Taste and Other Tales .pdf

 Taste and Other Tales ROALD DAHL Level 5 Selected and retold by Michael Caldon Series Editors: Andy Hopkins and Jocelyn Potter  Pearson Education Limited Edinburgh Gate, Harlow,...

 Taste and Other Tales ROALD DAHL Level 5 Selected and retold by Michael Caldon Series Editors: Andy Hopkins and Jocelyn Potter  Pearson Education Limited Edinburgh Gate, Harlow, Contents Essex CM20 2JE, England and Associated Companies throughout the world. page ISBN-10: 0-582-41943-3 ISBN-13: 978-0-582-41943-8 Introduction V First published in the Longman Simplified English Series 1979 Taste 1 in association with Michael Joseph Ltd. First published in Longman Fiction 1993 A Swim 14 This adaptation first published in 1996 Mrs Bixby and the Colonel's Coat 25 This edition first published 1999 The Way up to Heaven 40 9 10 The Sound Machine 54 NEW EDITION The Leg of Lamb 67 The stories contained in this edition are published internationally, in translation, by the following publishers: Gallimard in France, Birth and Fate 78 Rowohlt in Germany, Meulenhoff in The Netherlands, Hayakawa in Japan, Trebi in Sweden and Gyldendal in Denmark. Poison 86 This edition copyright © Penguin Books Ltd 1999 Activities 97 Cover design by Bender Richardson White Set in ll/14pt Bembo Printed in China SWTC/09 For a complete list of titles available in the Penguin Readers series please write to your local Pearson Education office or contact: Penguin Readers Marketing Department, Pearson Education, Edinburgh Gate, Harlow, Essex, CM20 2JE.  Introduction These strange and unusual stories were written by a man who is one of the most popular storytellers of our time. Roald Dahl was born in South Wales in 1916 to Norwegian parents, and his early life was overshadowed by sad events: his sister and his father died within a few weeks of each other when he was very young. He was educated at a boarding school for boys, but he did not fit in easily with the life of the school and had a very unhappy time. As a result of his experiences there, some of the stories he wrote later feature characters who are cruel to those who have been cruel to them. After leaving school, Dahl went to work for the Shell Oil Company in London and in Africa, and when the Second World War started he joined the Royal Air Force. He served as a fighter pilot in North Africa, where he was badly injured in a plane crash, and then in Greece and Syria. In 1942 he accepted a post as a British military official in Washington, and it was here that he began to have some success as a writer. He succeeded in selling a number of stories based on his wartime flying adventures to a newspaper called the Saturday Evening Post, and after the war ended he became increasingly known as a writer. In 1953 Dahl married the American actress Patricia Neal, with whom he had one son and four daughters. Many of his best books for young people grew out of stories that he invented for his children at bedtime. But Dahl's life was still clouded by family misfortune: one of his daughters died when she was seven years old, and his wife was very ill while the children were young. In 1983 his marriage to Patricia ended, and he married Felicity Ann Crosland. Dahl died in 1990 at the age of seventy-four. Over to You (1946) was Dahl's first collection of stories, based v on his years as a pilot. Other collections for adults which achieved life and schooldays, and Going Solo (1986), in which he describes wide popularity include Someone Like You (1953), Kiss, Kiss (1960) his flying days. Dahl has won many prizes for his writing over the and Switch Bitch (1974). A number of these stories were rewritten years, and his work continues to be popular with children and for television as Tales of the Unexpected. It is the development of adults all over the world. the action rather than that of the characters that is central to All the stories in this book have wonderfully inventive story lines Dahl's writing, and his stories are characterized by the presence with a twist in the tail. The characters are ordinary and of an unusual twist at the end. He admitted that he found it respectable on the surface, but many of them have an increasingly hard to find new ideas for his adult fiction, and this unexpectedly dark and cruel side to their personality. Tension is was when he began to write for children. He had great success built up around the relationships between the various characters. with his young readers, who love Dahl's dark humour and the Often a husband and wife are involved in mind games in which sense that his characters can make anything happen if they want their hatred for each other is rarely mentioned or acted on until it enough. Many adults, among them parents, teachers and it has built up to an unbearable level. librarians, have voiced objections to what they consider to be bad A harmless guessing game between two lovers of good wine manners and violence in Dahl's books, but children do not seem suddenly becomes deadly serious, while a competition on board to share these worries. a ship has an even more serious result for one of the competitors. Dahl wrote nineteen children's books in all. The first was James Mrs Bixby is faced with a difficult problem when her lover gives and the Giant Peach (1961), in which a boy crosses the Atlantic her an expensive gift, and Mrs Foster's terrible fear of being late Ocean inside a large piece of fruit, together with some very big is cruelly used by her husband. And what are the frightening insects. While on a tour of a magical and mysterious chocolate sounds that Klausner can hear on the strange machine he has factory in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (1964), Charlie sees built? These situations, and more, develop in unexpected ways in four unpleasant children disappear. This book became a best- this excellent collection of Dahl's finest stories. seller as soon as it appeared and was made into a very successful film in 1971. Many of the children's stories present ugly and unpleasant characters to whom unpleasant things happen. George's Marvellous Medicine (1981) is about a boy who has a mean, unkind grandmother; in return for her unkindness, he gives her a medicine which does strange and terrible things to her. Children love Revolting Rhymes (1982), in which traditional stories are retold as poems in amusing ways. Dahl also wrote for the cinema, including the screenplay for You Only Live Twice (1967) and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang (1968). Parts of his own life story are told in Boy (1984), about his early vi vii  Taste There were six of us at dinner that night at Mike Schofield's house in London: Mike and his wife and daughter, my wife and I, and a man called Richard Pratt. Richard Pratt was famous for his love of food and wine. He was president of a small society known as the Epicures, and each month he sent privately to its members information about food and wines. He organized dinners where wonderful dishes and rare wines were served. He refused to smoke for fear of harming his ability to taste, and when discussing a wine, he had a strange habit of describing it as if it were a living being. 