Реймонд Маршалл - The Paw in the Bottle

‘Oh, nothing really, madam,’ Julie said, avoiding Blanche’s searching eyes, ‘I... I tidied up. There was a little sewing...’

Blanche snapped her fingers impatiently.

‘Never mind that,’ she said. ‘Did anyone call?’

‘Oh, no, madam.’

Blanche stared at her.

‘You mean to tell me no one except yourself has been in the flat over the week-end?’

Julie hesitated, then said, ‘Yes, madam, that’s right.’

‘How very odd,’ Blanche said. ‘The hall porter tells me your brother called on you yesterday.’

‘My... my brother?’ Julie stammered, realized a little late that Theo probably had difficulty in getting past the head porter and, as an excuse to get upstairs, had made out he was her brother. ‘Oh, yes, madam. I... I forget. My brother did come to see me. He didn’t stay long. I didn’t let him into the fiat. I hope you don’t mind.’

Blanche sipped her brandy. She felt that if she wasn’t careful the row she was longing to stage might not materialize.

‘I think you are lying,’ she said sharply. ‘I don’t believe you have a brother, and I don’t believe for one moment you didn’t ask this man into my flat.’

‘I assure you, madam,’ Julie said, fear giving her courage, ‘he didn’t come into the flat. He... he’s got a job on a ship and only came to say good-bye.’

Blanche glowered at her.

‘I see,’ she said.

‘There’s no point in pursuing that,’ she thought. ‘The little slut’s slippery, but I’ve not finished with her yet.’

‘So, apart from your brother, no one else has been here?’ she went on, lifting her eyebrows.

‘Had the hall porter told her that Wesley had been back?’ Julie wondered. ‘Had he been off duty?’ Wesley had asked her to say nothing. She stood hesitating, not knowing what to say.

‘Well, speak up!’ Blanche snapped.

Julie decided to risk it.

‘No one else, madam.’

Blanche smiled.

‘Not even, Mr. Wesley, Julie?’ she asked gently.

‘She knows,’ Julie thought. ‘Now, what am I to do?’

But Blanche gave her no opportunity to make excuses. She flared up into a furious rage.

‘So that’s it, is it?’ she stormed, starting out of her chair. ‘Of course, a blind man can’t be too particular. They say all cats are grey in the dark, but I’m surprised he picked on a skivvy!’

Julie felt herself go hot and then cold. But she knew there was nothing she dare do. She had to stay in this flat now until Mrs. French told her she could leave.

‘You’re making a mistake...’ she began.

‘Mistake?’ Blanche’s voice rose to a scream. ‘How dare you lie to me!’ She snatched up her glass of brandy and threw it at Julie. The glass whizzed past Julie’s head, smashed against the wall; some of the splinters narrowly missed her. ‘Get out of my sight, you dirty little slut!’

Julie made a bolt for the door as Blanche looked around for something else to throw at her. She neatly collided with Wesley as he came in.

‘What’s going on here?’ he demanded. ‘Blanche! What’s happening?’

‘I’ll tell you what’s happening!’ Blanche stormed. ‘I was just telling your cheap little mistress what I thought of her!’

Julie ran from the room. But she didn’t go far. As soon as she was out of sight, she paused to listen.

‘You’d better control yourself, Blanche,’ Wesley said quietly. ‘You don’t know what you’re saying.’

‘I suppose you’ll deny you stayed the night here with that chit?’

‘I stayed here on Saturday night,’ Wesley returned. ‘Does that annoy you?’

‘Then why did she say you weren’t here if you two haven’t been up to something?’

‘Because I told her to. Knowing your grubby little mind I foolishly thought it would save a scene. But I was wrong. Now are you satisfied?’

‘You cheap cad!’ Blanche said furiously, and there came the sound of a blow. There was a sudden crash of breaking glass and a thud as some piece of furniture fell over.

Horrified, Julie peered into the room.

Wesley was standing motionless, his hand to his face. Blanche, livid with fury, faced him. The occasional table lay on its side surrounded by fragments of glass from a smashed vase.

‘Now I hope you are satisfied,’ Wesley said in a strained voice.

‘I’m not, you useless fool!’ Blanche said, and struck him on the other side of his face with her open hand.

Julie caught her breath sharply, but neither of them heard her.

Wesley stepped back.

‘That’s enough, Blanche. You’re drunk. Go and lie down and sleep it off. You disgust me.’

‘Oh! I hate you!’ Blanche screamed at him. She looked wildly round the room, darted to the fireplace and snatched up the poker. There was a murderous expression in her eyes that chilled Julie. As Blanche rushed towards Wesley, brandishing the poker, Julie cried out, ‘Mind! She’s got a poker!’

But Wesley made no move to avoid Blanche, and Julie darted forward, seized Blanche’s wrist as she reached Wesley.

‘Don’t you dare touch him! How could you, when he’s blind?’ she cried.

Blanche wrenched her wrist free, gaped at Julie; her rage dying on her. Then, suddenly, she began to laugh. She turned away, dropping into an arm-chair and shook with gleeful mirth.

‘Oh, Howard, it’s too comic,’ she gasped. ‘The little fool actually thought I was going to hit you.’

Julie was dumbfounded. She felt herself turn white and then red. She was completely bewildered by Blanche’s malicious laughter.

‘Oh, run away, Julie,’ Blanche said, giggling. ‘You don’t have to protect him. I wouldn’t hurt him for anything.’

Julie gulped, backed away, and as she was leaving the room the front door bell rang.

Hugh Benton handed his hat and gloves to Julie, eyed her thoughtfully.

‘Mr. and Mrs. Wesley are at home, I believe,’ he said, raising his pale eyebrows. ‘I’ll find my way in.’ He entered the lounge, stood in the doorway, surveying the poker, the smashed vase and the pool of water on the carpet. His amber-coloured eyes looked quickly at Blanche.

‘Why, hello, Hugh,’ she said gaily. ‘How nice of you to come. I’ve been losing my temper again.’

‘Ah, I’m sorry to hear that.’ Benton moved into the room cautiously. ‘Hello, Howard; glad to see you back. I’m sorry I wasn’t in the office to welcome you. I took a long week-end at Brighton.’

‘They told me at the office,’ Wesley said stiffly. ‘I hope you enjoyed yourself.’

‘Pretty fair, thank you, pretty fair. Weather wasn’t what it might have been.’

‘I do hope you stayed at a good hotel, Hugh, dear,’ Blanche said sweetly. ‘Those cheap little places are so horrid, I always think. No fires, no meals in bed, no butter: dreadful.’

Benton winced.

‘Yes, I know what you mean,’ he said, wandered further into the room. ‘Still it’s difficult now: difficult times.’

‘For goodness’ sake,’ Blanche said impatiently. ‘Where’s Julie? Julie! Clear up this mess at once.’

Julie came in hurriedly, began to pick up the pieces of glass. As she worked, she was aware that Benton stared at her with inquisitive, probing eyes.

‘Have a drink, Hugh,’ Wesley said abruptly. ‘I’m not going out to-night. I have work to do.’

‘Oh, that’s a pity. I was wondering if you two would care to dine at my club,’ Benton said. ‘I’ll have a whisky I think. Can I persuade you to change your mind?’

‘Brandy for me, darling,’ Blanche said as Wesley made his way to the sideboard. ‘I’d love to dine at your club, Hugh, my pet. It’s such a lovely, dull, stuffy old place. Do let’s, Howard.’