City of Spades

by Colin MacInnes

  A hand took mine. ‘It’s all right, hon’,’ the voice said. ‘I’m Louisiana.’

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘You’ll see. Sit down here. Cornwallis never meant to come – this party’s not up to her degree of expectation.’

  ‘How does she know it’s not?’

  ‘I called her up at her hotel to say so. I’m her spy, you see, in the company. I keep her informed of what’s going on.’

  An anglepoise lamp, operated by the dim, green cheeks of Mr Vial, shone on the naked torso of the dancer Jupiter, who stood immobile. Hercule La Bataille and Hippolyte Dieudonné entered, carrying what looked to be a cat in a waste-paper basket. The two Haitians knelt on either side of the basket (which they had upended, cat inside), and, with Jupiter towering motionless above, began chanting. It was wonderful to look at for a while, but it went on, and on, and on, and on, and on. The white guests, and even the West Indians, became restive. A Caribbean voice said, ‘When you going to slay this pussy, now, man? We want some whisky down our throats.’ Unmoved, the Haitians chanted. ‘It usually lasts an hour,’ Louisiana whispered, ‘before they kill the animal.’ Really, I thought! Even for the sake of higher mysteries, I can’t allow that; and was about to do something inelegant and British, when I was anticipated by Theodora, who strode briskly from the floor, seized cat and basket from between the Haitians, and stumbled off into the gloom.

  The three performers looked nonplussed and shocked. The lights came on, and our host Mr Vial, his face really ‘distorted with fury’, as they say, cried out, ‘What does that bitch think she’s doing?’

  ‘She ain’t no bitch, she’s my lady,’ said Johnny Fortune. ‘Is me who bring her here.’

  ‘You little bastard,’ said Mr Vial.

  Johnny reached up and pulled the knot of Mr Vial’s blue bow tie undone. ‘You sure you not say, “little black bastard”?’ he asked the lawyer mildly.

  Mr Vial bulldozed his face into a smile. ‘Just little bastard,’ he said gently.

  ‘Oh, well, I’m legitimate, so there must be some mistake,’ said Johnny. ‘I see you again some day soon, my mister.’ He followed Theodora out of the room.

  There was a pause in the proceedings, and a certain amount of hard looks and shuffling. ‘I guess everyone,’ said Larry the GI, ‘is behaving most peculiar. Why don’t we put on some discs and dance?’

  I found myself sitting next to the star performer Huntley, who had removed the lavatory paper he had pranced in, and attired himself, instead, in a pair of Austrian lederhosen he had found in his host’s bedroom. ‘These niggers,’ he said. ‘It’s always the same when you have them at a party.’

  ‘But, excuse me, you …’

  ‘Oh, I work in a coloured company, sure, and half of me belongs to them, I guess, but they’re just so dreadful! So hopeless, so dreadful! There’s always this confusion whenever they’re around. Man, they can’t even work – and I should know, I’m their ballet master. “Work like niggers” – whoever thought up that one?’ He drank a glass of neat whisky and arose. ‘I just can’t bear them,’ he said. ‘I’m going back to sleep at my hotel. I’ve bought me a marmoset here in this city, and it’s better company to me than they are.’

  The party, it seemed to me, was deteriorating. I rose to go also, but was overtaken by Norbert Salt and his friend Moscow Gentry.

  ‘Moscow and I,’ said Norbert, ‘have been thinking. And what we think is, it would be cheaper for us if instead of spending money at our hotel, we moved in with you. Now, you’ve got an apartment, haven’t you?’

  ‘That is, if it’s not too far out from the city centre,’ said Moscow Gentry.

  I handed them the keys. ‘If I ring the bell,’ I said, ‘I hope you’ll be kind enough to let me in.’

  ‘Oh, sure.’

  ‘And thanks.’

  In the hall there was a white boy in a barman’s jacket, reading an evening paper and sipping a glass of wine. He looked up.

  ‘I think I’ve seen you earlier,’ he said.

  ‘Yes? I don’t remember.’

  ‘My name’s Alfy Bongo.’

  ‘I don’t remember you.’

  ‘I work here for Mr Vial on special evenings,’ said this person, taking me with two fingers by the arm. ‘He’s a very much nicer man than you might think.’