'A sensible wine,' he would say, 'rather shy but quite sensible.' Or, 'A good- humoured wine, kind and cheerful - slightly rude perhaps, but still good-natured.' I had been to dinner at Mike's twice before when Richard Pratt was there, and on each occasion Mike and his wife had cooked a very special meal for the famous epicure. And this one, clearly, was to be no exception. The yellow roses on the dining table, the quantity of shining silver, the three wine glasses to each person and, above all, the faint smell of roasting meat from the kitchen brought on a strong desire for the immediate satisfaction of my hunger. As we sat down, I remembered that on both Richard Pratt's last visits Mike had played a little betting game with him over the claret. He had asked him to name it and to guess its age. Pratt had replied that that should not be too difficult if it was one of the great years. Mike had then bet him a case of that same wine that he could not do it. Pratt had accepted, and had won both times. Tonight I felt sure that the little game would be played again, since Mike was quite ready to lose the bet to prove that his wine 1 was good enough to be recognized, and Pratt seemed to take was half turned towards her, smiling at her, telling her, as far as I pleasure in showing his knowledge. could hear, some story about a cook in a Paris restaurant. As he The meal began with a plate of fish, fried in butter, and to go spoke, he leaned closer and closer to her, and the poor girl leaned with it there was a Mosel wine. Mike got up and poured the wine as far as she could away from him, smiling politely and looking himself, and when he sat down again, I could see that he was not at his face but at the top button of his dinner jacket. watching Richard Pratt. He had set the bottle in front of me so We finished our fish, and the servant came round and took that I could read its name. It said,'Geierslay Ohligsberg 1945'. He away the plates. When she came to Pratt, she saw that he had not leaned over and whispered to me that Geierslay was a small yet touched his food, so she waited, and Pratt noticed her. He village in the Mosel area, almost unknown outside Germany. He quickly began to eat, pushing the pieces of fish into his mouth said that this wine we were drinking was something unusual, and with rapid movements of his fork. Then, when he had finished, that so little of this wine was produced that it was almost he reached for his glass, and in two short swallows he poured the impossible for a stranger to get any of it. He had visited Geierslay wine down his throat and turned immediately to continue his personally the summer before in order to obtain the few bottles conversation with Louise Schofield. that they had allowed him to have. Mike saw it all. I was conscious of him sitting there, very still, 'I doubt whether anyone else in the country has any of it at looking at his guest. His round, cheerful face seemed to loosen the moment,' he said. slightly, but he controlled himself and said nothing. I saw him look again at Richard Pratt. 'The great thing about Soon the servant came forward with the second course. This Mosel,' he continued, raising his voice,'is that it's the perfect wine was a large joint of roast meat. She placed it on the table in front to serve before a claret. A lot of people serve a Rhine wine of Mike, who stood up and cut it very thinly, laying the pieces instead, but that's because they don't know any better.' gently on the plates for her to take to the guests. When everyone Mike Schofield was a man who had become very rich very had been served, he put down the knife and leaned forward with quickly and now also wanted to be considered someone who both hands on the edge of the table. understood and enjoyed the good things in life. 'Now,' he said, speaking to all of us but looking at Richard 'An attractive little wine, don't you think?' he added. He was Pratt. 'Now for the claret. I must go and get it, if you'll excuse me.' still watching Richard Pratt. I could see him give a quick look 'Get it?' I said. 'Where is it?' down the table each time he dropped his head to take a mouthful 'In my study, already open; it's breathing.' of fish. I could almost feel him waiting for the moment when 'Why the study?' Pratt would drink his first drop, and look up from his glass with 'It's the best place in the house for a wine to reach room a smile of pleasure, perhaps even of surprise, and then there would temperature. Richard helped me to choose it last time he was be a discussion and Mike would tell him about the village of here.' Geierslay. At the sound of his name, Richard looked round. But Richard Pratt did not taste his wine. He was too deep in 'That's right, isn't it?' Mike said. conversation with Mike's eighteen-year-old daughter, Louise. He 'Yes,' Pratt answered seriously. 'That's right.' 2 3  'On top of the green cupboard in my study,' Mike said. 'That's 'You mean you want to bet? the place we chose. A good spot in a room with an even 'I'm perfectly ready to bet,' Richard Pratt said. temperature. Excuse me now, will you, while I get it.' 'All right, then, we'll bet the usual. A case of the wine itself The thought of another wine to play with had cheered him 'You don't think I'll be able to name it, do you?' up, and he hurried out of the door. He returned a minute later 'As a matter of fact, and with respect, I don't,' Mike said. He more slowly, walking softly, holding in both hands a wine basket was trying to remain polite, but Pratt was making little attempt to in which a dark bottle lay with the name out of sight, facing hide his low opinion of the whole business. Strangely, though, his downwards. 'Now!' he cried as he came towards the table. 'What next question seemed to show a certain interest. about this one, Richard? You'll never name this one!' 'Would you like to increase the bet?' Richard Pratt turned slowly and looked up at Mike, then his 'No, Richard. A case is enough.' eyes travelled down to the bottle in its small basket. He stuck out 'Would you like to bet fifty cases?' his wet lower lip, suddenly proud and ugly. 'That would be silly.' 'You'll never get it,' Mike said. 'Not in a hundred years.' Mike stood very still behind his chair at the head of the table, 'A claret?' Richard Pratt said, rather rudely. carefully holding the bottle in its basket. There was a whiteness 'Of course.' about his nose now and his mouth was shut very tightly. 'I suppose, then, that not much of this particular claret is Pratt was sitting back in his chair, looking up at Mike. His eyes produced?' were half closed, and a little smile touched the corners of his lips. 'Perhaps it is, Richard. And perhaps it isn't.' And again I saw, or thought I saw, something very evil about the 'But it's a good year? One of the great years?' man's face. 'Yes, I can promise that.' 'So you don't want to increase the bet?' 'Then it shouldn't be too difficult,' Richard Pratt said, speaking 'As far as I'm concerned, I don't care,' Mike said. 