William Maugham - Theatre

‘This couldn’t happen to one in the streets of Paris, Rome or Berlin,’ she reflected.

She decided to go as far as the Marylebone Road, and then turn back. It would be too humiliating to go home without being once accosted. She was walking so slowly that passers-by sometimes jostled her. This irritated her.

‘I ought to have tried Oxford Street,’ she said. ‘That fool Evie. The Edgware Road’s obviously a wash-out.’

Suddenly her heart gave an exultant leap. She had caught a young man’s eye and she was sure that there was a gleam in it. He passed, and she had all she could do not to turn round. She started, for in a moment he passed her again, he had retraced his steps, and this time he gave her a stare. She shot him a glance and then modestly lowered her eyes. He fell back and she was conscious that he was following her. It was all right. She stopped to look into a shop window and he stopped too. She knew how to behave now. She pretended to be absorbed in the goods that were displayed, but just before she moved on gave him a quick flash of her faintly-smiling eyes. He was rather short, he looked like a clerk or a shop-walker, he wore a grey suit and a brown soft hat. He was not the man she would have chosen to be picked up by, but there it was, he was evidently trying to pick her up. She forgot that she was beginning to feel tired. She did not know what would happen next. Of course she wasn’t going to let the thing go too far, but she was curious to see what his next step would be. She wondered what he would say to her. She was excited and pleased; it was a weight off her mind. She walked on slowly and she knew he was close behind her. She stopped at another shop window, and this time when he stopped he was close beside her. Her heart began to beat wildly. It was really beginning to look like an adventure.

‘I wonder if he’ll ask me to go to a hotel with him. I don’t suppose he could afford that. A cinema. That’s it. It would be rather fun.’

She looked him full in the face now and very nearly smiled. He took off his hat.

‘Miss Lambert, isn’t it?’

She almost jumped out of her skin. She was indeed so taken aback that she had not the presence of mind to deny it.

‘I thought I recognized you the moment I saw you, that’s why I turned back, to make sure, see, and I said to meself, if that’s not Julia Lambert I’m Ramsay Macdonald. Then you stopped to look in that shop window and that give me the chance to ’ave a good look at you. What made me ’esitate was seeing you in the Edgware Road. It seems so funny, if you know what I mean.’

It was much funnier than he imagined. Anyhow it didn’t matter if he knew who she was. She ought to have guessed that she couldn’t go far in London without being recognized. He had a cockney accent and a pasty face, but she gave him a jolly, friendly smile. He mustn’t think she was putting on airs.

‘Excuse me talking to you, not ’aving been introduced and all that, but I couldn’t miss the opportunity. Will you oblige me with your autograph?’

Julia caught her breath. It couldn’t be that this was why he had followed her for ten minutes. He must have thought that up as an excuse for speaking to her. Well, she would play up.

‘I shall be delighted. But I can’t very well give it you in the street. People would stare so.’

‘That’s right. Look here, I was just going along to ’ave my tea. There’s a Lyons at the next corner. Why don’t you come in and ’ave a cup too?’

She was getting on. When they’d had tea he’d probably suggest going to the pictures.

‘All right,’ she said.

They walked along till they came to the shop and took their places at a small table.

‘Two teas, please, miss,’ he ordered. ‘Anything to eat?’ And when Julia declined: ‘Scone and butter for one, miss.’

Julia was able now to have a good look at him. Though stocky and short he had good features, his black hair was plastered down on his head and he had fine eyes, but his teeth were poor and his pale skin gave him an unhealthy look. There was a sort of impudence in his manner that Julia did not much like, but then, as she sensibly reflected, you could hardly expect the modesty of the violet in a young man who picked you up in the Edgware Road.

‘Before we go any further let’s ’ave this autograph, eh? Do it now, that’s my motto.’

He took a fountain pen from his pocket and from a bulging pocket-book a large card.

‘One of our trade cards,’ he said. ‘That’ll do O.K.’

Julia thought it silly to carry the subterfuge to this length, but she good-humouredly signed her name on the back of the card.

‘Do you collect autographs?’ she asked him with a subtle smile.

‘Me? Noa. I think it’s a lot of tommy rot. My young lady does. She’s got Charlie Chaplin and Douglas Fairbanks and I don’t know what all. Show you ’er photo if you like.’

From his pocket-book he extracted a snapshot of a rather pert-looking young woman showing all her teeth in a cinema smile.

‘Pretty,’ said Julia.

‘And how. We’re going to the pictures tonight. She will be surprised when I give her your autograph. The first thing I said to meself when I knew it was you was, I’ll get Julia Lambert’s autograph for Gwen or die in the attempt. We’re going to get married in August, when I ’ave my ’oliday, you know; we’re going to the Isle of Wight for the ’oneymoon. I shall ’ave a rare lot of fun with ’er over this. She won’t believe me when I tell her you an’ me ’ad tea together, she’ll think I’m kidding, and then I’ll show ’er the autograph, see?’

Julia listened to him politely, but the smile had left her face.

‘I’m afraid I shall have to go in a minute,’ she said. ‘I’m late already.’

‘I ’aven’t got too much time meself. You see, meeting my young lady, I want to get away from the shop on the tick.’

The check had been put on the table when the girl brought their tea, and when they got up Julia took a shilling out of her bag.

‘What are you doing that for? You don’t think I’m going to let you pay. I invited you.’

‘That’s very kind of you.’

‘But I’ll tell you what you can do, let me bring my young lady to see you in your dressing-room one day. Just shake ’ands with her, see? It would mean a rare lot to her. Why, she’d go on talking about it the rest of her life.’

Julia’s manner had been for some minutes growing stiffer and now, though gracious still, it was almost haughty.

‘I’m so sorry, but we never allow strangers behind.’

‘Oh, sorry. You don’t mind my asking though, do you? I mean, it’s not as if it was for meself.’

‘Not at all. I quite understand.’

She signalled to a cab crawling along the kerb and gave her hand to the young man.

‘Good-bye, Miss Lambert. So long, good luck and all that sort of thing. And thanks for the autograph.’

Julia sat in the corner of the taxi raging.

‘Vulgar little beast. Him and his young lady. The nerve of asking if he could bring her to see ME.’

When she got home she went upstairs to her room. She snatched her hat off her head and flung it angrily on the bed. She strode over to the looking-glass and stared at herself.

‘Old, old, old,’ she muttered. ‘There are no two ways about it; I’m entirely devoid of sex appeal. You wouldn’t believe it, would you? You’d say it was preposterous. What other explanation is there? I walk from one end of the Edgware Road to the other and God knows I’d dressed the part perfectly, and not a man pays the smallest attention to me except a bloody little shop-assistant who wants my autograph for his young lady. It’s absurd. A lot of sexless bastards. I don’t know what’s coming to the English. The British Empire!’