Реймонд Маршалл - The Paw in the Bottle

‘No!’ she whispered, struggling. ‘Stop it, Harry! You mustn’t!’

His mouth came down on hers. For a moment she continued to struggle, then her arms went round his neck.

‘Damn you!’ she said against his mouth, and then, ‘Hold me tighter.’

The morning sunlight came through the dowdy chintz curtains. A milkman shouted angrily to his horse and then set down his bottles with a penetrating clatter. Further up the road the postman rapped sharply on a door.

Julie stirred, stretched, yawned. Through the half-open bathroom door came the sound of running water. She moved her legs under the sheet and sighed contentedly.

‘Got all you want, Harry?’ she called sleepily.

‘I’ll want some tea in a moment. Aren’t you out of bed yet?’

‘I’m just getting up,’ Julie said, turned over and pulled the blanket up to her chin.

‘I bet.’ Harry came to the door. He had a towel round his middle and she thought he looked like a boxer. He was muscular, hard and tanned. ‘Come on out before I throw you out.’

‘I’m coming,’ Julie yawned, threw off the bedclothes. ‘It’s not nine yet.’

‘I’ve got a lot to do this morning,’ Harry said, and disappeared into the bathroom.

She went into the kitchen and put on the kettle.

‘It’s a funny thing,’ she thought, ‘but it seems as if he’s always been here; as if this has always been part of my life. But I do wish he wouldn’t be so evasive.’

They had talked during the night, and Julie had tried to find out something about his everyday life, what he thought, what he did with himself, but she came up against a flippant barrier that turned anything serious into a joke.

Harry was dressed when she returned with the tea.

‘Harry... those rings. I’ve been worrying. You can’t get away with that kind of thing for long. You know that.’

He took the cup of tea she gave him and laughed.

‘For goodness’ sake don’t start worrying about me. You worry about yourself if you have to worry at all.’

‘But I do worry about you.’

‘Now look; I have only a few years on this earth — another forty with luck,’ he said. ‘What’s forty years? Nothing, and then — the worms, the dark and the cold. All right then, I’m going to enjoy myself while I can. I can’t do that without money. Money’s power; it’s fun, food and drink, cigarettes and love. Money’s a motor car, petrol, clothes and shoes. It’s a night out at the White City dog track; it’s a game of poker and a seat at the theatre. It’s everything you can think of. I’ve tried working for a living, but it didn’t come off. I’ve been in the war. I’ve done my little bit, and now I’m going to have a good time. I don’t care how I get hold of money so long as I get it. I help myself. That’s all there’s to it.’

‘But what’s the good of it all if you spend ten years in jail?’ Julie demanded, hoping he could give her a satisfactory answer, since his philosophy matched hers.

‘You have to be smart. I’ve kept out of jail for three years and I’m keeping out of it.’

‘If it hadn’t been for me you would have been in jail by now,’ she reminded him.

‘Don’t you believe it. There’s always someone around. You’d be surprised. If you hadn’t taken those rings I’d’ve got rid of them some other way. It’s happened before.’

This annoyed and hurt Julie. She wanted to think she had saved him from prison at a considerable risk to herself.

‘And do you always make love to the woman who’s helped you? Is that your idea of a reward?’ she asked tartly.

‘You’re a funny kid.’ He laughed at her. ‘I’m fussy who I make love to. You’ll find that out one of these days.’

She had never suffered from jealousy before, but now the thought of any other woman knowing him as intimately as she did tormented her.

‘Harry... who’s that woman, Dana, who rang you?’

‘My mother,’ he said promptly, stretched out his legs. ‘She’s a wonderful old thing: lavender and old lace, or is it arsenic? Anyway, you’d love her.’

‘I’m not going to be treated like this,’ Julie exclaimed, stamping her feet. ‘You’ve got to stop this silly pose with me. Who is she? I want to know.’

He pulled a face, then laughed again.

‘Don’t bully me, Julie. She’s just a girl I know. Nothing to get excited about. She isn’t half as pretty as you, and she means nothing to me.’

‘How did she know the police were looking for you?’

‘She’s clairvoyant. Saw old Dawson in the tea leaves.’

‘Are you going to stop playing the fool and tell me or aren’t you?’ Julie demanded, thoroughly angry now.

‘Mind your own business,’ he said, and smiled at her, but she was quick to see the sudden hard look in his eyes.

There was a long pause while they looked at each other. Julie’s eyes were the first to give ground. She could see it was useless to press him and she decided to change her tactics.

‘All right, don’t tell me if you want to make a mystery of it,’ she said, trying to sound indifferent. ‘Have some more tea?’

He handed her his cup, lit another cigarette and yawned. ‘I’ll have to be off in a moment,’ he said, glancing at his watch.

She felt uneasy again. He could walk out of her flat and she might never see him again.

‘Where do you live, Harry?’ she asked, as she poured out the tea.

‘Ten Downing Street. I have a little flat on the top floor. It’s pretty cosy because I share the Prime Minister’s butler.’

It was no use, she decided, alarmed and angry. Under his flippant pose was a mercurial character that refused to be pinned down. She mustn’t be too possessive. Later, perhaps, when they knew each other better, she might gain his confidence.

She said lightly: ‘Are you ever serious?’

‘What do I want to be serious for? Eat, drink and make money and love for to-morrow the worms will have you. I haven’t time to be serious. Having fun is a full-time job.’

‘So I’m not even to know where you live?’ (‘The woman’s living with him,’ she thought. ‘That’s why he won’t tell me.’)

‘At times you positively shine, Julie.’

‘All right, be mysterious,’ she said crossly, and turned away.

‘The less you know about me the better,’ he returned, and picked up his coat. ‘Well, I’m off. How about that job, Julie?’

‘Well, all right,’ she said reluctantly. ‘I suppose I’d better do it. All I have to do is to be a maid; nothing else?’

He grinned.

‘That’s all. Of course, you’ll keep your eyes open.’

She knew at once then that she was to be the inside plant for a robbery. For a moment she hesitated, and Harry, seeing her hesitate, took out two five-pound notes.

‘I promised you something in advance. Here, put those in your pocket.’

She hesitated no longer. What she didn’t know about she couldn’t get into trouble about. She could look after herself. She took the money.

‘What do I do?’

‘Here.’ He handed her a card. ‘Go to this address. Ask for Mrs. French and tell her I sent you. She knows all about it and will tell you what to do. O.K.?’

‘And there’s no risk? I mean I shan’t get into trouble?’

‘Not a chance,’ he returned breezily. ‘All you have to do is to act like a maid. Simple, isn’t it?’

‘And keep my eyes open,’ she said, watching him.

He grinned.

‘That’s the idea. Well, so long, Julie.’

‘When am I going to see you again?’

‘Soon. I’ve got a lot of things on at the moment. I’ll get in touch with you.’

‘Just like a man. Get what you want, then cool off,’ Julie said angrily.