'I'll bet you slowly, looking extremely bored. But to me there was something anything you like.' strange about his way of speaking; between the eyes there was a The three women and I sat quietly, watching the two men. shadow of something evil, and this gave me a faint sense of Mike's wife was becoming annoyed; I felt that at any moment she discomfort as I watched him. was going to interrupt. Our meat lay in front of us on our plates, 'This one is really rather difficult,' Mike said. 'I won't force you slowly steaming. to bet on this one.' 'So you'll bet me anything I like?' 'Really. And why not?' 'That's what I told you. I'll bet you anything you like.' 'Because it's difficult.' 'Even ten thousand pounds?' 'That's rather an insult to me, you know.' 'Certainly I will, if that's the way you want it.' Mike was more 'My dear man,' Mike said, 'I'll have a bet on it with pleasure, if confident now. He knew quite well that he could afford any sum that's what you wish.' that Pratt mentioned. 'It shouldn't be too hard to name it.' 'So you say that I can name the bet?' Pratt asked again. 4 5  'That's what I said.' example. How about my house?' There was a pause while Pratt looked slowly round the table, 'Which one?' Mike asked, joking now. first at me, then at the three women, each in turn. He seemed to 'The country one.' be reminding us that we were witnesses to the offer. 'Why not the other one as well?' 'Mike!' Mrs Schofield said. 'Mike, why don't we stop this 'All right, then, if you wish it. Both my houses.' nonsense and eat our food. It's getting cold.' At that point I saw Mike pause. He took a step forward and 'But it isn't nonsense,' Pratt told her calmly. 'We're making a placed the bottle in its basket gently down on the table. His little bet.' daughter, too, had seen him pause. I noticed the servant standing at the back of the room, holding 'Now, Daddy!' she cried. 'Don't be stupid! It's all too silly for a dish of vegetables, wondering whether to come forward with words. I refuse to be betted on like this.' them or not. 'Quite right, dear,' her mother said. 'Stop it immediately Mike, 'All right, then,' Pratt said. 'I'll tell you what I want you to bet.' and sit down and eat your food.' 'Tell me then,' Mike said. 'I don't care what it is. I'll bet.' Mike ignored her. He looked over at his daughter and he Again the little smile moved the corners of Pratt's lips, and smiled, a slow, fatherly, protective smile. But in his eyes, suddenly, then, quite slowly, looking at Mike all the time, he said, 'I want shone the faint light of victory. 'You know,' he said, smiling as he you to bet me the hand of your daughter in marriage.' spoke, 'you know, Louise, we ought to think about this a bit.' Louise Schofield gave a jump. 'Hey!' she cried. 'No! That's not 'Now stop it, Daddy! I refuse even to listen to you! Why, I've funny! Look here, Daddy, that's not funny at all.' never heard anything so crazy in all my life!' 'No, dear,' her mother said. 'They're only joking.' 'No, seriously, my dear. Just wait a moment and hear what I 'I'm not joking,' Richard Pratt said. have to say.' 'It's stupid,' Mike said. Once again, he was not in control of the 'But I don't want to hear it.' situation. 'Louise, please! It's like this. Richard, here, has offered us a 'You said you'd bet anything I liked.' serious bet. He is the one who wants to make it, not me. And if 'I meant money.' he loses, he will have to hand over a large amount of property. 'You didn't say money.' Now wait a minute, my dear, don't interrupt. The point is this. He 'That's what I meant.' cannot possibly win.' 'Then it's a pity you didn't say it. But, if you wish to take back 'He seems to think he can.' your offer, that's quite all right with me.' 'Now listen to me, because I know what I'm talking about. 'It's not a question of taking back my offer, old man. It's not a The claret I've got here comes from a very small wine-growing proper bet because you haven't got a daughter to offer me in case area that is surrounded by many other small areas that produce you lose. And if you had, I wouldn't want to marry her.' different varieties of wine. He'll never get it. It's impossible.' 'I'm glad of that, dear,' his wife said. 'You can't be sure of that,' his daughter said. 'I'll offer anything you like,' Pratt announced. 'My house, for 'I'm telling you I can. Though I say it myself, I understand 6 7 quite a bit about this wine business, you know. Heavens, girl, I'm round the table, filling up everybody's glasses. Now everybody your father and you don't think I'd make you do - do something was watching Richard Pratt, watching his face as he reached you didn't want to do, do you? I'm trying to make you some slowly for his glass with his right hand and lifted it to his nose. money.' The man was about fifty years old and he did not have a pleasant 'Mike!' his wife said sharply. 'Stop it now, Mike, please!' face. Somehow, it was all mouth — mouth and lips — the full, wet Again, he ignored her. 'If you will take this bet,' he said to his lips of the professional epicure. The lower lip hung down in the daughter,'in ten minutes you'll be the owner of two large houses.' centre, a permanently open taster's lip. Like a keyhole, I thought, 'But I don't want two large houses, Daddy.' watching it; his mouth is like a large wet keyhole. 'Then sell them. Sell them back to him immediately. I'll Slowly he lifted the glass to his nose. The point of his nose arrange all that for you. And then, just think of it, my dear, you'll entered the glass and moved over the surface of the wine. He be rich! You'll be independent for the rest of your life!' moved the wine gently around in the glass to smell it better. He 'Oh, Daddy, I don't like it. I think it's silly.' closed his eyes, and now the whole top half of his body, the head 'So do I,' the mother said. 'You ought to be ashamed of and neck and chest, seemed to become a kind of large sensitive yourself, Michael, for even suggesting such a thing! Your own smelling-machine. daughter, too!' Mike, I noticed, was sitting back in his chair, trying to appear Mike did not look at her. 'Take it!' he said eagerly, looking hard unconcerned, but he was watching every movement. Mrs at the girl. 'Take it, quickly! I promise you won't lose.' Schofield, the wife, sat upright at the other end of the table, 'But I don't like it, Daddy.' looking straight ahead, her face tight with disapproval. The 'Come on, girl. Take it!' daughter, Louise, had moved her chair away a little and sideways, Mike was pushing her hard. He was leaning towards her, and facing the epicure, and she, like her father, was watching closely. fixing her with two bright, determined eyes, and it was not easy For at least a minute, the smelling process continued; then, for his daughter to refuse him. without opening his eyes or moving his head, Pratt lowered the 'But what if I lose?' glass to his mouth and poured in almost half the wine. He paused, 'I keep telling you, you can't lose.' his mouth full, getting the first taste. And now, without 'Oh, Daddy, must I?' swallowing, he took in through his lips a thin breath of air which 'I'm making you a fortune. So come on now. What do you say, mixed with the wine in the mouth and passed on down into his Louise? All right?' lungs. He held his breath, blew it out through his nose, and finally For the last time, she paused. Then she gave a helpless little began to roll the wine around under his tongue. movement of the shoulders and said, 'Oh, all right, then. Just so It was an impressive performance. long as you swear there's no danger of losing.' Urn,' he said, putting down the glass, moving a pink tongue 'Good!' Mike cried. 