Thirteen Steps Down

I did nothing about it. I soon had a girlfriend, anyway. I was away at university-I was training for five years, one year in the United States-and when I came home again, you were a famous model.'

'I remember,' she said.

'I got it into my head you must be an empty-headed frivolous woman. I thought all models were. Capricious too and what my mother calls stuck-up, and-well, with an I-only-getout-of-bed-for-ten-grand sort of attitude. Of course I couldn't help being attracted to you, but I got to think that if I was inyour company the way you were bound to talk and act would just make me angry. So 1didn't go with my parents when yours asked us next door for drinks. I knew you'd be there and that stopped me going with them the day before I oved.'

'So what happened?'

'Well, I knew that if I was ever alone with you I'd be boundt o ask you out, I couldn't help myself. I kept thinking too how my mother once said your mother told her how messy you were about the house and how unpunctual and I knew Icouldn't stand that. I've made a plan for my life, Nerissa, it's all worked out, where I'm going and how I'm going to get there. Among other things, I want a serious relationship. I'm nearly thirty-one and I'm looking to a long-term partnership, even marriage.'

She nodded, feeling his hands tighten over hers.

'Marriage and kids too. Why not? But I wasn't willing to travel that road, playing second fiddle to a woman everyone admired and adored. I didn't want to be with a womn who was careless and-well, profligate and extravagant. And I can't stand people who are always late. Frankly, I wasn't prepared tobe 'Mr. Nerissa Nash,' arriving at your sort of party-or what I thought was your sort of party-an hour late and then have no one talk to me because you were the cynosure of all eyes.'

She didn't know what 'cynosure' meant and she wasn't too sure about 'profligate.' She listened.

'But that day we encountered each other in St. James's Street,' he went on, 'that began to change me. I put you to the test in little ways. There was that dinner party, for instance.Youwere actually on time. And look at this place. I don't imagineyou clean it yourself but you certainly keep it the way the daily has done it. At dinner you talked about politics and morality and-well, even economics. I thought, I'll leave it awhile. If she phones me and starts being demanding or pulling her rank, if she thinks I'm hers for taking whenever she pleases,that'll be it. But you didn't.' He drew her a little toward him. 'You passed the test. 'With flying colors. I thought, yes, right, she's fit for what I want, she's really okay. So how about dinner tonight, Miss Nash?'

Her hands gently withdrawn from his, she moved a fewinches back along the sofa. Her heart, which normally had theslow steady beat, a doctor had told her, of an athlete or a wellexercisedyoung woman, now began to race and pound.

'I don't think so,' she said, and her voice, even to herselfsounded remote. 'I didn't know I was taking part in a quiz, acompetition, whatever. I wouldn't have if I'd known.'

'What are you talking about, sweetheart?'

'I'm not your sweetheart and I never will be. I don't do tests to see if I'm a-a suitable candidate.'

'Now, Nerissa, come on.':

'I'm what I am. And whoever does have a what-d'you-call it,permanent relationship with me, he'll have to take me as I am. Thank you for coming here and getting rid of that man. I'm grateful but we won't meet again.'

He got up, his face registering a simple lack of comprehension.

'Good-bye, Darel,' she said.

As soon as he had gone she picked up the phone, dialed the restaurant where she was lunching with the Vogue woman and said she'd be half an hour late. Then she wept for a little. The phone rang while she was redoing her makeup, repairing the damage tears had done. It was her father.

'Did he come?'

'Yes, he did. You shouldn't have, Dad. I know you meant well.'

'As long as I live I'm going to see my girl gets what she wants if it's in my power. When are you seeing him again?'

'Never. I'll call you later.'

She had one phone call to make before she went out. He picked up the phone after two rings.

'Rodney, will you take me out tonight? Somewhere awful. I fancy that Cockatoodle Club in Soho, I've never been there. We'll be late and get home late and have champagne. No, I know I don't drink but I'll break my rule tonight. Will you? You're a lamb. See you.'

She didn't have to have a partner, she didn't have to marry, she thought as she got into the taxi. She was young. Why notj ust enjoy herself? So long as she was nice to people and didn't get above herself or start thinking her looks were something she'd achieved and ought to be proud of. First of all, she'd go to her hairdresser and get him to do her hair in cornrowso r maybe even dreadlocks. She badly needed a gesture of defiance…

I can't call my home my own these days, Mix thought, coming downstairs to pick up what post he had. It was the following day, midway through the morning, and standing in the hallway, he could hear the voices from the drawing room of three women. Ma Winthrop, Ma Fordyce, and who was the third?He listened. Her mother of course, Mrs. Mumbo-jumbo. What was the point of them coming back here day after day? Until he realized what he was doing, he felt indignant on old Chawcer's behalf, not allowed to go away to friends for a few days. What business was it of theirs? Then he remembered she was dead.

Mrs. Mumbo-jumbo had probably heard all about his stand-off with bully boy the day before. On the other hand, Nerissa might not have told her. She migh want to get rid of bullyboy and establish a proper relationship with him before she said anything to her parents. He'd leave it a day or two and then he'd go back and hear what had happened after he'd decided the mature thing to do was leave. There was something about bully boy that reminded him of Javy, the look of him more than anything. Javy would be gray by now but before Mix left home he'd had that olive skin and pink cheeks and a lot of black hair. Women found him attractive, though Mix could never see why.

He'd been to the Benefit Office and signed on. They gave him some money and offered a whole lot of jobs he hadn't liked the look of. Time enough for that in a couple of weeks. Not wanting to encounter any of the three women, he picked up the Dig-it and the Wall mail-order catalogs and took them upstairs, though being neither a gardener nor a woman, they weren't much use to him. Twenty-two stairs to the floor where she'd slept, seventeen up to where no one slept and no one ever went, thirteen more to the top. He didn't always count them, not when he was afraid, but he did now, as if he could make them fourteen.

The thong lying in her lap, Hazel Akwaa was asking her aunt and Queenie if they had thought of going through Gwendolen's clothes. They both shook their heads and Oliveshrugged.

'It seems so intrusive, dear,' said Queenie, 'such an invasionof her privacy. I mean, how would you like it if you went away and your friends started rifling through your clothes? You'd feel violated.'

'Yes, I would if I'd told them where I was going and left the address of where I'd be. But if I'd disappeared and was missing I'd be glad. I'd want to be found.'

'On the whole, I think we should,' Olive said. They began climbing the stairs. 'I hope someone's feeding that cat.'

'Food has been put down for him every day but it's not been touched since Sunday. He's gone off somewhere.'

'It looks as if he went when Gwendolen went,' said Queenie.She told Hazel about the missing sheet.

'Are you quite sure?'

'She has such funny ways. 1 thought she could have just taken off the top sheet and left the bottom one and the blankets but I looked in the washing machine and even inside thatawful old copper-you never know with Gwendolen. She might even have taken it with her.'

'What, the cat or the sheet?'

'Well, either. No one, but no one, no matter how eccentric,would take a soiled bedsheet away somewhere to stay with friends. You'd have to be seriously mad to do that. And how could she manage a cat?'

By now they were all in Gwendolen's bedroom and Olive had opened the window because the weather was still fine and the sun shining.

'It doesn't smell very nice,' said Hazel.