Читать книгу The Man Who Loved Lions - Ethel Lina White - Страница 13

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The check was so unexpected that Ann felt as though she had run into a brick wall.

"You must remember Stephen," she insisted. "He was leader."

"No," corrected John. "Richard was leader."

"But Stephen was leader of the opposition. He never let Richard get away with anything."

"Oh, that blighter." John blew out his cheeks. "I'd clean forgotten him. He was a dirty spoilsport. He never let any of us make a pass at you."

Ann was sidetracked by her own astonishment. Her inferiority complex had caused her to worship her companions in silence, but she had no idea of the attraction of her youthful gravity, founded on experience. While the others shouted their views on those subjects which are dealt with adequately in realistic novels, she, alone, had first-hand knowledge of poverty, alcoholism and the symptoms of certain unadvertised illnesses.

"I can't believe you," she said. "No one would want to make a pass at me. I was so stupidly young."

"That was the attraction," chuckled John. "You were young. We only had the other girls to get you."

Although she felt sure that he was lying, it thrilled Ann to hear that Stephen had acted as her guardian angel.

"Haven't you heard anything about Stephen?" she persisted.

"No," replied John. "He just dropped out. While we are waiting, what about a spot?"

It did not need a specialised knowledge to tell her that John had already drunk more than he could carry. She caught his arm before his fingers closed around the decanter.

"We must wait for Richard," she said. "If we don't we are giving him a swell chance to insult us...Tell me about yourself. What's your work?"

To her relief he swallowed the bait of her assumed interest.

"I'm a journalist," he replied.

"That's brainy. Are you married?"

"Yes, if you can call it that. I've certain matrimonial privileges. I feed a lady with expensive tastes and I pay her dress bills. Another chap gets all the rest. That's modern marriage...Ann, I could kill that other chap."

"Why don't you?"

"Because I can never keep track of him. He's always a different chap...Ann, I'm going to ask you something and I want a straight answer...Why didn't you recognise me?"

"If it comes to that, why didn't you recognise me?"

"Because you've grown into a glamour girl. But I can't see how I've changed. I look the same in the glass. Filled out a bit, of course, but my hair's still thick and I don't give at the knees. Last time you saw me what was I like?"

"Like a young Greek god."

Directly she spoke, Ann regretted her words because of the misery in John's eyes.

"Don't know any gods," he said with a forced laugh. "They're not in my street. But I get the idea. No pubs in Elysium. That what you mean?...Actually, I can't write unless I'm boozed and I have an expensive wife. Disgusted?"

"Of course not." Ann felt a rush of sympathy. "I'm only sorry. Can't you shake out of it?"

"Actually, I could. Nobody would believe this, but really I am a domestic chap. I want a home and kids. And I could have them, even now. There's the right sort of girl in my life—a girl who would pick up my bits and make them into a man. None of your cock-eyed gods."

It was characteristic of Ann to go to the point.

"Can you get a divorce from your wife?" she asked.

"Definitely," John assured her. "Any number of them. Actually I'm too weak to make the break. I've got her under my skin. That kind of hold."

"Still, I wish you could. I'd like to think of you with a happy ending, John, because of those old days."

She realised that her sympathy was a mistake when John began to gulp. To stop him from becoming maudlin, she asked him a question.

"How did you get here before me? I left you in the bus."

"I baled out about half a mile further on. There's a new entrance now—a short-cut to the house, all uphill and up steps."

As he explained, John drummed with his fingers on the table and glanced pointedly at the decanter.

"What do we do now?" he asked.

"I stay here until twelve," Ann told him. "I want to meet the others."

"If I hunt round I might produce Richard and Isabella. You can wash out the rest. Too far for Victoria to come out of sentiment, for she's got none. And there's no money in it for James."

"There's still Stephen."

"That bloke again? He's dead. Must be. There's a war on. He's either one of the Few or one of the Great Majority. Same thing in the end."

"No, he's not dead. I know he's alive. He must be."

John stopped drumming the table and looked at her with troubled eyes.

"It's getting plain to me why you've come," he said. "Ann, do believe me. It's a hundred to one chance you will meet him here. Take my tip and go—at once—while the going's good."

"Why?"

"You may well ask. Do you remember Richard's hooded look?"

Ann nodded as she remembered how occasionally Richard seemed to withdraw himself completely behind the shutter of leaden drooped lids. At such moments she felt acutely apprehensive and prayed that she might never see his eyes lest they revealed too much. She still felt chilled as John went on speaking.

"I bumped into Richard outside, on my way up. He was running like hell—and he had his hooded look...That means it's not safe to hang around. It means that things are going to happen. And when things happen he doesn't want people there to see them happen. If they did catch on, well, it might be too bad for them...Got the idea?"

"Yes. You're trying to make me windy. But it's childish. If Richard were a criminal lunatic, he'd be certified. Besides why should he pick on me to attack, especially here with people round? He has no interest in me, one way or the other."

After a struggle, John managed to rise from his chair. He lurched to the door—listened—and then closed it.

"You've forgotten one thing," he said. "Richard is in control of this outfit and he's got a queer sense of humour. He's got us to come here on the Q.T. Don't you think a Zoo rather a loaded toy for him to play about with?"

Although Ann remembered her fright when she blundered up against the elephant-house, she summoned her common sense.

"The animals are all safe in cages," she said. "Are they specially savage?"

"Good grief, no. Tame as kittens. Richard and the old man take them about on leads, like dogs. They're bred in captivity and used to private baths and bedside telephones. But my point is this. They can be frightened. Suppose any one threw a lighted cracker when Big Ben was passing with one of his kittens, what price his control then?...Ann, go back before you meet Richard again. He's out of your life. For the love of Mike don't let him in again."

Ann smiled at him as she shook her head.

"John, you're rather sweet," she told him. "But get a load of this. I've come to the reunion. That stands."

He looked at her firm lips and his own trembled as though he regretted the contrast. Seeking consolation his hand moved towards the decanter but he drew it back again.

"If it's like that with you," he said, "I'll find the others."

She guessed his objective was to find a drink elsewhere, but she watched him go with a tolerant smile. While she felt she was unqualified to judge him without knowledge of the facts, she was filled with anger when she thought of the woman who had exploited his weakness.

"If ever I meet his wife," she thought, "I'm bound to tell her she's a stinker."