'That's fine! Then it's a bet!' over his lips. 'Um — yes. A very interesting little wine - gentle and 'Yes,' Richard Pratt said, looking at the girl. 'It's a bet.' graceful. We can start by saying what it is not. You will pardon me Immediately, Mike picked up the wine and walked excitedly for doing this carefully, but there is much to lose. Usually I would 8 9 perhaps take a bit of a chance, but this time I must move carefully, Again he paused. He took up his glass. Then I saw his tongue must I not?' He looked up at Mike and he smiled, a thick-lipped, shoot out, pink and narrow, the end of it reaching into the wine. wet-lipped smile. Mike did not smile back. A horrible sight. When he lowered his glass, his eyes remained 'First, then, which area of Bordeaux does this wine come closed. Only his lips were moving, sliding over each other like from? That's not too difficult to guess. It's far too light to be from two pieces of wet rubber. either St Emilion or Graves. It's obviously a Medoc. There's no 'There it is again!' he cried. 'Something in the middle taste. Yes, doubt about that. Now, from which part of Medoc does it come? yes, of course! Now I have it! The wine comes from around That should not be too difficult to decide. Margaux? No, it Beychevelle. I remember now. The Beychevelle area, and the river cannot be Margaux. Pauillac? It cannot be Pauillac, either. It is too and the little port. Could it actually be Beychevelle itself? No, I gentle for Pauillac. No, no, this is a very gentle wine. don't think so. Not quite. But it is somewhere very close. Talbot? Unmistakably this is a St Julien.' Could it be Talbot? Yes, it could. Wait one moment.' He leaned back in his chair and placed his fingers carefully He drank a little more wine, and out of the corner of my eye together. I found myself waiting rather anxiously for him to go I noticed Mike Schofield and how he was leaning further and on. The girl, Louise, was lighting a cigarette. Pratt heard the match further forward over the table, his mouth slightly open, his small strike and he turned on her, suddenly very angry. 'Please!' he said. eyes fixed on Richard Pratt. 'Please don't do that! It's a terrible habit, to smoke at table!' 'No, I was wrong. It is not a Talbot. A Talbot comes forward to She looked up at him, slowly and disrespectfully, still holding you just a little more quickly than this one; the fruit is nearer the the burning match in one hand. She blew out the match, but surface. If it is a '34, which I believe it is, then it couldn't be a continued to hold the unlighted cigarette in her fingers. Talbot. Well, well, let me think. It is not a Beychevelle and it is 'I'm sorry, my dear,' Pratt said, 'but I simply cannot have not a Talbot, but — but it is so close to both of them, so close, that smoking at table.' it must be from somewhere almost in between. Now, which She didn't look at him again. could that be?' 'Now, let me see — where were we?' he said. 'Ah yes. This wine He was silent, and we waited, watching his face. Everyone, is from Bordeaux, from St Julien, in the area of Medoc. So far, so even Mike's wife, was watching him now. I heard the servant put good. But now we come to the more difficult part - the name of down the dish of vegetables on a table behind me, gently, so as the producer. For in St Julien there are so many, and as our host not to break the silence. so rightly remarked, there is often not much difference between 'Ah!' he cried. 'I have it! Yes, I think I have it!' the wine of one and the wine of another. But we shall see.' For the last time, he drank some wine. Then, still holding the He picked up his glass and took another small drink. glass up near his mouth, he turned to Mike and he smiled, a slow, 'Yes,' he said, sucking his lips, 'I was right. Now I am sure of it. silky smile, and he said, 'You know what this is? This is the little It's from a very good year - from a great year, in fact. That's better! Chateau Branaire-Ducru.' Now we are closing in! Who are the wine producers in the area Mike sat tight, not moving. of St Julien?' 'And the year, 1934.' 10 11  We all looked at Mike, waiting for him to turn the bottle Then this happened: the servant, a small, upright figure in her around in its basket. white-and-black uniform, was standing beside Richard Pratt, 'Is that your final answer?' Mike said. holding something out in her hand. 'I believe these are yours, sir,' 'Yes, I think so.' she said. 'Well, is it, or isn't it?' Pratt looked round, saw the pair of glasses that she held out to 'Yes, it is.' him, and for a moment he paused. 'Are they? Perhaps they are, I 'What was the name again?' don't know.' 'Chateau Branaire-Ducru. Pretty little farm. Lovely old house. 'Yes, sir, they're yours. 'The servant was an old woman — nearer I know it quite well. I can't think why I didn't recognize it seventy than sixty — a trusted employee of the family for many immediately.' years. She put the glasses down on the table beside him. 'Come on, Daddy,' the girl said. 'Turn the bottle round and let's Without thanking her, Pratt picked them up and slipped them have a look. I want my two houses.' into his top pocket. 'Just a minute,' Mike said. 'Wait just a minute.' He was sitting But the servant did not go away. She remained standing beside very quiet, and his face was becoming pale, as though all the force Richard Pratt, and there was something so unusual in her manner was flowing slowly out of him. and in the way she stood there, small, still and upright, that I 'Michael!' his wife called out sharply from the other end of the found myself watching her with sudden anxiety. Her old grey table. 'What's the matter?' face had a cold, determined look. 'Keep out of this, Margaret, will you please.' 'You left them in Mr Schofield's study,' she said. Her voice was Richard Pratt was looking at Mike, smiling with his mouth, his unnaturally, deliberately polite. 'On top of the green cupboard in eyes small and bright. Mike was not looking at anyone. his study, sir, when you happened to go in there by yourself 'Daddy!' the daughter cried. 'You don't mean to say he guessed before dinner.' it right!' It took a few moments for the full meaning of her words to be 'Now, stop worrying, my dear,' Mike said. 'There's nothing to understood, and in the silence that followed I saw Mike slowly worry about.' pulling himself up in his chair, and the colour coming to his face, I think it was more to get away from his family than anything and his eyes opening wide, and the curl of his mouth — and a else that Mike then turned to Richard Pratt and said,'I think you dangerous whiteness beginning to spread around his nose. and I had better go into the next room and have a little talk.' 'Now, Michael!' his wife said. 'Keep calm now, Michael, dear! 'I don't want a little talk,' Pratt said. 