Tipping the Velvet (34 page)

up the stairs, and I followed.

'But I shall come back and visit,' I said reasonably. 'And

'The thing is, Mrs Milne,' I began, 'this friend of mine, she's Grace -' I swallowed as I said it, for I knew there would in a bit of a state. You see her room-mate up and moved out never be a welcome for Gracie in the stillness and richness last week' - Mrs Milne checked slightly, then stepped and elegance of Diana's villa - 'Grace can come and visit steadily on - 'and she can't replace her; and she can't afford me. It won't be so bad.'

all the rent herself, she has only a little part-time work in a

'Is it the money, Nance?' she said then. 'I know you ain't got much -'

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'No, of course it ain't the money,' I said. 'Indeed -' I had was in my own room again, with the door closed hard remembered the coin in my pocket: a pound, placed there behind me.

by Diana's own fingers. It more than covered the rent I The little bits and pieces I owned, of course, could be owed, and the fortnight's warning I should have given. I bundled together in a second, in my sailor's bag, and a held it out to her; but when she only gazed bleakly at it and carpet-bag that Mrs Milne had once given me. My made no move to take it, I stepped awkwardly to the bedclothes I folded and placed neatly at the end of the mantelpiece and laid it softly there.

mattress, and the rug I shook out at the open window; the There was a silence, broken only by Mrs Milne's sighs. I few little pictures I had pinned to the wall I took down, and coughed. 'Well,' I said, 'I had better go and get my things burned in the grate. My toilet articles - a cake of cracked together. . .'

yellow soap, a half-used jar of tooth-powder, a tub of face-

'What! You ain't leaving us today! Not so soon?"

cream scented with violet - I scooped into the bin. I kept

'I did promise my friend I would,' I said, trying to suggest only my toothbrush, and my hair-oil; these, together with an by my tone that my friend might have all the blame for it.

unopened tin of cigarettes and a slab of chocolate, I added

'But you'll stay for a bit of tea, at least?'

to the carpet-bag - though, after a second's hesitation, I took The thought of the dreary tea-party we would make, with the chocolate out again, and left it on the mantel, where I Mrs Milne so ashen and disappointed, and Gracie in all hoped Grace would find it. In half an hour the room looked probability in tears, or worse, filled me with dismay. I bit quite as it had when I had first moved in. There was nothing my lip.

at all to mark my stay there save the cluster of pin-holes in

'I'd better not,' I said.

the wallpaper where my pictures had been tacked, and a Mrs Milne straightened, and her mouth grew small. She scorch-mark on the bedside cabinet where once, slumbering shook her head slowly. 'This will break my poor girl's over a magazine, I had let a candle fall. The thought seemed heart.'

a miserable one; but I would not grow sad. I didn't go to the There was a flintiness to her tone that was more frightening, window, for a last sentimental look at the view from it. I more shaming, than her sadness had been; but I found didn't check the drawers, or go poking under the bed, or myself, again, vaguely piqued. I had opened my mouth to pull the cushions from the chair. If I had left anything utter some dreadful pleasantry when there came a scuffling behind I knew that Diana would replace it with something at the door, and Grace herself appeared. Tea's hot!' she sang better.

out, all unsuspecting. I could not bear it. I gave her a smile, Downstairs all seemed ominously still, and when I arrived nodded blindly towards her mother, then made my escape.

at the parlour it was to find its door shut fast against me. I Her voice - 'Oh, Ma, what's up?' - pursued me up the gave a knock, and turned the handle, my heart beating. Mrs stairwell, followed by Mrs Milne's murmurs. In a moment I Milne was seated before the table, where I had left her. She 289

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was less ashen than before, but still looked grim. The teapot stood awkwardly before the Light of the World and the blue stood cooling on its tray, its contents unpoured; the cups lay effeminate idol, she with her arms folded over her bosom, huddled on their nest of saucers beside it. Gracie sat stiff me hung with bags, and still clad in my scarlet duds.

and straight on the sofa, her face turned effortfully away,

'I'm sorry, Mrs M, that this has been so sudden,' I tried; but her gaze fixed unswervingly - but also, I thought, she hushed me.

