Dodie Smith - I Capture the Castle

something of value." But I didn't have anything of value; no watch or jewelry, my bag was almost worn out, I hadn't even a coat or hat--for a wild minute I wondered if I could leave my shoes.

"But he'll see you're a respectable person--he'll trust you." I tried to reassure myself--and then I began to wonder if I looked a

respectable person. My hair was untidy, my green dress was bright and cheap compared with London clothes, and Heloise needing its belt didn't improve matters.

"But they can't send for the police just for a pot of tea and one cutlet," I told myself. And then it dawned on me that it wasn't only for my bill that I needed money--how was I to get to the station

without a taxi his I couldn't walk Heloise all those miles, even if I could manage them myself.

And my railway ticket-That was in the purse, too.

"I've got to get help," I thought, desperately.

But how his There were call-boxes in the front part of the restaurant, but apart from feeling I would rather die than telephone the flat, I

knew it would involve Rose in impossible explanations. Then I suddenly remembered Stephen's message that he was always at my service--but

could I bring myself to wake the Fox-Cottons up at nearly two in the

morning? I was still arguing with myself when waitress came back and

looked at me very pointedly, so I felt I had to do something.

I got up, leaving my bill lying on the table.

"I'm waiting for someone who's late--I'll have to telephone," I said.

"Will you keep this place for me ?"

Heloise hated being wakened, but I didn't dare leave her at the table; mercifully, she was too sleepy to do any barking. I explained at the

pay-desk that I was going to telephone--I noticed the girl watching to see that I did go into a call-box. It was awfully hot inside,

particularly with Heloise slumped against me like a fur-covered

furnace. I opened the book to find the Fox-Cottons" number -And then I remembered. You need pennies to telephone from a public call-box.

"You'll laugh at this one day," I told myself, "you'll laugh like anything." And then I leaned against the call-box wall and began to cry--but I soon stopped when I remembered that my handkerchief was in Rose's evening bag. I stared at the box you put the pennies in and

thought how willingly I would rob it, if I knew how.

"Oh, please, God--do something!" I said in my heart.

Then a person who didn't seem to be me put my hand up very quickly and pressed Button B. When the pennies came out, my inner voice said: "I knew they would."

And then, in memory, I heard the Vicar talking of prayer, faith and the slot machine.

Can faith work backwards his Could the fact that I was going to pray

have made someone forget to take their pennies back? And if it was

really prayer that did it, couldn't Button B have saved me from

troubling Stephen by giving me a pound?

"Though, of course, it would have had to be in pennies," I thought.

I prayed again, then pressed the button, wondering how I could cope

with a shower of two hundred and forty pennies--but I needn't have

worried. So I got on with telephoning the Fox-Cottons.

Leda answered--sooner than I had expected.

She sounded furious. I told her I was dreadfully sorry to disturb her but that I simply couldn't help it. Then I asked her to get Stephen.

She said: "Certainly not. You can't talk to him now."

"But I've got to," I told her.

"And I know he won't mind if you wake him- he'd want you to, if he knew I was in difficulties."

"You can stay in difficulties until tomorrow morning," she said.

"I won't let you bother Stephen now.

It's disgusting the way "

She broke off, and for an awful second I thought she had hung up the

receiver. Then I heard voices, though I couldn't distinguish any

words- until she suddenly yelled out:

"Don't you dare do that!"

Then she gave a shrill little squawk- and the next second, Stephen was speaking to me.

"What's happened, what's wrong?" he cried.

I told him as quickly as I could--leaving out the quarrel with Rose, of course. I said I had meant to go home by a late train.

"But there isn't any late train his "Yes, there is," I said quickly,

"there's one you didn't know about.

Oh, I'll explain it all later. All that matters now is that I'm

stranded here and if you don't come along quickly I shall get

arrested."

"I'll start at once was he sounded terribly upset.

"Don't be frightened. Go back to your table and order something else

--that will stop them suspecting you. And don't let any men talk to

you-or any women either, especially hospital nurses."

"All right--but do be as quick as you can."

Afterwards, I wished I hadn't said that about being arrested, because I knew he would believe it- as I never quite had done myself.

But being stranded like that in a London restaurant can be very

panic-striking, particularly in the middle of the night, and I did want to make sure he would come. I was wringing wet when I hung the

receiver up. I had to roll Heloise off my feet and simply drag her

back to my table. Her eyes were just two pink slits. She was

practically sleepwalking.

I told the waitress my friend would arrive very soon, and ordered a

chocolate ice-cream soda. Then I sat back and just wallowed in

relief--it was so great that I forgot how unhappy I was and began to

take an interest in my surroundings. There were some people at a

near-by table who were connected with a new play--one of them was the author--and they were waiting for the morning papers with the notices of it to come out. It was funny how nice and interesting almost

everyone looked once my panic was over--before, there had been just a sea of noisy faces. While I was having my ice-cream soda (it was

glorious), a hospital nurse came in and sat at the very next table. I almost choked through my straw--because knew what poor Stephen had been driving at.

Miss Marcy had a story that fake nurses rush about drugging girls and shipping them to the Argentine to be what she calls, "Well-daughters of joy, dear." But as I picture the Argentine, it has plenty of its own joyful daughters.

Stephen didn't arrive until after three o'clock-he said he'd had to

walk nearly a mile before finding a taxi. He had an odd, strained

look, which I put down to his having been so frightened about me.

I made him have a long, cold lemonade.

"Did you snatch the telephone from Leda?" I asked.

"It sounded like that. What luck for me that you overheard her

talking! Is their telephone on the upstairs landing or something?"

"There's one in the studio--we were in there," he said.

"Do you mean she was still photographing you?"

He said no, it was the other studio--"The one where the big photographs are. We were just sitting talking."

"What, till two in the morning?" Then I saw that he was avoiding my eyes, and went on quickly: "Well, tell me about your interview with the film people."

He told me, but hardly a word of it sank in-I was too busy picturing

him in the studio with Leda. I was sure she had been making love to

him. I imagined them sitting on the divan with only one dim light

burning, and the great naked Negro looking down.

The thought was horrible, yet fascinating.

I came back to earth as Stephen was saying:

"I'll take you home and pack up my clothes--though Leda says I shall have to buy some better ones. And I'll see Mr.

Stebbins. He said he wouldn't stand in the way of my career."

"Career" sounded a funny word for Stephen.

"What will Ivy say ?" I asked.

"Oh, Ivy-was he seemed to be remembering her from a long way back.