Джеймс Кейн - Mildred Pierce

Mildred wrote a check for $125, mainly for “services.” Mr. Simons put a card in her hand, with an address on it. “That’s a dude ranch near Winslow, Ariz. The young man is using his right name, and I don’t think you’ll have any trouble locating him.”

Driving back, they stared at one of Mr. Simons’s fliers, bearing the weak, handsome face of the boy they had chosen for a son-in-law. Then, nervously, they discussed what was to be done, and came to the conclusion, in Bert’s phrase, that they had to “go through with it.” When Mildred dropped him off, they agreed that the time had come to get action out of Wally, and rather grimly Mildred drove home. Going to the kitchen, she sent Letty on another protracted errand. Then, when the girl had gone, she hurried into the den and called Wally. Shrilly, she told what she had done, and read him the address furnished by Mr. Simons. He said hey wait a minute, till he got a pencil. Then he made her repeat the address slowly, and then said: “Swell. Say, that’s a help. It’s a good thing to have, just in case.”

“What do you mean, in case?”

“In case they get tough.”

“Aren’t you calling the sheriffs office?”

“No use going off half-cocked. We’ve got them right where we want them, and as I said before, our play is to make them come to us. Just let it ride, and—”

“Wally, I want that boy arrested.”

“Mildred, why don’t you let me—”

Mildred slammed up the receiver and jumped up, her eyes blazing, her hat slightly askew. When she turned to dash out, Veda was at the door. At once she launched into a denunciation of Wally. “That man’s not even trying to do anything. I’ve told him where that boy is. I had a detective find out — and still he does nothing. Well that’s the last he’ll hear from me! I’m going over to the sheriff’s office myself!”

Quivering with her high, virtuous resolve, Mildred charged for the door. She collided with Veda, who seemed to have moved to block her path. Then her wrist was caught in a grip like steel, and slowly, mercilessly, she was forced back, until she plunged down on the sofa. “You’ll do nothing of the kind.”

“Let go of me! What are you pushing me for? What do you mean I’ll do nothing of the kind?”

“If you go to the sheriffs office, they’ll bring young Mr. Forrester back. And if they bring him back, he’ll want to marry me, and that doesn’t happen to suit me. It may interest you to know that he’s been back. He sneaked into town, twice, and a beautiful time I had of it, getting him to be a nice boy and stay where Mamma put him. He’s quite crazy about me. I saw to that. But as for matrimony, I beg to be excused. I’d much rather have the money.”

Mildred took off her hat, and stared at the cold, beautiful creature who had sat down opposite her, and who was now yawning as though the whole subject were a bit of a bore. The events of the last few days began ticking themselves off in her mind, particularly the strange relationship that had sprung up, between Veda and Wally. The squint appeared, and her face grew hard. “Now I know what that woman meant by blackmail. You’re just trying to shake her down, shake the whole family down, for money. You’re not pregnant, at all.”

“Mother, at this stage it’s a matter of opinion, and in my opinion, I am.”

Veda’s eyes glinted as she spoke, and Mildred wanted to back down, to avoid one of those scenes from which she always emerged beaten, humiliated, and hurt. But something was swelling within her, something that began in the sick jealously of a few nights before, something that felt as though it might presently choke her. Her voice shook as she spoke. “How could you do such a thing? If you had loved the boy, I wouldn’t have a word to say. So long as I thought you had loved him, I didn’t have a word to say, not one word to blame you. To love is a woman’s right, and when you do, I hope you give everything you have, brimming over. But just to pretend you loved him to lead him on, to get money out of him — how could you do it?”

“Merely following in my mother’s footsteps.”

“What did you say?”

“Oh, stop being so tiresome. There’s the date of your wedding, and there’s the date of my birth. Figure it out for yourself. The only difference is that you were a little younger at that time than I am now — a month or two anyway. I suppose it runs in families.”

“Why do you think I married your father?”

“I rather imagine he married you. If you mean why you got yourself knocked up, I suppose you did it for the same reason I did — for the money.”

“What money?”

“Mother, in another minute I’ll be getting annoyed. Of course he has no money now, but at the time he was quite rich, and I’m sure you knew it. When the money was gone you kicked him out. And when you divorced him, and he was so down and out that the Biederhof had to keep him, you quite generously stripped him of the only thing he had left, meaning this lovely, incomparable, palatial hovel that we live in.”

“That was his idea, not mine. He wanted to do his share, to contribute something for you and Ray. And it was all covered with mortgages, that he couldn’t even have paid the interest on, let alone—”

“At any rate, you took it.”

By now, Mildred had sensed that Veda’s boredom was pure affectation. Actually she was enjoying the unhappiness she inflicted, and had probably rehearsed her main points in advance. This, ordinarily, would have been enough to make Mildred back down, seek a reconciliation, but this feeling within kept goading her. After trying to keep quiet, she lashed out: “But why? Why — will you tell me that? Don’t I give you everything that money can buy? Is there one single thing I ever denied you? If there was something you wanted, couldn’t you have come to me for it, instead of resorting to — blackmail. Because that woman was right! That’s all it is! Blackmail! Blackmail! Blackmail!”

In the silence that followed, Mildred felt first frightened, then coldly brave, as the feeling within drove her on. Veda puffed her cigarette, reflected, and asked: “Are you sure you want to know?”

“I dare you to tell me!”

“Well, since you ask, with enough money, I can get away from you, you poor, half-witted mope. From you, and your pie wagon, and your chickens, and your waffles, and your kitchens, and everything that smells of grease. And from this shack, that you blackmailed out of my father with your threats about the Biederhof, and its neat little two-car garage, and its lousy furniture. And from Glendale, and its dollar days, and its furniture factories, and its women that wear uniforms and its men that wear smocks. From every rotten, stinking thing that even reminds me of the place — or you.”

“I see.”

Mildred got up and put on her hat. “Well it’s a good thing I found out what you were up to, when I did. Because I can tell you right now, if you had gone through with this, or even tried to go through with it, you’d have been out of here a little sooner than you expected.”

She headed for the door, but Veda was there first. Mildred laughed, and tore up the card Mr. Simons had given her. “Oh you needn’t worry that I’ll go to the sheriff’s office now. It’ll be a long time before they find out from me where the boy is hiding, or you do either.”

Again she started for the door, but Veda didn’t move. Mildred backed off and sat down. If Veda thought she would break, she was mistaken. Mildred sat motionless, her face hard, cold, and implacable. After a long time the silence was shattered by the phone. Veda jumped for it. After four or five brief, cryptic monosyllables, she hung up, turned to Mildred with a malicious smile. “That was Wally. You may be interested to know that they’re ready to settle.”