Hungry Hill (47 page)

There was a shout of laughter as she threw her muff and her gloves at the croupier’s head. A man in uniform came to her, and seized her arm.

“Let me go,” she cried; “how dare you touch me?”

The shiny velvet cape, the cloud of white hair, the arrogant tilt of the head, all were familiar. As the commissionaire thrust Fanny-Rosa forward she stumbled, scattering her bag, her chips, her few coins on the ground in front of her.

“You clumsy fool,” she shouted. “What the devil do you think you’re doing?”

And she came face to face with her son.

For a moment they stood staring at one another. Then Henry turned to the commissionaire.

“This lady is my mother,” he said. “I will be responsible for her.”

The man let go of Fanny-Rosa’s arm. The crowd around the table was whispering and staring. The croupier shrugged his shoulders, and set the ball in action again.

“Faites vos jeux.” The game went on.

Henry bent down and picked up the bag and the coins from the floor, and gave them to his mother.

“It’s all right,” he said quietly, “don’t worry. Mrs. Price and I are going to take you home.”

She did not seem to realise what had happened.

“But I don’t want to go home yet,” she said, glancing from one to the other. “I haven’t tried my luck at the other tables. It will be different if we go into another room.”

“No,” said Henry, “it’s getting late. And I’ve had a long journey today. I want my bed.”

He took his mother’s arm and began walking towards the door. She kept looking back over her shoulder towards the table.

“I always detest that particular croupier,” she said. “I’m sure he has a secret understanding with the management, and they have some means of controlling the ball. I wish you’d write to the papers about it, Henry. You’re so clever, you would know what to say.”

She never ceased talking all the way to the casino steps, abusing the management, telling Henry and Mrs. Price that she was certain the casino staff had been given their orders to prevent her winning.

They were so afraid that once her luck was in she would break the bank.

“It’s nearly happened several times,” she said, as they drove away in tile fiacre. “I’ve had the most amazing run of luck, simply couldn’t make a mistake, and then suddenly the whole thing would go against me. Of course it’s done deliberately.

They are terrified of anyone making a big win. But I’m determined to beat them. It’s a matter of principle. Henry darling, how lovely to see you!

So stupid of me to forget the time of your train. I hope you found everything all right? I hadn’t realised you knew Mrs. Price. We must all three go to the casino tomorrow and try our luck. Mrs. Price has a lucky face, I expect we shall make a fortune.”

She rattled on, asking questions and never waiting for a reply.

Henry stared out of the window, holding his mother’s hand.

Mrs. Price did not say anything. He knew now in bitterness and sorrow the story of the last ten years. He could see the life that had been hers, the pretended gaiety, the shabby flag of courage she had flaunted. And day by day, month by month, year by year, this thing taking its hold upon her, so that now she was possessed body and soul, mind and reason gone, nothing remaining but a queer patchwork of memories that served no purpose but to distract her more. Whose fault? Why had it happened? Who was to blame?

No answer came to him, and his heart was torn with pity and anguish. The fiacre drew up in front of the villa. Fanny-Rosa fumbled with the gate. The dogs set up their barking from inside the house.

“All right, sweets,” called Fanny-Rosa, “mother is coming, and your brother Henry too.”

She began to walk up the garden-path. Henry turned to Adeline Price.

“I’m so sorry,” he began, “so terribly sorry… .?

“Oh, please don’t apologise,” she said; “much more of a shock for you than for me. If there’s anything I can do in the morning don’t hesitate to come round. Personally, I feel the right thing to do would be to get her into a Home. She’d be well looked after, you know. What I mean to say is, she can’t very well go on like this, can she?”

“No,” said Henry, “no.”

“Well, you’d better go to bed and get a good night’s rest, and think it over in the morning.

Anyway, I enjoyed our dinner. Goodnight.”

She turned away to her own villa. Henry walked slowly up the path. He found Fanny-Rosa kneeling on the floor, playing with the dogs.

“Did the silly boys miss their old mother then?” she was saying “But mother left a nicey dins for the boys, and the dins has been taken away. That damn fool of a servant, I suppose. And I always tell her not to tidy the sitting-room. Henry Iamb, you look worried. Is anything the matter?”

