Реймонд Маршалл - The Paw in the Bottle

‘I merely mentioned the fact to remind you that she has worn them. I thought perhaps you would feel squeamish to wear the clothes of a dead woman.’

She was genuinely astonished.

‘But why? Of course, I wouldn’t wish to wear the dress she was murdered in — that’d be horrible, but the other clothes, why not? Why should they be wasted?’

‘Has it occurred to you that I might dislike to see you in my wife’s clothes?’

‘Why should you? She had hundreds of dresses. There must be dozens she wore when you were blind. Why should it matter to you if you don’t know them?’

He suddenly laughed.

‘You have an answer for everything. What a little ghoul you are. All right, Julie, have them by all means. I want you to be happy.’

She was quick to seize that opportunity.

‘Why?’

He stretched his legs towards the fire and smiled at her.

‘Why not? Why shouldn’t I try to make someone happy?’

‘And what do you get out of it?’

‘I have a charming companion, and besides, it interests me to see you emerging from your chrysalis. Why do you look so suspicious? Don’t you believe people help others without an ulterior motive?’

‘Men don’t help me without a motive. You said you wanted me to be your mistress. You have a funny idea of a mistress, haven’t you?’

‘I don’t recollect saying anything of the kind. I have no intention of making you my mistress, as you so crudely put it. I offered you a home, security and a thousand a year. I made no conditions. It is you who are interpreting the terms, and wrongly. I want nothing from you except to know you are happy.’ He paused to light a cigarette, went on: ‘Suppose you run along and change? If you want those dresses we’d better go over to the flat and get them.’

‘You don’t have to come. I can get them without bothering you.’

‘Don’t deprive me of your company, Julie; and besides, the hall porter might think you were stealing them.’

She felt colour rise in her cheeks.

‘Aren’t you going to the factory anymore?’ she asked, to change the subject. ‘Should you spend so much time with me?’

‘I can manage the factory quite well from here, Julie. Are you anxious that I shall run out of money? There’s no need to be worried. I have very able assistants.’ He was obviously laughing at her. ‘Will you get changed now? I wouldn’t like you to catch cold.’

She slammed the door as she left the room. It was the only way in which she could express her feelings.

She didn’t notice how pale he was as they rode up in the lift to the flat in Park Way. She was far too excited at the thought of possessing all those lovely clothes even to look at him. She had no misgivings about entering the flat again. Even the faint brown stain on the carpet meant nothing to her. Blanche might never have existed, and Harry was but a vague uneasy stirring of conscience far at the back of her mind.

While she was choosing the dresses Wesley paced up and down, his hands deep in his pockets, his chin on his chest. And when she selected one particular dress and held it up for inspection, he said suddenly with a rasp in his voice: ‘No! Not that one. Put it back!’

‘But I like it,’ she said, and her mouth set obstinately. ‘It’s just right for my colouring. Why shouldn’t I have it?’

‘Put it back!’

She saw the lines of pain on his face and the glitter in his eyes and recognized the danger signals. There were plenty of other dresses to choose from and with a little shrug she put the dress back.

‘Aren’t you nearly ready?’ he demanded impatiently. ‘You’ll never wear all those things.’

‘Oh yes, I will. You don’t think I’m going to miss an opportunity like this? All my life I’ve longed to have masses of clothes: I’ve got them now.’

At last she was ready to leave. She had packed two large suitcases with the clothes she had chosen, but even then she wasn’t satisfied. The room, she knew, contained jewellery and furs. She was reluctant to leave without some of them.

‘Couldn’t I have some jewellery?’ she asked, and smiled coaxingly. ‘Those dresses will look awfully bare without something to set them off.’

He stared at her for a long uncomfortable moment.

‘You’re never contented, it seems, Julie. Well, all right. I suppose I’d better find you something.’

He turned off the alarms to the safe and opened it, and began to look through the drawers in the steel cabinet. She joined him but he turned quickly, standing between her and the drawers.

‘I said I would find you something. Will you please sit over there until I have decided what you shall have?’

‘But why can’t I choose for myself? I know what I want.’

‘If you don’t sit down, you won’t have anything.’

She was angry, but again the glitter in his eyes subdued her, and with a sulky shrug she walked to the window. But she needn’t have worried: his selection took her breath away, especially the diamond necklace he so carelessly dumped on the table.

‘Oh! How beautiful! Can I really have them? Are you giving them to me?’

‘I’m lending them to you. Everything you are using is lent, Julie.’

She gave him a quick puzzled glance, but she was too excited to bother about terms and conditions. These jewels were for her to wear. She could worry about whether she was to keep them or not later. She wanted to try on the necklace immediately but he wouldn’t let her. He seemed suddenly anxious to get away from the flat.

Even when she had the two suitcases full of clothes and the jewellery she still hankered after the furs.

‘Couldn’t I have one of the fur coats?’ she asked as she put the jewellery in her handbag. ‘I’d love the Arctic fox. Shall we take it with us?’

He closed the safe.

‘No! Be content with the mink coat I gave you, and do stop asking for things. You are not having any of the furs. Aren’t you ever satisfied?’ He picked up the suitcases and made for the door. ‘It’s no use looking sulky. Come on, Julie, don’t behave like a child.’

She followed him into the lift, inwardly fuming. She wanted the Arctic fox now more than anything in the world, but she knew it wasn’t wise at this moment to press for it. Later, she would plan a campaign to get it. She was confident that if she kept on and on at him he would let her have it.

That evening they had gone to Segetti’s restaurant because Julie had wished to show off her diamond necklace in the smartest restaurant in London.

Benton had spoilt their evening, and now, in the taxi going home, she sat frozen with rage.

Wesley had remained calm and quiet during the scene and after. She hated him for being so unmoved, feeling he had slighted her by not being angry with Benton. Brooding about this she could no longer keep silent and burst out: ‘How dare he call me names like that! The beast! You’re not going to let him get away with this, are you? He was your wife’s lover. You’re not going to let him insult me as well?’

Without looking at her he said in a cold, contemptuous voice: ‘Hold your vulgar little tongue!’

She was so taken aback that she sank against the leather seat of the taxi and lapsed into outraged silence. Neither of them said anything until they were once more inside their flat.

Then Julie rounded on him, her face flushed and her eyes glittered with anger.

‘I’m sick of this! I’m not staying with you a moment longer. I don’t know why I ever came here. You’re always beastly to me.’

Wesley wandered across the room and turned on the electric fire. He looked tired and drawn but there was a sparkle of anger in his eyes, too.

‘If you want to go, then go. I won’t stop you, but you’ll take nothing with you. Do you understand? If you leave here you’ll go in your own clothes and not the clothes I lent you. Go to your room. I’m tired of you to-night.’