'All I want is to see the Keep calm!' name on that bottle.' He knew he was a winner now and I could see that he was prepared to become thoroughly nasty if there was any trouble. ' W h a t are you waiting for?' he said to Mike. 'Go on and turn it round.' 12 13  wine glasses. Mrs Renshaw, seated at the purser's right, gave a little scream and held onto that gentleman's arm. A Swim 'It's going to be a rough night,' the purser said, looking at Mrs Renshaw. 'I think there's a storm coming that will give us a very On the morning of the third day, the sea calmed. Even the most rough night.' There was just the faintest suggestion of pleasure in delicate passengers — those who had not been seen around the the way he said it. ship since sailing time — came out of their rooms and made their Most of the passengers continued with their meal. A small way slowly onto the sundeck and sat there, with their faces number, including Mrs Renshaw, got carefully to their feet and turned to the pale January sun. made their way between the tables and through the doorway, It had been fairly rough for the first two days, and this sudden trying to hide the urgency they felt. calm, and the sense of comfort that came with it, made the whole 'Well,' the purser said, 'there she goes.' He looked round with ship seem much friendlier. By the time evening came, the approval at the remaining passengers who were sitting quietly, passengers, with twelve hours of good weather behind them, with their faces showing openly that pride that travellers seem to were beginning to feel more courageous. At eight o'clock that take in being recognized as 'good sailors'. night, the main dining room was filled with people eating and When the eating was finished and the coffee had been served, drinking with the confident appearance of experienced sailors. Mr Botibol, who had been unusually serious and thoughtful since The meal was not half over when the passengers realized, by the rolling started, suddenly stood up and carried his cup of the slight movement of their bodies on the seats of their chairs, coffee around to Mrs Renshaw's empty place, next to the purser. that the big ship had actually started rolling again. It was very He seated himself in her chair, then immediately leaned over and gentle at first, just a slow, lazy leaning to one side, then to the began to whisper urgently in the purser's ear. 'Excuse me,' he said, other, but it was enough to cause a slight but immediate loss of 'but could you tell me something, please?' good humour around the room. A few of the passengers looked The purser, small and fat and red, bent forward to listen. up from their food, waiting, almost listening for the next roll, 'What's the trouble, Mr Botibol?' smiling nervously, with little secret looks of fear in their eyes. 'What I want to know is this. 'The man's face was anxious and Some were completely calm; others were openly pleased with the purser was watching it. 'What I want to know is: will the themselves and made jokes about the food and the weather in captain already have made his guess at the day's run - you know, order to annoy the few who were beginning to suffer. The for the competition? I mean, will he have done so before it began movement of the ship then became rapidly more and more to get rough like this?' violent, and only five or six minutes after the first roll had been The purser lowered his voice, as one does when answering a noticed, the ship was swinging heavily from side to side. whisperer. 'I should think so - yes.' At last, a really bad roll came, and Mr William Botibol, sitting 'About how long ago do you think he did it?' at the purser's table, saw his plate of fish sliding suddenly away 'Some time this afternoon. He usually does it in the from under his fork. Everybody, now, was reaching for plates and afternoon.' 14 15  'About what time?' he had to catch hold of the back of a chair to steady himself 'Oh, I don't know. Around four o'clock I should think.' against the ship's roll. 'Now tell me another thing. How does the captain decide As he stepped out onto the sundeck, he felt the full force of which number it will be? Does he take a lot of trouble over that?' the wind. He took hold of the rail and held on tight with both The purser looked at the anxious face of Mr Botibol and hands, and he stood there looking out over the darkening sea smiled, knowing quite well what the man was trying to find out. where the great waves were rising up high. 'Well, you see, the captain has a little meeting with the second 'Quite bad out there, isn't it, sir?' said a waiter, as he went back officer, and they study the weather and a lot of other things, and inside again. then they make their guess.' Mr Botibol was combing his hair back into place with a small Mr Botibol thought about this answer for a moment. Then he red comb. 'Do you think we've slowed down at all because of the said, 'Do you think the captain knew there was bad weather weather?' he asked. coming today?' 'Oh, yes, sir. We've slowed down a great deal since this started. 'I couldn't tell you,' the purser replied. He was looking into the You have to slow down in weather like this or you'll be throwing small black eyes of the other man, seeing two single little spots of the passengers all over the ship.' excitement dancing in their centres. 'I really couldn't tell you, Mr Down in the smoking room people were already arriving for Botibol. I wouldn't know.' the auction. They were grouping themselves politely around the 'If this gets any worse, it might be worth buying some of the various tables, the men a little stiff in their dinner jackets, a little low numbers. What do you think?' The whispering was more pink beside their cool, white-armed women. Mr Botibol took a urgent, more anxious now. chair close to the auctioneer's table. He crossed his legs, folded his 'Perhaps it will,' the purser said. 'I doubt whether the captain arms, and settled himself in his seat with the appearance of a man allowed for a really rough night. It was quite calm this afternoon who has made a very important decision and refuses to be when he made his guess.' frightened. The others at the table had become silent and were trying to The winner, he was telling himself, would probably get around hear what the purser was saying. seven thousand dollars. That was almost exactly what the total 'Now suppose you were allowed to buy a number, which one auction money had been for the last two days, with the numbers would you choose today?' Mr Botibol asked. selling for about three or four hundred each. As it was a British 'I don't know what the range is yet,' the purser patiently ship the auction would be in pounds, but he liked to do his answered. 'They don't announce the range until the auction starts thinking in dollars, since he was more familiar with them. Seven after dinner. And I'm really not very good at it in any case. I'm thousand dollars was plenty of money. Yes, it certainly was! He only the purser, you know.' would ask them to pay him in hundred-dollar notes and he At that point, Mr Botibol stood up. 