'I thought you might like a refill.'
'Oh, well, yes, thank you. It's most kind of you, but I don't usually drink more than one.'
'Well, you can't refuse a gift, can you? Besides, you looked all alone over here, and we can't have that, not at the Pig and Whistle.'
'Oh no, I'm not all alone. I mean, I am alone, but not— oh dear, that's not coming out right, is it? Please sit down.' I fumbled my shoes back on and straightened my back.
He placed his glass on the table and took possession of the chair across from me. He was a big man, not tall, but with broad shoulders and a bit of a belly to show for his intemperate habits. Erect bearing, still the military man.
'Colonel Dennis Edwards, at your service, miss.' His hand sketched a humorous salute, and he grinned. Oh dear, I thought, what a very nice smile.
'Mary Small,' I said, and held out my right hand to have the fingers shaken. Instead, he took my hand and raised it to his lips. I blushed. Yes, truly I did, although the wine helped. He was greatly amused.
'Miss Small— it is Miss, I trust?' I inclined my head. Direct lies were the most difficult, although Mary Small was not a married woman. 'Miss Small, I don't believe I've seen you here before, have I?'
'No, I'm new to the area, Colonel Edwards.'
'I thought as much. I didn't think I could overlook such a flower as yourself.'
I did not know quite how to respond to this, and I decided that Mary Small did not know, either. I smiled awkwardly and sipped my sherry, grateful for the sandwiches I had eaten to absorb the alcohol. The colonel soon fetched yet another round, which left me feeling quite warm and seemed not to affect him, beyond stepping up his volubility. He talked about this neighbourhood as if it were his personal possession, told me about the process by which it was being swallowed by greedy London town, told me about his army career. He talked; I listened. Mary Small seemed very good at listening, first to Rosie, now to the colonel. In fact, people responded to her shyness with words, pouring out their life stories. By eight o'clock, two of the darts players had joined us, the publican's wife, and the publican himself occasionally, all apparently set on thrusting their personal histories on this tall, quiet, pale young woman in the tinted glasses. I have no great head for alcohol, and although I had managed quietly to rid myself of almost half of what was brought me, I had drunk more in the last couple of hours than I normally drank in a week. I felt flushed all over, my hair was coming down, the loud voices battered my senses, and a high and nagging voice spoke in my ear, warning me that I was going to make an awful mistake if I was not careful.
I rose abruptly, and five sets of eyes looked up at me uncertainly. I faced the wife and asked, with immense dignity, for the use of her facilities.
When I returned a few minutes later, considerably cooler and my hair under control, the party had broken up, but the colonel remained, and he stood when I entered.
'Miss Small, it occurs to me that neither of us have dined. Would you care to join me? Just a simple meal. There's a nice restaurant up the street.'
This is really too easy, I thought happily.
'Oh, Colonel, it would be lovely, but I have to be up early tomorrow. I have an interview for a position at eight-thirty on the other side of town, and I really mustn't miss it, I'm getting— well, the situation is becoming a bit urgent. I must find work by the end of the week, or— well, I must, that's all. So I'd enjoy having dinner with you, but—'
'But of course you'll have dinner with me. Just a quick dinner, nothing fancy, and we'll have you in early. Where are you living?'
I told him where the boardinghouse was located and protested weakly, but of course he overrode my objections, and so we went to dinner. It was a pleasant-enough meal, and the wine was superb, causing me to regret the earlier alcoholic treacle that I had swallowed. The colonel drank my share, however, and seemed to enjoy it. I heard more of his story, his love for hunting, the book he was writing, his cars. Finally, over coffee, he fell silent, and as I looked down at my cup, I felt his eyes on me for a long minute.
'Don't go to that interview tomorrow,' he said. I raised my eyes in surprise.
'Oh, but I must. I can't afford to miss the chance. I have to find work, I told you. If I don't, I shall be forced to go home.' I made it sound most unpleasant.
'Where is home?'
'Oxfordshire. Outside Didcot.' Not too far from the truth.
