of her, and lay helpless in the chair, exhausted, the sweat standing out on his forehead in glittering yellow beads. “You’ve got to help me,” he said. “I’ve never asked anyone to help me before.”
“Do you want a doctor?”
“I’m not sick!”
“You certainly look it.” She was frightened, and wondered if she could get to the door, or if he would stop her. A sort of helplessness swept over her.
“Don’t be afraid of me,” he pleaded. She started to get out of bed, alarmed now.
“Don’t leave me,” he shouted.
“I’m not leaving you.”
“Yes, you are.” He flung himself from the chair, plunging towards the bed. He crouched above her, panting, and with his left arm he swept the lamp down to the floor and shattered it. “I told you not to turn on the light,” he said. “I’ve got to stay here.”
She wriggled, trying to get free, but she could not. She had not realized, even during those nights at the house, how massive he was, and the smell of him almost suffocated her. It was not the smell of a healthy man. She was horribly afraid of what he would do to her. Summoning what strength she had, she drew up her feet and kicked him so hard that he fell away from her. He had fallen across her feet, and lay there thrashing with pain.
She leaped out of bed, banging across the room for the light. She reached frantically for the switch and pulled it. The room was flooded with light. He was lying on the bed, twisted up over himself, and he was unconscious. He breathed as though he were struggling for air. Slipping out of her nightdress, she threw on the first clothes she could find, and fled to the hall. She did not wait for the elevator, but raced down the stairs and across the midnight lobby.
She walked round and round the square in front of the hotel, knowing that she must find somebody. The square on top of Nob Hill was the heart of the aristocratic city, as Union Square was the heart of the city of the middle class. On top of Nob Hill even the climate was different. It was cooler, quieter, and more remote. And like the aristocracy in our day, it always seemed to be waiting for something new to happen in the past. In front of her was the dark brown Flood Mansion, now a club. Beyond that rose the tower of the unfinished cathedral. And in private houses and hotels the rich of the city lay sleeping, as though no prince would ever come to wake them up. She did not think of them. She thought of the pitiably small handful of people in her own past. She even thought of Curt, but she did not know where Curt was. Then, almost automatically, she turned down the street and into the court of Nora’s apartment house.
/>
In the dim light the fountain was still playing. She felt a fool. Nora would very properly turn her out. Perhaps Christopher was right about her, after all. But she had to go somewhere, so she went up in the lift and rang the bell. At last the door was opened a crack by the Filipino. “I’ve got to see Mrs. Blake.”
“She’s in bed.”
“I know that. But I’ve got to see her, do you understand? Tell her it’s Sally Carson.” The boy looked at her stupidly. “Sally Barocco,” she said. She heard a disturbance behind the door, and Nora’s voice calling out to the servant. And then Nora stood there sleepy and cross and with a robe flung around her shoulders. She looked at Sally and her expression changed.
“What on earth is it?” she asked, and put her arm around her.
“I had to get away. I had to go somewhere.”
“Of course, dear,” said Nora, and cocked her head at the Filipino. He went away, and Nora took Sally to her bedroom. The boy came back with a bottle of brandy, and getting her to lie on the bed, Nora gave her a sip of cognac. “Don’t tell me about it now,” she said. “Just rest.”
“I want to talk.”
Nora considered. “Very well.”
Somehow Sally got her story out. Nora heard her through and then got up and paced nervously about the room. The sound of her silk robe slithered after her. Finally she made up her mind.
“You’ll stay here, of course. For a few days, anyway,” she said. “You certainly can’t go back to that madman in your present condition. And he’ll scarcely come after you here, if that’s worrying you.”
Sally tried to smile.
Nora smiled back. “I’m afraid I’m not used to this sort of thing. If you’re all right now, I’ll go to bed. Stay in bed in the morning, and I’ll see you at lunch.” Nora hesitated at the door. “Everything will be all right,” she said. “But you must rest.” She looked at Sally thoughtfully and went away, closing the door softly.
The Self-Enchanted Page 13