“No, darling, but I want you to go to bed.”

“I’m going. I always have to kiss the boys goodnight, though. Did the servant make up your bed ? I laid out the clean sheets, but I have a frightful feeling I forgot to air them.”

“Yes, everything was all right.”

She stood in the doorway of her room. Mrs.

Price’s maid had swept and tidied here, as well as downstairs. The clothes were put away, the bed was turned back neatly. His mother did not seem to notice that anything had been done. She was staring in front of her, biting the end of her nail. Henry wondered if some flash of memory had come to disturb her wandering mind, she looked suddenly so lost and strange. He put his arms round her, and held her close.

“Mother darling,” he said, “will you tell me what’s the matter?”

She smiled up at him, and patted his cheek.

“Dear Henry,” she said, “always so thoughtful about everyone. No, I was just thinking what an extraordinary thing it was that not once this evening did the nine come up. But not once. And I backed it every time.”

He sat in Adeline Price’s drawing-room, turning over the pages of a magazine from India. The pictures conveyed nothing and the words even less. He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. Surely she should be back by now?

The appointment was for three o’clock. He got up and began walking about the room. The maid came in and laid the tea. Fresh-cut bread and butter.

Water-cress. Home-made scones. A new pot of the guava jelly. And last of all the shining silver kettle. He heard a fiacre drive along the road. He glanced out of the window, and saw Adeline Price step out and pay the driver. The tip she gave him was not enough, apparently, for he began to grumble.

“It’s all you’re going to have, my good man,” she said cheerfully. “Don’t you try to work that sort of game on me. You’ve met your match.”

She waved her hand to Henry, and hurried up the garden-path.

“They’re all the same,” she said; “they think we’re made of money because we’re English. Is tea in?”

“Yes,” he said.

She came into the room, peeling off her gloves.

She was dressed in grey, simple and yet striking.

She looked very handsome.

“Well, it’s all most satisfactory,” she said; “the doctor was an extremely nice man, and understood the situation perfectly. Of course he’s had dozens of these cases through his hands. There’s no cure, he said. Especially in someone your mother’s age. He agreed that you are doing absolutely the right thing.”

She lit a match and put it to the wick. The kettle began to simmer. Adeline Price reached for a piece of bread-and-butter, frowning at the water-cress.

“Why did she bring that?” she said. “She knows I don’t touch it. It’s never safe in France. You mustn’t have any either. These girls need watching all the time.”

“Go on about the place. What was it like?” said Henry.

“Oh, very nice. A large garden, with flowers and trees. I saw some of the people sitting about. And I chose a most comfortable room for her, as you said no expense was to be spared. It was twenty francs more than the rest, but I suppose you don’t mind that?”

“God, no.”

“Of course they won’t let her mess it up as she did her room in the villa,” said Mrs.

Price. “They have to have certain rules, and that is one of them. You can’t blame them. The place was so beautifully clean and tidy, you could eat your food off the floor. The nurses wear a nice green uniform, which gives a very bright effect. I was introduced to the one who is in charge of your mother’s room. A sensible creature, with a nice expression.”

“Did she seem to understand-why my mother was going?”

“Oh, yes. And one thing which is rather clever in a way is that she will be allowed to play roulette, if she wants to. They have a room for that sort of thing.

Only of course it will all be pretence, no money or anything. She won’t know. These modern methods are very ingenious.”

Henry got up from his chair, and wandered once more to the window.

“Don’t you want your tea?” she said.

“How can one tell that she won’t know?” he said.

“It’s not as though she is completely insane. She will know that the thing is a blind. And that she’s shut up there, in a glorified prison.”

Mrs. Price was pouring out the tea.

“She’ll be told the place is a hotel,” she said, “a kind of annexe of the casino. It’s quite all right. I arranged it all with the doctor. He is going to say that you were worried about her being all alone at the villa, and have arranged for her to go there instead.

He says she will settle down as happily as anything, after a few days.”

Henry picked up a book restlessly, and threw it down again.