'Excuse me, everyone,' he would take them off the ship in the inside pocket of his jacket. said, and he walked carefully away between the other tables. Twice No problem there. He would buy a new car immediately. He 16 17  would collect it on the way from the ship and drive it home just then he would make the last offer. He had worked out that there for the pleasure of seeing Ethel's face when she came out of the must be at least five hundred dollars in his account at the bank at front door and looked at it. Wouldn't that be wonderful, to see home, probably almost six hundred. That was about two hundred Ethel's face when he drove up to the door in a new car? Hello, pounds — over two hundred. This ticket wouldn't cost more than Ethel, dear, he would say. I've just bought you a little present. I that. saw it in the window as I went by, so I thought of you and how 'As you all know,' the auctioneer was saying, 'low field covers you always wanted one. Do you like it, dear? Do you like the every number below the smallest number in the range — in this colour? And then he would watch her face. case every number below 820. So if you think the ship is going The auctioneer was standing up behind his table now. 'Ladies to cover less than 820 kilometres in the twenty-four hour period and gentlemen!' he shouted. 'The captain has guessed the day's ending at midday tomorrow, you'd better buy this ticket. What are run, ending midday tomorrow, at 830 kilometres. As usual, we you offering?' will take the ten numbers on either side of it to make up the It went up to one hundred and thirty pounds. Others besides range. That means 820 to 840. And of course for those who Mr Botibol seemed to have noticed that the weather was rough. think the true figure will be still further away, there will be One hundred and forty... fifty... There it stopped. The "low field" and "high field" sold separately as well. Now, auctioneer waited, his hammer raised. we'll draw the first number out of the hat... here we are... 'Going at one hundred and fifty...' 827?' 'Sixty!' Mr Botibol called, and every face in the room turned The room became quiet. The people sat still in their chairs, all and looked at him. eyes watching the auctioneer. There was a certain tension in the 'Seventy!' air, and as the offers got higher, the tension grew. This wasn't a 'Eighty!' Mr Botibol called. game or a joke; you could be sure of that by the way one man 'Ninety!' would look across at another who had made a higher offer - 'Two hundred!' Mr Botibol called. He wasn't stopping now — smiling perhaps, but only with the lips, while the eyes remained not for anyone. bright and completely cold. There was a pause. Number 827 was sold for one hundred and ten pounds. The 'Any more offers, please? Going at two hundred pounds...' next three or four numbers were sold for about the same Sit still, he told himself. Sit completely still and don't look up. amount. It's unlucky to look up. Hold your breath. No one's going to offer The ship was rolling heavily. The passengers held onto the more if you hold your breath. arms of their chairs, giving all their attention to the auction. 'Going for two hundred pounds...' Mr Botibol held his 'Low field!' the auctioneer called out. 'The next number is low breath. 'Going... Going... Gone!' The man banged the field.' hammer on the table. Mr Botibol sat up very straight and tense. He would wait, he Mr Botibol wrote out a cheque and handed it to the had decided, until the others had finished calling out their offers, auctioneer, then he settled back in his chair to wait for the finish. 18 19  He did not want to go to bed before he knew how much money something like this before, but that did not prevent him from there was to win. doing it again. The ship would have to stop and lower a boat, and They added it up after the last number had been sold and it the boat would have to go back perhaps a kilometre to get him, came to two thousand one hundred pounds. That was about six and then it would have to return to the ship. That would take thousand dollars. He could buy the car and there would be some about an hour. An hour was about forty-eight kilometres. The money left over, too. With this pleasant thought, he went off, delay would reduce the day's run by about forty-eight kilometres. happy and excited, to his bed. That would do it. 'Low field' would be sure to win then —just so When Mr Botibol woke the next morning he lay quite still for long as he made certain that someone saw him falling over the several minutes with his eyes shut, listening for the sound of the side; but that would be simple to arrange. And he had better wear wind, waiting for the roll of the ship. There was no sound of any light clothes, some-thing easy to swim in. Sports clothes, that was wind and the ship was not rolling. He jumped up and looked out it. He would dress as if he were going to play deck tennis —just of the window. The sea — oh, God! — the sea was as smooth as a shirt and a pair of shorts and tennis shoes. What was the time? glass, and the great ship was moving through it fast, obviously 9.15. The sooner the better, then. He would have to do it soon, regaining the time lost during the night. Mr Botibol turned away because the time limit was midday. and sat slowly down on the edge of his bed. He had no hope now. Mr Botibol was both frightened and excited when he stepped One of the higher numbers was certain to win after this. out onto the sundeck in his sports clothes. He looked around 'Oh, my God,' he said out loud. 'What shall I do?' nervously. There was only one other person in sight, a woman What, for example, would Ethel say? It was simply not possible who was old and fat. She was leaning over the rail, looking at the to tell her that he had spent almost all of their two years' savings sea. She was wearing a heavy coat, and the collar was turned up, on a ticket in a ship's competition. Nor was it possible to keep the so Mr Botibol couldn't see her face. matter secret. To do that he would have to tell her to stop writing He stood still, examining her carefully from a distance. Yes, he cheques. And what about the monthly payments on the television told himself, she would probably do. She would probably call for set? Already he could see the anger in the woman's eyes, the blue help just as quickly as anyone else. But wait one minute, take your becoming grey and the eyes themselves narrowing, as they always time, William Botibol, take your time. Remember what you told did when there was anger in them. yourself in your room a few minutes ago when you were 'Oh, my God. What shall I do?' changing. It was no use pretending that he had the slightest chance now The thought of jumping off a ship into the ocean hundreds - not unless the ship started to go backwards. of kilometres from the nearest land had made Mr Botibol — It was at this moment that an idea came to him, and he jumped always a careful man — unusually so. He was not yet satisfied that up from his bed, extremely excited, ran over to the window and this woman in front of him was sure to call for help when he looked out again. Well, he thought, why not? Why ever not? The made his jump. In his opinion there were two possible reasons sea was calm and he would have no difficulty