A Bed of Roses Part 19

Neville and Victoria sat at a small table made for two. She surrendered her feet to the clasp of his. Around her were about two hundred couples and a hundred family parties. Most of the young men were elaborately casual; they wore blue or tweed suits, a few, frock coats marred by double collars; they had a tendency to loll and to puff the insolent tobacco smoke of virginias towards the distant roof. Their young ladies talked a great deal and looked about. There was much wriggling of chairs, much giggling, much pulling up of long gloves over bare arms. In a corner, all alone, a young man in well-fitting evening clothes was consuming in melancholy some chocolate and a sandwich.

Neville plied Victoria with the major part of a half bottle of claret.

'Burgundy's the thing,' he said. 'More body in it.'

'Yes, it is good, isn't it? I mustn't have any more, though.'

'Oh, you're all right,' said Neville indulgently. 'Let's have some coffee and a liqueur.'

'No, no liqueur for me.'

'Well, coffee then. Here, waiter.'

Neville struggled for some minutes. He utterly failed to gain the ear of the waiters.

'Let's go, Beauty,' said Victoria. 'I don't want any coffee. No, really, I'd rather not. I can't sleep if I take it.'

The couple walked up Regent Street, then along Piccadilly. Neville held Victoria's arm. He had slipped his fingers under the long glove. She did not withdraw her arm. His touch tickled her senses to quiescence if not to satisfaction. They turned into the Park. Just behind the statue of Achilles they stepped upon the gra.s.s and at once Neville threw his arm round Victoria. It was a little chilly; mist was rising from the gra.s.s.

The trees stood blackly out of it, as if sawn off a few feet from the ground. Neville stopped. A little smile was on his lips.

'Beauty boy,' said Victoria.

He drew her towards him and kissed her. He kissed her on the forehead, then on the cheek, for he was a sybarite, in matters of love something of an artist, just behind the ear, then pa.s.sionately on the lips.

Victoria closed her eyes and threw one arm round his neck. She felt exhilarated, as if gently warmed. They walked further westwards, and with every step the fog thickened.

'Let's stop, Beauty,' said Victoria, after they had rather suddenly walked up to a thicket. 'We'll get lost in the wilderness.'

'And wilderness were paradise enow,' murmured Neville in her ear.

Victoria did not know the hackneyed line. It sounded beautiful to her.

She laughed nervously and let Neville draw her down by his side on the gra.s.s.

'Oh, let me go, Beauty,' she whispered. 'Suppose someone should come.'

Neville did not answer. He had clasped her to him. His lips were more insistent on hers. She felt his hand on her breast.

'Oh, no, no, Beauty, don't, please don't,' she said weakly.

For some minutes she lay pa.s.sive in his grasp. He had undone the back of her blouse. His hand, cold and dry, had slipped along her shoulder, seeking warmth.

Slowly his clasp grew harder; he used his weight. Victoria bent under it. Something like faintness came over her.

'Victoria, Victoria, my darling.' The voice seemed far away. She was giving way more and more. Not a blade of gra.s.s shuddered under its shroud of mist. From the road came the roar of a motorbus, like a m.u.f.fled drum. Then she felt the damp of the gra.s.s on her back through the opening of her blouse.

A second later she was sitting up. She had thrust Neville away with a savage push under the chin. He seized her once more. She fought him, seeing nothing to struggle with but a silent dark shadow.

'No, Beauty, no, you mustn't,' she panted.

They were standing then, both of them.

'Vic, darling, why not?' pleaded Neville gently, still holding her hand.

'I don't know. Oh, no, really I can't, Beauty.'

She did not know it, but generations of clean living were fighting behind her, driving back and crushing out the forces of nature. She did not know that, like most women, she was not a free being but the great-granddaughter of a woman whose forbears had taught her that illegal surrender is evil.

'I'm sorry, Beauty, . . . it's my fault,' she said.

'Oh, don't mention it,' said Neville icily, dropping her hand. 'You're playing with me, that's all.'

'I'm not,' said Victoria, tears of excitement in her eyes. 'Oh, Beauty, don't you understand. We women, we can't do what we like. It's so hard.

We're poor, and life is so dull and we wish we were dead. And then a man comes like you and the only thing he can offer, we mustn't take it.'

'But why, why?' asked Beauty.

'I don't know,' said Victoria. 'We mustn't. At any rate I mustn't. My freedom is all I've got and I can't give it up to you like that. I like you, you know that, don't you, Beauty?'

Neville did not answer.

'I do, Beauty. But I can't, don't you see. If I were a rich woman it would be different. I'd owe n.o.body anything. But I'm poor; it'd pull me down and . . . when a woman's down, men either kick or kiss her.'

Neville shrugged his shoulders.

'Let's go,' he said.

Silently, side by side, they walked out of the park.

CHAPTER XVIII

OCTOBER was dying, its russet tints slowly merging into grey. Thin mists, laden with fine specks of soot, had penetrated into the 'Rosebud.' Victoria, in her black business dress, under which she now had to wear a vest which rather killed the tip-drawing power of her openwork blouse, was setting her tables, quickly crossing red cloths over white, polishing the gla.s.ses, arranging knives and forks in artistic if inconvenient positions. It was ten o'clock, but business had not begun, neither Mr Stein nor b.u.t.ty having arrived.

'Cold, ain't it?' remarked Gertie.

'Might be colder,' said Bella Prodgitt.

Victoria came towards them, carrying a trayful of cruets.

''Ow's Beauty?' asked Gertie.

Victoria pa.s.sed by without a word. This romance had not added to the popularity of the chairman's favourite. Cora and Gladys were busy dusting the counter and polishing the urns. Lottie, in front of a wall gla.s.s, was putting the finishing touches to the set of her cap. The door opened to let in Mr Stein, strapped tight in his frock coat, his top hat set far back on his bullet head. He glared for a moment at the staff in general, then without a word took a letter addressed to him from a rack bearing several addressed to customers, and pa.s.sed into the cash desk.

The girls resumed their polishing more busily. Quickly the night wrappings fell from the chandeliers; the rosebud baskets were teased into shape; the tables, loaded swiftly with their sets, grew more becoming. Victoria, pa.s.sing from table to table set on each a small vase full of chrysanthemums.

'I say, Gladys, look at Stein,' whispered Cora to her neighbour. Gladys straightened herself from under the counter and followed the direction of Cora's finger.