  ‘And so, I’m sure, are you,’ I said to Alfy Bongo, as I opened the mortice lock of Mr Vial’s front door.

  8

  Theodora languishes, not quite in vain

  This Miss Theodora! Outside the Vial man’s flat, I found her with the cat, two legs in each hand, searching the late darkness for a taxi. ‘Let me take it for you, please,’ I said to her. ‘You don’t want it to scratch you on your nylon blouses.’

  ‘They’re not nylon,’ she said to me, and I saw she was in tears.

  I took the animal.

  ‘We walk a bit together, you and me,’ I said, ‘and get the fresh air in our weary choke-up lungs.’

  ‘You’ll catch cold without a coat on.’

  ‘Me? I’m hearty! Walking warms up the circulation.’

  After a silent while, she said, ‘I suppose you think I oughtn’t to have done that, Johnny.’

  ‘Is for you to judge. Each man is jury of his own actions – even women.’

  ‘I didn’t mind all that much about the cat, but I couldn’t bear them all enjoying themselves so much.’

  This cat was wriggling, so I shoved it inside my shirt and buttoned it. ‘Ju-ju is ju-ju,’ I replied. ‘Surely, is best to stay away from watching it, or, if you come, not interfere.’

  ‘But you took me there to see it.’

  A remark how like a woman!

  ‘African ju-ju, or Haitian voodoo,’ I explained to her, ‘is not to be despised like you do through your ignorance. Medical science is, of course, a European discovery, as we know when we buy our spectacles, or have the appendix out. But living and dying is also very much a mystery of the mind that ju-ju understands.’

  With my conversation, and the night air, she was recovering her usual sharp brain. ‘According to what I read,’ she said, ‘the latest European opinion bears you out.’

  A taxi sailed by, cruising cautious, slow, and eager for custom like a prostitute would do. I hailed it, and opened up the door. ‘Here is your quadruped,’ I said. ‘What will you call it?’

  ‘You choose a name.’

  I took the cat beneath the taxi headlamps to examine it for sex. ‘Tungi,’ I said, ‘is a nice name for a boy.’ I handed it back, but she grabbed my arm as well as Tungi when I did so. ‘Come home with me, please,’ she asked, ‘just for a while.’

  I know what ‘for a while’ means, once a chick’s got you inside her front door … and I wasn’t eager for any close association with this not so young, young lady. All the same, she’d given me the twenty pounds, and perhaps she might be helpful to me on some later occasion. I climbed in and took the cat again, to make sure I had a good excuse not to hold whatever else that might be offered.

  ‘And how is Muriel?’ she said, in that voice women use to hide their disapproval.

  ‘Muriel is well. Her health is good.’

  ‘Are you fond of her, Johnny?’

  ‘“Fond of” is not some words I use. Either is “love” or “not love” in my language.’

  ‘So you love Muriel, then.’

  ‘Well, yes, I do. She makes me quite mad with all her practical remarks and weepings, but I have some love for Muriel, that’s certain.’

  ‘So you’ll get married soon?’

  ‘Who said I would? Did I say so?’ The cat was wriggling once more – I slapped it. ‘Any conversation about loving a woman,’ I exclaimed, ‘ends up always with some talk by her of marriage.’

  ‘Excuse me, Johnny.’

  ‘Oh, I excuse you, naturally.’

  This argument gave me excellent reasons for saying my farewell to her once delivered safely at her address; but when the cab stopped, she asked me to dig so
me earth up from the little garden there outside the rails. ‘For the cat,’ she said. ‘He’ll need a tray upstairs. Just bring it up, will you, when you’ve done? I’ll leave the door open.’

  This woman beats my time! I gathered up two handfuls, kicked the door closed behind me, and climbed three steps up at a jump, leaving trailings and spots of dirty earth upon the landings. Inside her room, the lights were already on, the radio in operation, and she was pouring out some drink in quite a hurry.

  ‘Where is this tray?’ I cried.

  ‘What tray?’

  ‘For Tungi your dear cat, Miss Theodora. Or shall I lay this soil upon this sofa?’

