Джон Пристли - Salt is Leaving

"To the ladies" loo first, if you've no objection-"

"Perfect from every point of view. Then go down to the Grill – and if I'm already there, then join me of course – but if I'm not, simply ask for a table for two and wait for me. And get one out of the way, in a corner, if you can."

She stared at him for a moment. Even now she was never quite sure if he was really in earnest. "Now look – if you mean this – hadn't you better explain what the idea is? Have you some reason for our not being seen together?"

"Partly that. Partly, too, that there are some things I ought to do by myself. Now Maggie, please, off you go." But he gave her a smile.

As she walked out slowly, she heard a scream of laughter coming from some girl in the corner on the left; nearly all the tables were occupied now, and people seemed to be two-deep at the long, curved bar; the two red-coated waiters were hurrying with loaded trays; and seeping through the mosaic of noise like warm flooding syrup came the sound of the hotel's canned music. And it was hard to believe that she was here because Salt was here, because Salt was still thinking about a girl's body left in a cavity in a wall. No doubt he could join everything together, making one world out of it all, but she couldn"t. It was all split up, and it split her up, making her feel bewildered and terribly inadequate. If she was so close to Salt that she saw everything through him, would that do the joining-up trick for her? But what would she be giving him then, what would she have to offer?

The Ladies didn't help. The woman looking after it was all right, quite friendly, but the place itself suggested it was waiting for girls more important and better-dressed than Maggie Culworth of Hemton. Even when she had re-done her face, putting in some rather reckless eye-shadow work too, it still made her feel a rather shabby little thing. So when she reached the Grill Room she was relieved to discover, after some staring around, that Salt was already there.

2

They had eaten avocados with a French dressing, saddle of mutton, cheese (for him) and fruit salad (for her), had drunk a bottle of a beautifully soft claret whose name she never bothered to learn, and were now talking idly over their coffee. Between the mutton and his cheese, Salt had asked her to excuse him and had then been absent for about five minutes. Throughout the meal nothing had been said about Noreen Wilks, young Donnington and old Donnington, Colonel Ringwood and Superintendent Hurst. And it seemed to her that just talking about other people and things was like escaping from a dark house into clear sunlight. Moreover, having been persuaded to drink some Cointreau with her coffee, she was feeling rather dreamy. She tried to imagine herself in the Dordogne.

"I've never been there, but Alan has and he showed me a lot of photographs."

"Been where?" But Salt wasn't really attending. He was busy with a cigar that was trying to unravel itself.

"Oh – sorry! The Dordogne. That's where you said you were going, didn't you?"

"Yes, yes – of course." He was now out of his cigar muddle. "I'll only be there a week or ten days. Then I drive to Barcelona, and then to Zurich. There's a man in Barcelona and another man in Zurich who are specializing in certain kidney diseases. Too late for me to do that – and, anyhow, I like people, not microscopes – but I want to see what they"re doing. And I have a few notes that might interest them."

"I must say, that's not my idea of a holiday. The Dordogne – yes. Marvellous! And Barcelona's rather exciting. I've been there. But then the kidneys take over."

"Given the right time and place, I could keep you enthralled by my story of the kidney – its disasters and triumphs, its hopes and fears. But not here, not now." He looked at his watch. "Just after ten. So – we go to work. You ready?"

"I suppose so," she said reluctantly. "But I won't pretend I'm in the right mood for it, especially if there's anything difficult to do."

"No, no – all as easy as pie-"

"Pie can be terribly difficult-"

"Not this one. I want you to go to the eighth floor. If there are any chambermaids or waiters around – and I think it's unlikely – just waste time until they've gone. Look at your nose, powder it – that sort of thing."

"You needn't tell me. I've done hours of it. Every girl has. So what do I do if the corridor's clear?"

