James Chase - More Deadly Than the Male

Then later, when the band had left the dais for a short interval, she looked at him and raised her eyebrows.

“Shall we go?” she said, pushing back her chair.

Obediently George followed her down the stairs to the street. The sudden decision to leave, the complete indifference to his own plans, and her take-it-for-granted attitude that he wanted to go with her reminded him of Sydney Brant. That was how he behaved. Both of them knew what they wanted. They led: others followed.

Neither of them spoke as they walked along the pavement together. Cora’s small head, level with George’s shoulder, moved along smoothly before him, as if she were being drawn along on wheels. She left behind her the faintest smell of sandalwood.

The evening light was beginning to fade. Storm clouds crept across the sky. The air in the streets had become stale, like the breath of a sick man, and sudden gusts of hot wind sent dust and scraps of paper swirling around the feet of the crowd moving sullenly along the hot pavements.

At the corner of Orchard and Oxford Streets, Cora paused. She glanced along the street towards Marble Arch: a street thronged with people all making a leisurely way to the Park.

“I’m hungry,” she said. “Let’s get something to eat.”

“That’s an idea,” George said eagerly, conscious of Robinson’s eleven pounds in his wallet. “Where would you like to go? The Dorchester?” He was quite willing to spend his last penny on her if it would help to create a good impression. He had never been to the Dorchester, but he had heard about it. It was the smartest place he could think of that was close at hand.

“The what?” she asked, staring at him blankly. “Do you mean the Dorchester Hotel?”

He felt himself flushing. “Yes,” he said. “Why not?”

“What, in those clothes?” she asked, eyeing him up and down. “My dear man! They wouldn’t let you past the door.”

He looked at his worn shoes, his face burning. If she had struck him with a whip she couldn’t have succeeded in hurting him more.

“And what about me?” she went on, apparently unaware that she had so completely crushed him. “The Dorchester in these rags?”

“I—I’m sorry,” George said, not looking at her. “I just wanted to give you a good time. I—I didn’t think it mattered what you wore.”

“Well, it does,” she said coldly.

There was a long, awkward pause. George was too flustered to suggest anywhere else. She’ll go in a moment, he thought feverishly. I’m sure she’ll go. Why am I standing like this, doing nothing? I can’t expect her to suggest anything—it’s my place to make the arrangements.

But the more he tried to think where he could take her, the more panic-stricken he became.

She was eyeing him curiously now. He could feel her eyes on his face.

“Perhaps you have something else to do…” she said suddenly.

“Me? Of course not,” George said, over eager and almost shouting. “I—I’ve got nowhere to go. I just don’t go anywhere, that’s all. I—I don’t know where you’d like to go. Perhaps you’ll suggest something.”

“Where do you live?”

Astonished, George told her.

“Let’s go to your place,” she said. “I’m tired of the heat and the crowds.”

George could scarcely believe his ears.

“My place?” he repeated blankly. “Oh, you wouldn’t like that. I mean it’s only a room. It—it isn’t much. It’s not very comfortable.”

“It’s somewhere to sit, isn’t it?” she said, staring a little impatiently at him. “Or can’t you take women there?”

He hadn’t the faintest idea. It was something he had never contemplated doing. He had visions of Mrs Rhodes’ disapproving face, and he flinched away from the thought. Then he remembered once seeing one of the other boarders bring a lady visitor to his room. Of course, the visitor hadn’t been like Cora; but if one boarder could do it, wily couldn’t he? Besides, if they went at once, Mrs Rhodes would be in the basement having supper. She wouldn’t even see him.

“Oh, that’s all right,” he said eagerly. “Nothing like that. We can go if you would like to. It’s only the room isn’t much…”

She was beginning to move towards Edgware Road. Now that that was settled, she seemed to have lost interest in him. She walked on as if he wasn’t with her.

George tagged along behind. Of course he was excited. To have a girl like Cora in his room! He thought at least she would want to dance, or go to the pictures, or do something extravagant.

She suddenly stopped outside a snack bar.

"Let’s take something in with us,” she said, looking at the appetizing show in the window. Without waiting for him to agree, she entered the shop.

“Two chicken sandwiches, two cheese sandwiches and two apples,” she said to the white-coated attendant behind the counter.

George planked down a ten-shilling note while the attendant packed the sandwiches and apples in a cardboard container.

“How much?” Cora asked, ignoring George’s money. “That’ll be two and six, miss,” the attendant said, looking first at her and then at George.

“Here you are,” George said, pushing the note towards the attendant

Cora put down one shilling and threepence. “That’s my share,” she said shortly, and picked up the cardboard container.

“I say!” George protested. “This is my show.” And he tried to give her back her money.

“Keep it,” she said, turning towards the door. “I always pay for myself.”

“You can’t do that…” George said feebly, but she was already moving away, and by now had left the shop.

“The sort of girl I’d like to go out with,” the attendant said wistfully. “Most of ’em take the linings from your pockets.”

George, his face burning, snatched up his change and ran after Cora.

When he caught up with her, he said, “You really must let me pay…”

“Now shut up!” Cora said. “I never accept anything from any man. I’m independent, and if I’m going to see you again, the sooner you understand that the better.”

If she was going to see him again! George stared at her hopefully. Did that mean…? He blinked. It must mean that. People just didn’t say things like that if they didn’t intend seeing you again.

“Well, if you really want to…” he said, not quite sure how he should react to such an ultimatum.

“I do!” she returned emphatically. “Now come on, don’t stand there blocking the way.”

“We’ll want some beer,” George said, falling in step beside her. “I suppose you want to pay for your bottle, too?” He said it half jokingly, and then looked at her quickly to see if he had caused offence.

She glanced at him. "I’m certainly going to pay for my own beer,” she said. “Does that amuse you?”

And as he looked down at her, arrogant, small but durable, it happened. He found himself suddenly, utterly and completely in love with her. It was an overpowering feeling that stupefied him, made him water at the eyes, made him weak in the legs.

They looked at each other. Whether she saw the change in him, he wasn’t sure. He felt she must be able to read his thoughts. She couldn’t fail to see how completely crazy he was about her. If she did, she made no sign, but went on, her head a little higher, her chest arched.

They bought two bottles of beer at the off-licence at the corner of George’s street. Then they went on to the boardinghouse.

“I’m afraid it isn’t much,” George muttered apologetically as he opened the front door. “But if you think you’ll like it…” His voice died away as he glanced uneasily round the hall.

There was no one about. The sound of dishes clattering in the basement reassured him.