in swimming until why she might not. First, she might have bad hearing and bad they picked him up. He had a feeling that someone had done eyesight. It was not very likely, but on the other hand it might be 20 21 so, and why take a chance? All he had to do was to check it by fish in this part of the Atlantic, and there was this pleasant, kind talking to her for a moment. Second, the woman might be the old woman to call for help. It was now only a question of owner of one of the high numbers in the competition; if so, she whether the ship would be delayed for long enough to help him would have a very good financial reason for not wishing to stop win. Almost certainly it would. the ship. Mr Botibol remembered that people had killed for far Mr Botibol moved slowly to a position at the rail about less than six thousand dollars. It was happening every day in the eighteen metres away from the woman. She wasn't looking at newspapers. So why take a chance on that either? He must check him now. All the better. He didn't want her to watch him as he it first, and be sure of his facts. He must find out about it by a little jumped off. So long as no one was watching, he would be able polite conversation. Then, if the woman appeared to be a pleasant, to say afterwards that he had slipped and fallen by accident. He kind human being, the thing was easy and he could jump off the looked over the side of the ship. It was a long, long drop. He ship without worrying. might easily hurt himself badly if he hit the water flat. He must Mr Botibol walked towards the woman and took up a position jump straight and enter the water feet first. It seemed cold and beside her, leaning on the rail. 'Hello,' he said pleasantly. deep and grey and it made him shake with fear just to look at it. She turned and smiled at him, a surprisingly lovely smile, But it was now or never. Be a man, William Botibol, be a man. almost a beautiful smile, although the face itself was very plain. All right then... now... 'Hello,' she answered him. He climbed up onto the wide wooden rail and stood there And that, Mr Botibol told himself, answers the first question. balancing for three terrible seconds, then he jumped up and out Her hearing and eyesight are good. 'Tell me,' he said, 'what did as far as he could go, and at the same time he shouted 'Help!' you think of the auction last night?' 'Help! Help!' he shouted as he fell. Then he hit the water and 'Auction?' she asked. 'Auction? What auction?' went under. 'You know, that silly thing they have after dinner. They sell When the first shout for help sounded, the woman who was numbers that might be equal to the ship's daily run. I just leaning on the rail gave a little jump of surprise. She looked wondered what you thought about it.' around quickly and saw - sailing past her through the air - this She shook her head, and again she smiled, a sweet and pleasant small man dressed in white shorts and tennis shoes, shouting as smile. 'I'm very lazy,' she said. 'I always go to bed early. I have my he went. For a moment she looked as if she were not quite sure dinner in bed. It's so restful to have dinner in bed.' what she ought to do: throw a lifebelt, run away and find help, Mr Botibol smiled back at her and began to walk away. 'I must or simply turn and shout. She stepped back from the rail and go and get my exercise now,' he said. 'I never miss my exercise in swung round, and for this short moment she remained still, tense the morning. It was nice seeing you. Very nice seeing you...' and undecided. Then almost immediately she seemed to relax, He took a few more steps and the woman let him go without and she leaned forward far over the rail, looking at the water. looking around. Soon a small round black head appeared in the water, an arm Everything was now in order. The sea was calm, he was lightly raised above it, waving, once, twice, and a small faraway voice dressed for swimming, there were almost certainly no man-eating was heard calling something that was difficult to understand. The 22 23  woman leaned still further over the rail, trying to keep the little black spot in sight, but soon, so very soon, it was such a long way away that she couldn't even be sure that it was there at all. Mrs Bixby and the Colonel's Coat After a time, another woman came out on deck. This one was thin and bony and wore glasses. She saw the first woman and Mr and Mrs Bixby lived in a smallish flat somewhere in New walked over to her. York City. Mr Bixby was a dentist, who earned an average 'So there you are,' she said. income. Mrs Bixby was a big, active woman with a wet mouth. The fat woman turned and looked at her, but said nothing. Once a month, always on Friday afternoons, Mrs Bixby would 'I've been searching for you,' the bony one continued. get on the train at Pennsylvania Station and travel to Baltimore to 'Searching all over the ship.' visit her old aunt. She would spend the night with the aunt and 'It's very strange,' the fat woman said. 'A man jumped off the return to New York City on the following day, in time to cook deck just now, with his clothes on.' supper for her husband. Mr Bixby accepted this arrangement 'Nonsense!' good-naturedly. He knew that Aunt Maude lived in Baltimore, 'Oh, yes. He said he wanted to get some exercise, and he and that his wife was very fond of the old lady, and certainly it jumped in and didn't even take his clothes off.' would be unreasonable to refuse either of them the pleasure of a 'You'd better come down now,' the bony woman said. Her monthly meeting. mouth had suddenly become firm, her whole face sharp, and she 'But you mustn't ever expect me to come too,' Mr Bixby had spoke less kindly than before. 'And don't you ever go wandering said in the beginning. about on deck alone like this again. You know you're meant to 'Of course not, darling,' Mrs Bixby had answered. 'After all, wait for me.' she's not your aunt. She's mine.' 'Yes, Maggie,' the fat woman answered, and again she smiled, a So far, so good. kind, trusting smile, and she took the hand of the other one and As it turned out, though, the aunt was only a convenient allowed herself to be led away across the deck. excuse for Mrs Bixby. The real purpose of her trips was to visit a 'Such a nice man,' she said. 'He waved to me.' gentleman known as the Colonel, and she spent the greater part of her time in Baltimore in his company. The Colonel was very wealthy. He lived in an attractive house on the edge of the town. He had no wife and no family, only a few loyal servants, and in Mrs Bixby's absence he amused himself by riding his horses and hunting. Year after year, this pleasant friendship between Mrs Bixby and the Colonel continued without a problem. They met so rarely - twelve times a year is not much when you think about it — that there was little or no chance of their growing bored with one 24 25 another. The opposite was true: the long wait between meetings paper, her fingers reaching out delicately. made them fonder, and each separate occasion became an 'My God!' she cried suddenly. 