"You ring, knock or bang on the door of 806. If it's not opened at once, don't give up. Try at least once again. If and when it is opened, then tell an urgent but rather confused story that will keep it open. You believe – let's say – that a small parcel intended for you in 906 may have been delivered to 806. You"re awfully sorry to disturb him but would he mind making sure the parcel isn't there – you know?"

"He might want me to make sure with him. And a lot of things could happen after that, especially if he's a young man and has had a few drinks."

"If he asks you in, then he won't have anybody in there with him, and the whole exercise is washed out. Just mutter some excuse and buzz off."

"You mean I'm really trying to discover if this man has got a girl in there? While I'm telling my story and the door's open, I'm listening for any possible screams, giggles, scraps of girlish song or impatient cries from the bedroom – um?"

"That's very sharp of you, Maggie-"

"No, it isn"t. The female mind works like lightning along those lines, Salt. Then what do I do?"

"You don't come down again. You go up to the tenth floor – stairs or lift – make sure nobody's watching you and then let yourself into my little suite – 1012. And here's the key." He handed it over. "Close the door, but don't let it lock itself. That's so that I can pretend to be unlocking it when I arrive. If somebody sees me, so much the better."

"Is this part of the Room 806 plot or something different?"

"Quite different." He grinned. "But they both belong to a grander plot."

"Salt dear, do you really know what you"re doing? Or is it the mixture of whisky, claret and brandy that's at work?"

"That's helping, no doubt. But I had all this in mind before the mixture began to work." The grin vanished. "I may be guessing a bit wildly, but I'm not just fooling around, Maggie. For one thing, I can't afford the time."

"A pity in a way," she sighed. "Now I come to think of it, I'm more in the mood for fooling around. But, after all, it was your dinner that created the mood. And thank you, Dr Salt – it was lovely. And now I'll go – a mousey type creeping around like a mouse." She got up.

"No, Maggie," he told her quite sharply as he got up too. "There's one thing wrong there."

"Oh dear – what?"

"You"re not a mousey type."

Her pleasure at hearing this lasted until the lift, which she had to herself, brought her to the eighth floor. No chambermaids or waiters or guests could be seen along the corridor that led her to 806. Outside the door she hesitated, rehearsing what she had to say, feeling silly. She pressed the button and heard the buzzer inside. Nothing happened. Resisting an impulse to leave it at that and hurry away, she pressed again, longer this time. "Oh – for God's sake!" she heard a man saying. "Now what is it?" Then he opened the door.

He was a big, youngish man who was pulling a dressing gown round him, and his hair was rumpled, his colour high, his eyes rather bleary.

"I'm so sorry," she began.

"Wrong room," he told her.

"Well, that's the point. I'm in 906, you see, and I think that a parcel I'm expecting may have been delivered here by mistake."

"No parcel here."

"Are you sure?" He was already closing the door.

"Of course I am. "Night."

And that was that. She decided against using a lift again, found the stairs and walked as fast as she could, in what she was certain must have looked a very suspicious manner, up to the tenth floor. But nobody was about. It was rather like wandering about an hotel in a dream. But then, on her way to 1012, she heard voices behind her. Two people must have just arrived by the lift. She stopped, took out her compact and looked at her reflected nose, to allow them to pass her. It was a nonsensical move really; any girl in her right mind would either have fixed her nose downstairs or would wait now until she reached her room; but of course it worked and the couple ignored her. They had, in fact, disappeared by the time she moved on again slowly. She had a moment's panic when the door of 1012 didn't seem to respond to the key Salt had given her, but then a reverse turn took her in. In her relief she slammed the door behind her. After switching on some lights, she remembered what Salt had said about the door and she made haste to unfasten it so that he could push it open. By this time, after all that dinner and drink and anxiety, she felt hot and rather sickish inside, so she went to the bathroom and drank some cold water that wasn't cold and didn't taste like water. Then she returned to the idiotic little sitting room, kicked off her shoes and curled up on the sofa, and not only waited for Salt but thought about him.