  ‘Oh, don’t be so angry with me, Johnny. I know men don’t like being asked to do a menial task.’

  Didn’t that make it worse? She handed me some drink. I gulped it, then said, ‘Goodbye, Miss Theodora, Montgomery would not approve if I should stay.’

  ‘Him? He’s nothing to me! He’ll be out drinking somewhere, anyway.’

  ‘Nothing to you, you say. Am I then something?’

  This chilly lady, all skin and eagerness and spectacles, now flung herself upon me like some jaguar, and covered me in tears and kisses. I could not speak even until I’d wrestled her away. ‘It’s not always Spades, then,’ I shouted out, ‘who try to seduce white ladies, like they say.’

  At this remark of mine, which I agree was not a gentleman’s, like it wasn’t meant to be, she stood up, smoothed all her body down, and said, ‘Accept my apologies. I’m making myself just a little cheap.’

  ‘If you say so, lady – but I didn’t.’

  ‘Don’t call me “lady”!’

  She was so pale and furious. ‘All right, all right, Miss Theodora.’

  ‘Or “Miss” anything.’

  ‘Okay, Theodora. Just play cool.’

  She picked up her spectacles from the floor, where they had fallen, and propped her lean body against the fireplace.

  ‘All right,’ she said. ‘You know I’m in love with you, and you’re not with me, and I’m not fool enough not to know that makes me just a nuisance. All that I ask you, though, is … that if I promise there will be no more scenes like this one, you’ll stay a friend of mine.’

  ‘Of course. I’m everybody’s friend.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be so cruel! After all, I’ve helped you once already, and it’s possible – in fact, it’s very possible – I may have to do so once again.’

  I got up.

  ‘You gave me loot, yes,’ I said. ‘You want it back? Well, I’ll have to owe it, because I need it.’ And I went towards the door.

  ‘Oh, come back,’ she said. ‘Let’s stop quarrelling, and have a drink.’

  This seemed quite reasonable to me. We clicked both our glasses, and both sat politely down.

  ‘Even if you don’t marry Muriel …’ she began.

  ‘Must we still speak of that?’

  ‘Yes, because a practical matter’s involved. Even if you don’t marry her, she may have children.’

  ‘One child she certainly will have.’

  ‘Already?’

  ‘So she has said to me.’

  She frowned like some prime minister. ‘When you people get independence,’ she said sharp, ‘we’d better change our immigration laws. Otherwise we’ll soon have a half-caste population.’

  ‘Like in the West Indian Islands, or even in parts of Africa.’

  ‘People here don’t understand what’s happening.’

  ‘Then when they do, what splendid opportunities they will have! Always you preach in England against colour bars in other countries! Now you can practise what you preach at home.’

  ‘They just don’t realise that you’re here to stay. They think you’re all here just temporarily.’

  ‘Then they must learn.’

  ‘I suppose we must.’

  She reached for a notepad and made some note on it. ‘For your radio programme?’ I enquired.

  She nodded. ‘Why won’t you marry Muriel?’ she said.

  ‘For many reasons. Is a bad family, is one.’

  ‘You mean her sister Dorothy?’

  ‘For example, her: I do not wish a sister-in-law who is a prostitute.’

  ‘How did she become one in the first place?’

  ‘How should I know? Ask Mr Whispers. These boys meet some foolish chick at a dance. They take her home and give her the good time. Then suddenly – the smiles all disappear, also the money. The chick is afraid to go home to her mother. And so she accepts to step out on the streets and be agreeable …’

  ‘And what do they earn?’

  ‘The girls? Now, Theodora! Are these informations also for your broadcast programmes?’

  ‘No, I’m just curious. Don’t tell me if you don’t want to.’

  ‘A hundred pounds a week or more, if she is sharp … If less than twenty a day is brought, the man will beat her.’

  ‘What man?’

  ‘The ponce. Her man.’

  ‘Does he take everything?’

  ‘If she keeps even one shilling from him, he will beat her.’

  ‘But in return, he protects her?’

  ‘No – not at all. She does not do her business in the house where they both live … What happens outside is not his concern at all. His only thought is to be where they live at daylight to collect his loot …’

  ‘Then what does she get out of it all?’