unseeingly - on the view beyond the window. I had

'Never mind, dear. You must go your own way.' She was expected her to weep at my news; instead, it seemed to too kind to be stern for long. I said that I had left my room have enraged her. Her lips were clenched and quite drained in order; that I would send her my address (I never did, I of colour.

never did!); and lastly that she was the best landlady in the Mrs Milne, at lest, appeared to have reconciled herself a city, and that if her next girl did not appreciate her I would little to my departure, for she addressed me now with make it my business to find out why.

something like a smile. 'I'm afraid Gracie is not quite She smiled in earnest then, and we hugged. Yet, as we drew herself,' she said. 'Your tidings've quite upset her. I told her apart, I could sense that something was troubling her; and you'll be coming to see us, but - well - she's that stubborn.'

as I stood on the step for my final farewell, she spoke.

'Stubborn?' I said, as if amazed. 'Not our Gracie?' I took a

'Nance,' she said, 'don't mind me asking, but - this friend: it step towards her and reached out a hand. With something is a girl, ain't it?'

like a yelp she thrust me away, and shuffled to the furthest I snorted. 'Oh, Mrs Milne! Did you really think - ? Did you end of the sofa, her head all the time kept at its stiff, really think that I would - ?' That I would set up house with unnatural angle. She had never shown me such displeasure a man, was what she meant: me, with my trousers and my before; when I spoke to her next it was with real feeling.

bar-bered hair! She blushed.

'Ah, now don't be like that, Gracie, please. Won't you give

'I just thought,' she said. 'A girl can get herself hooked up me a word, or a kiss, before I go? Won't you shake hands by a feller, these days, quicker'n that. And what with you with me, even? I shall miss you, so; and I should hate us to moving out so sudden, I was half convinced you'd let some part on bad terms, after all our fun together.' And I went on gentleman or other make you a pile of promises. I should've in this fashion, half entreating, half reproachful, until Mrs known better.'

Milne rose and touched my shoulder, and said quietly, 'Best My laughter rang a little hollowly then, as I thought of how leave her, Nance, and be on your way. You come back and near her thoughts ran to the truth, while yet remaining so see her another day; she'll've come round by then, I don't far from it.

doubt it.'

I took a firmer grip of my bags. I had told her I was heading So I had to leave, in the end, without Grace's good-bye kiss.

for the cab rank on the King's Cross Road, since that was Her mother accompanied me to the front door, where we the direction in which I must walk in order to rejoin Diana's 291

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driver. Her eyes, which had stayed dry through all her first remembered the appointment I had made, to meet my new shock at my news, now began to glisten. She kept her place friend Florence. It was for Friday: that, I realised, was on the doorstep as I made my slow, awkward way down today. I had said that I would see her at the entrance to the Green Street. 'Don't forget us, love!' she called out, and I public house at six o'clock, and it must, I thought, be past turned to wave. At the parlour window a figure had six now ... Even as I thought it, the carriage slowed in the appeared. Grace! She had unbent enough, then, to watch me traffic and I saw her standing there, a little way along the leave. I widened the arc of my wave, then caught up my cap street, waiting for me. The brougham crawled still slower; and flapped that at her. Two boys turning somersaults on a from behind the lace of its windows I could see her broken railing stopped their game to give me a playful perfectly, frowning to her left and right, then bending her salute: they took me for a soldier, I suppose, whose leave head to look at the watch at her bosom, then raising a hand had all run out, and Mrs Milne for my tearful, white-haired to tuck a curl in place. Her face, I thought, was so very old mother, and Gracie no doubt for my sister or my wife.

plain and kind. I had a sudden urge to tug at the latch of the But for all that I waved and blew kisses, she made me no door, and race down the street to her side; I could at least, I sign, simply stood with her head and her hands upon the thought, call to the driver to stop his horse, so that I might window-pane, which pressed a whiter circle to the centre of shout some apology to her . . .

her pale brow, and to the end of each blunt finger. At last I But while I sat, anxious and undecided, the traffic grew let my arm slow, and fall.