“If only I could be certain I’m doing the right thing,” he said. “She seemed happy enough in that little villa, even if it was dirty and unattractive.

And I don’t grudge her the money she lost at the casino. If it kept her happy, if it kept her from thinking…”

Adeline Price blew out the flame from underneath the kettle.

“Of course if that’s your attitude, there’s no sense in sending her there,” she said; “but after what you have been through the last ten days I should have thought you would have learnt reason. Do you want them to throw her out of the casino, as they did five days ago ? And then, she’s not responsible for what she says. Those awful lies. She told you she was going to bed last Tuesday, and we found she had gone down there again.

Of course if you want her to end in the police-court that’s your affair. Because that’s how it will end, I don’t mind telling you.”

Henry flung himself down in the chair once more.

“You’re right.” he said, “I know you’re right. And yet it hurts so terribly to do this thing. Oh God, my mother. She was so lovely, so amusing, such a darling. I can’t begin to explain what I feel.”

Adeline Price poured out his tea.

“Come on,” she said, “have a cup of tea. Nothing like a cup of tea to make a person feel better, man or woman. I can assure you that your mother will be perfectly happy in this place. She’ll make friends, and chatter about the past, and you can go home with the knowledge that she is in good hands and that everything possible is being done for her. Oh, they asked me if you wanted her to have a little wine in the evenings. Apparently that’s an extra, and so is a fire in the bedroom on cold nights. I said I would let them know. They’ll send you an account of course every month, or you can pay direct through your bank. That would save you a lot of bother.”

She spread some of the guava jelly on to her bread-and-butter.

“You’ve taken so much trouble over all this,” said Henry, watching her. “I tell you frankly, I don’t know what I should have done without your help. The whole thing has been a nightmare.”

Adeline Price smiled.

“Men are helpless creatures in a crisis,” she said. “My husband was just the same. Unable to cope with an emergency. Directly I saw you struggling with the front door of the villa the day you arrived I could tell the sort of person you were.

I’m glad I happened to be looking out of my window. But it rather beats me how you’ve struggled along these last few years without anyone to look after you.”

“I don’t know,” said Henry. “I suppose I drifted. All I know is that I felt damned lonely.”

“I’ve been lonely too,” she said, “but in a different sort of way. And anyway I always found plenty to do. I’ve never been one of those people to mope, thank goodness. I always think it shows such a lack of character.” She collected the tea-things on the tray, and rang the bell for the maid. “Now I hope you don’t think I’ve taken too much on my shoulders,” she said, “but the doctor agreed with me that the sooner we got your mother moved into the Home the better. I quite realise it’s a painful business for you to face, so I’m perfectly willing to take her there myself. I’m more or less a stranger, so there will be no emotional complication. So, if you agree, I’ll go across to the villa now, help her with the few odds and ends she will want with her there, and take her along in a fiacre. I can explain about the hotel idea, the annexe of the casino, and you will see I shall have no fuss with her at all. I shall say you had to go out, but will go round and see if she’s comfortable in the morning.

Don’t you think that’s the best way of arranging it all?”

She smiled at him again, capable, efficient, and he was aware of a sense of helplessness, of utter dependence upon her judgement.

“I don’t know,” he said in despair; “I seem to have lost grip. I can’t make a decision without questioning it five seconds later.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, “leave it to me. And I suggest you go along now and order dinner at the restaurant. I’ll join you there after I’ve taken her to the Home. It will take your mind off this business.”

She gave him his hat and his stick and pushed him out of the room.

“You’re as bad as a child,” she said; “I don’t believe you trust me at all.”

“I do trust you,” he protested, “I have implicit faith in everything you do.”

“Go on then,” she said, “and don’t look so crushed.”

He walked along the road mechanically, and down the twisting streets and avenues to the sea-front. It was like a dream, the houses were phantom things, the people were shadows. Nice was a city that he did not know, alien and unfriendly. It seemed to him that this shock of his mother’s weakness had shown to him, in ugliness and force, that his own life was also without foundation. There was no security any more. Nothing was sure or solid.