  ‘She? Love, so she thinks. Also the power to hold him, through fear of the Law, even though he takes everything from her.’

  ‘And he?’

  ‘He gets the good time: nice suits, and drinks, and taxi fares, and money to gamble all way. They never save it.’

  ‘And can they separate if they want to?’

  ‘The one who first will wish to leave will be the partner who is stronger. If the chick is making a good business, she can turn her eye on a new boy. Or the man may grow up to be a fashion among those women, and all then will try to steal him from his girl. Dorothy, for example: she now wishes to leave Billy Whispers, so I hear.’

  ‘To go to whom?’

  ‘I have been kindly suggested by her.’

  ‘You’d not do that …’

  ‘Me? No, thank you. I have my family to think of, and my blood.’

  ‘What will Billy Whispers do if she should go?’

  ‘Use the razor on Dorothy, I should say. Unless she first shops him to such police officers as Mr Inspector Purity.’

  ‘But if she does, the case must be proved in court?’

  ‘With the woman as witness, that is not difficult at all. But when the man comes out of his jail again, that chick should leave town by the first train she can catch.’

  I finished my drink, and held out my hand to thank her. ‘Telephone me, Johnny,’ she said. ‘You’ve got the number.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘You promise?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Kiss me goodbye.’

  While holding her, I thought of Dorothy and Billy, and whether I should not go down to Brixton and advise that little Gambian to turn his Miss Dorothy loose before the trouble started. These serious thoughts were interrupted by Miss Theodora, who was saying in my ear, ‘Won’t you just once, Johnny? I promise I’ll never ask you ever again …’

  Oh dear, this female person! Where was her modesty? ‘Oh well, if you feel so bad,’ I said to her. ‘Where is it you keep your bedroom in this flat?’

  9

  The Blake Street gamble-house

  When I left Mr Vial’s party, I wandered across the silent reaches of Mayfair, which, in the middle night, looked like crissed-crossed canals where the water of life had drained away. In a vast, sad, dramatic square, I paused in the lamp- and moonlight, and gazed at the blue foliage of huge, languishing trees. I took out a cigarette. ‘Light, Mr Pew?’ said someone. ‘You don’t remember me?’ the voice continued. ‘I thought we’d be meeting again before too long.’

  ‘You’re acting mysteriousl
y, whoever you are. You must be a member of the secret service.’

  ‘As a matter of fact, that’s what I thought you might possibly be.’

  I turned, and saw Detective-Inspector Purity of the CID. He was wearing a tuxedo with a considerable air, had his hands in his coat pockets, and an empty pipe clenched between his teeth. ‘I’m out and about around the clubs tonight,’ he said. ‘Routine check-up, that’s all it is. As I was saying. I know it’s not my concern, but I thought you were doing special work of one kind or another.’

  ‘Did you?’

  He came rather nearer and put the pipe in his breast pocket. ‘It stands to reason, Mr Pew, that someone from the service must be keeping an eye on these coloured folk, and I saw at once an official like yourself wouldn’t be mucking in with them like you did that night we picked you up, unless you had your cover story ready …’

  ‘If I were what you suggest, of course I wouldn’t tell you.’

  ‘Naturally … though I could always try to check … But it’s clear as daylight someone is watching these colonials – the troublesome elements among them. First the Maltese come, then the Cypriots, and now this lot! They don’t make the copper’s task any the easier.’

  ‘You find that colonials are more trouble than the natives?’

  ‘What natives? Oh, I see what you mean. No, I don’t suppose so, really … but it’s a new problem. When they come unstuck, of course, they get more publicity in the Press than ours do. But I don’t suppose their criminality is out of all proportion … It’s just that they’re there, you see.’

  ‘I’ll say good night to you.’

  ‘Yes, I thought we’d be meeting again,’ Inspector Purity said, falling in alongside as I moved away. ‘You’ve been to a party, I expect?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Good one? Jolly? There are some very nice flats around the Marble Arch …’ He stopped a minute. ‘By the way, you didn’t mind me asking you what I did?’

  ‘About my job? I’ve left the Colonial Department, as it happens.’

  ‘Yes, I heard that – word gets around.’ He sounded pleased. ‘And now you’re just a private person.’