'And what do you do, that you interview for?' Here it came.
'Oh, anything, really. Except cooking,' I had to add in all honesty. 'I'm hopeless in the kitchen. But anything else. The interview tomorrow is for a personal secretary, which would be ideal. Correspondence, typing, a bit of research— she's a writer— driving. All things I can do, and it pays well. I can't let it go by,' I repeated.
'Certainly you can. Come work for me.'
The jackpot. O frabjous day! I thought, but I put on a face full of distress and embarrassment.
'Oh, Colonel, I couldn't do that. It's terribly nice of you to be concerned about me, and I do truly appreciate it, but I couldn't possibly take advantage of your kindness.'
'It's not kindness; it's a job offer. My own secretary left several weeks ago,' (slammed out of the house after the colonel had emptied a desk drawer over her head, according to Tea Shoppe Rosie) 'and the work's been piling up ever since. And, as I said, I'm writing a book, and you say you can do research. I've never been much for libraries. Plus that, you drive. I don't. I get tired of taking taxis on my chauffeur's days off. What do you say?'
'Are you serious, Colonel Edwards?'
'Absolutely. What was the pay at the other job?'
I told him a figure, he increased it 10 percent, I protested that he didn't know my qualifications, said I refused to accept charity, so he lowered it to 5 percent, with the other 5 percent to come after review in a month. As I had no intention whatsoever of being with him in a month, I accepted, with the proper degree of gratitude and confusion. This pleased him greatly, and a bit later, after much brandy and talk, he accompanied me to Billy's cousin's boardinghouse with a proud, almost possessive set to his jaw and shoulders. As I closed the door and heard the taxi drive off, I couldn't help wondering if he thought he had bought me or won me, and further, if he would see a difference in the two.
I unbuckled the straps of my oppressive shoes and walked in stockinged feet through the still house, through the odours of tinned curry powder and stale cabbage and underwashed bodies, up the worn stair runners to my room. I turned up the gas with an irrational pang of hope that Holmes (with that customary disregard of his for agreed-to plans that made it impossible to depend on his whereabouts) might be revealed in a corner, but I saw only a slip of paper that someone had pushed under the door. It was from my landlady, to inform me that a gentleman had rung twice and would telephone again tomorrow night.
Tonight, really, I saw from my watch. So much for an early dinner. The realisation of the hour and the sudden contrast of stillness and solitude after the long, tense day made me feel dizzy, but I knew I could never sleep, not until my brain slowed down. I undressed mechanically, brushed out my hair at the leprous mirror, and thought.
I had to admit, grudgingly and to myself, that a part of me liked this man Edwards. The part of me that was closest to Mary Small responded to him and thought how very pleasant the evening had been. He was intelligent, if not particularly brilliant, and had an easy way of understanding how to make people relax and enjoy themselves. He had probably been a very good commander of men, with that ability. He had made me laugh several times, despite my (and my character's) anxiety.
Physically, he was the complete opposite of Holmes. Scarcely my height, he was heavily muscled and gave the impression of power. Even his expensive suit rode uneasily on his shoulders, but my mind skittered away from the thought that he would look most natural with few clothes on. His hair was still full and only beginning to show grey at the temples and ears. He seemed to be a hairy man, for in the restaurant the light had reflected from a dark copper fur on the backs of his broad hands and thick fingers, and his cheeks had shown stubble by midnight. Odd for a man with hair of that colour, I thought absently.
Yes, Mary Small had liked him, had, in fact, found him attractive. Sweet, protected virgin that she was, she found his attention and authority flattering. Russell, however— that was another matter. As Mary Small began to fade in the mirror and I continued to analyse the evening's currents, I found that I was, underneath, distinctly annoyed. What another woman might find appealingly masculine, I reflected, was also just plain boorish. From the first glass of sherry, unasked for and unwanted, to the dinner menu, ordered without consultation, the evening had been one of not-so-subtle manipulation and domination. It was, admittedly, the usual thing, but I did not like it one