swift, the carriage gave a jerk, and in a moment Judd Street

'She don't love yer much,' said one of the boys; and when I and plain, kind Florence were far behind me. I could not had looked from him back to the house, Mrs Milne had bear the thought, then, of asking the forbidding Mr Shilling gone. Gracie, however, still stood and watched. Her gaze -

to turn the horse around, for all that I was his mistress for cold and hard as alabaster, piercing as a pin - pursued me to the afternoon. And besides, what would I say to her? I the corner of the King's Cross Road. Even up the steep would never, I supposed, be free to meet with her again; climb to Percy Circus, where the windows of Green Street and I could hardly expect to have her visit me at Diana's.

are quite hidden from view, it seemed to prick and worry at She would be surprised, I thought, and cross, when I didn't the flesh upon my back. Only when I had seated myself in turn up: the third woman to be disappointed by me that day.

the shadowy interior of Diana's carriage, and made fast the I was sorry, too - but, on reflection, not terribly sorry. Not latch of the door, did I feel quite free of it, and secure once terribly sorry at all.

again on the path of my new life.

When I returned to Felicity Place - for that, I saw now, was But even then there was another reminder of my unpaid the name of the square in which my mistress had her home debts to the old one. For on our drive along the Euston

-I was greeted with gifts. I found Diana in the upstairs Road we neared the corner of Judd Street, and all at once I parlour, bathed and dressed at last, and with her hair in 293

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plaits and elaborately pinned. She looked handsome, in a drawers, marked links and neckties, collars and studs.

gown of grey and crimson, with her waist very narrow and These were all full; and on a further rack of shelves, her back very straight. I recalled those laces and ties I had marked linen, there was fold after fold of white lawn shirts.

rumbled over the night before: there was no sign of them I gazed at all this, then kissed Diana very hard indeed -

now beneath the smooth sheath of her bodice. The thought partly, I must confess, in the hope that she would close her of that invisible linen and corsetry, which a maid's steady eyes, and thus not see how much I was in awe of her. But fingers had fastened and concealed and my own trembling when she had gone, I fairly danced about the golden floor hands, I guessed, would later uncover and undo, was rather in pleasure. I took the suit, and a shirt, and a collar, and a thrilling. I went to her, and put my hands on her, and kissed necktie, and laid them all, in proper order, upon the bed.

her hard upon the mouth, until she laughed. I had woken Then I danced again. The bags I had brought with me from tired and sore; I had had a dismal time at Green Street; but I Mrs Milne's I carried to the closet and cast, unopened, into did not feel dismal now - I felt limber and hot. If I had had the farthest corner.

a cock, it would have been twitching.

I wore my suit to supper; it looked, I knew, very well on We embraced for a minute or two; then she moved away me. Diana, however, said the cut was not quite right, and and took my hand. 'Come with me,' she said. 'I've had a that tomorrow she would have Mrs Hooper measure me room made ready for you.'

properly, and send my details to a tailor. I thought her faith I was at first a little dismayed to learn that I would not be in her housekeeper's discretion quite extraordinary; and sharing Diana's chamber; but I could not stay dismayed for when that lady had left us - for, as she had at lunch, she long. The room to which she led me - it was a little way filled our plates and glasses, then stood in grave and (I along the corridor - was hardly less imposing than her own, thought) unnerving attendance until dismissed -I said so.

and quite as grand. Its walls were bare and creamy-white, Diana laughed.

its carpets gold, its screen and bedstead of bamboo; There's a secret to that,' she said; 'can't you guess it?'

its dressing-table, moreover, was crowded with goods - a

'You pay her a fortune in wages, I suppose.'

cigarette-case of tortoise-shell, a pair of brushes and a

'Well, perhaps. But didn't you catch Mrs Hooper, gazing comb, a button-hook of ivory, and various jars and bottles through her lashes at you as she served you your soup?

of oils and perfumes. A door beside the bed led to a long, Why, she was practically drooling into your plate!'

low-ceilinged closet: here, draped on a pair of wooden

'You don't mean - you can't mean - that she is just - like us?'

shoulders, was a dressing-gown of crimson silk, to match She nodded: 'Of course. And as for little Blake - why, I Diana's green one; and here, too, was the suit I had been plucked her, poor child, from a reformatory cell. They had promised: a handsome costume of grey worsted, terribly sent her there for corrupting a house-maid . . .'