'It can't be true!' exciting reunion. She opened her eyes wide and looked at the coat. Then she Eight years went by. seized it and lifted it out of the box. The thick fur made a It was just before Christmas, and Mrs Bixby was standing on wonderful noise against the paper and when she held it up and the station in Baltimore, waiting for the train to take her back to saw it hanging to its full length, it was so beautiful it took her New York. This particular visit which had just ended had been breath away. more than usually pleasant, and Mrs Bixby was feeling cheerful. She had never seen mink like this before. It was mink, wasn't But then the Colonel's company always made her feel cheerful it? Yes, of course it was. But what a beautiful colour! The fur was these days. The man had a way of making her feel that she was a almost pure black. At first, she thought it was black; but when she rather special woman. How very different from her dentist held it closer to the window, she saw that there was a touch of husband at home, who only succeeded in making her feel that blue in it as well, a deep rich blue. But what could it have cost? she was a sufferer from continuous toothache, someone who lived She hardly dared to think. Four, five, six thousand dollars? in the waiting room, silent among the magazines. Possibly more. 'The Colonel asked me to give you this,' a voice beside her She just couldn't take her eyes off it. Nor, for that matter, could said. She turned and saw Wilkins, one of the Colonel's servants, a she wait to try it on. Quickly she slipped off her own plain red small man with grey skin. He pushed a large, flat box into her coat. She was breathing fast now, she couldn't help it, and her eyes arms. were stretched very wide. But, oh God, the feel of that fur! The 'Good heavens!' she cried. 'What a big box! What is it, Wilkins? great black coat seemed to slide onto her almost by itself, like a Was there a message? Did he send me a message?' second skin. It was the strangest feeling! She looked into the 'No message,' the servant said, and he walked away. mirror. It was wonderful. Her whole personality had suddenly As soon as she was on the train, Mrs Bixby carried the box changed completely. She looked wonderful, beautiful, rich and into the Ladies' R o o m and locked the door. How exciting this sexy, all at the same time. And the sense of power that it gave her! was! A Christmas present from the Colonel. She started to undo In this coat she could walk into any place she wanted and people the string. 'I'll bet it's a dress,' she thought. 'It might even be two would come running around her like rabbits. The whole thing dresses. Or it might be a whole lot of beautiful underclothes. I was just too wonderful for words! won't look. I'll just feel around and try to guess what it is. I'll try Mrs Bixby picked up the envelope that was still lying in the to guess the colour as well, and exactly what it looks like. Also, box. She opened it and pulled out the Colonel's letter: how much it cost.' She shut her eyes and slowly lifted off the lid. Then she I once heard you saying that you were fond of mink so I got you this. I'm carefully put one hand into the box. There was some paper on told it's a good one. Please accept it with my sincere good wishes as a top; she could feel it and hear it. There was also an envelope or parting present. For my own personal reasons I shall not be able to see card of some sort. She ignored this and began feeling under the you any more. Goodbye and good luck. 26 27  Well! 'I've got to have this coat!' she said out loud. 'I've got to have Imagine that! this coat! I've got to have this coat!' Just when she was feeling so happy. Very well, my dear. You shall have the coat. But don't worry. No more Colonel. Sit still and keep calm and start thinking. You're a clever girl, aren't What a terrible shock. you? You've tricked him before. The man has never been able to She would miss him terribly. see much further than the end of his own instruments. So sit Slowly, Mrs Bixby began stroking the soft black fur of the coat. completely still and think. There's lots of time. She had lost one thing but gained another. Two and a half hours later, Mrs Bixby stepped off the train at She smiled and folded the letter, meaning to tear it up and Pennsylvania Station and walked quickly out into the street. She throw it out of the window. But while she was folding it, she was wearing her old red coat again now and was carrying the box noticed that there was something written on the other side: in her arms. She signalled for a taxi. 'Driver,' she said, 'do you know of a pawnbroker that's still fust tell them that nice generous aunt of yours gave it to you for open around here?' Christmas, The man behind the wheel looked back at her, amused. 'There are plenty of them in this area,' he answered. The smile on Mrs Bixby's face suddenly disappeared. 'Stop at the first one you see, then, will you please?' She got in 'The man must be crazy!' she cried. 'Aunt Maude doesn't have and was driven away. that sort of money. She couldn't possibly give me this.' Soon the taxi stopped outside a pawnbroker's shop. But if Aunt Maude didn't give it to her, then who did? 'Wait for me, please,' Mrs Bixby said to the driver, and she got Oh God! In the excitement of finding the coat and trying it out of the taxi and entered the shop. on, she had completely ignored this important detail. 'Yes?' the owner said from a dark place in the back of the shop. In a few hours she would be in New York. Ten minutes after 'Oh, good evening,' Mrs Bixby said. She began to untie the that she would be home, and her husband would be there to greet string around the box. 'Isn't it silly of me? I've lost my handbag, her; and even a man like Cyril, living in the dark world of tooth and as this is Saturday, all the banks are closed until Monday and decay and fillings and root treatments, would start asking a few I've simply got to have some money for the weekend. This is questions if his wife suddenly walked in from a weekend wearing quite a valuable coat, but I'm not asking much. I only want to a six-thousand-dollar mink coat. borrow enough on it to help me until Monday.' 'You know what I think,' she told herself. 'I think that Colonel The man waited and said nothing. But when she pulled out has done this on purpose just to drive me crazy. He knew the mink and allowed the beautiful thick fur to fall over the perfectly well that Aunt Maude didn't have enough money to counter, he came over to look at it. He picked it up and held it buy this. He knew I wouldn't be able to keep it,' she told herself. out in front of him. But the thought of parting with it now was more than Mrs 'If only I had a watch on me or a ring,' Mrs Bixby said,'I'd give Bixby could bear. you that instead. But I don't have a thing with me except this 28 29  coat.' She spread out her fingers for him to see. 'I don't want to sell it.' 'It looks new,' the man said, stroking the soft fur. 'You might have to. Lots of people do.' 'Oh, yes, it is. But, as I said, I only want to borrow enough 'Look,' Mrs Bixby said. 'I'm not poor, if that's what you mean. money to help me until Monday. How about fifty dollars?' I simply lost my bag. Don't you understand?' 'I'll lend you fifty dollars.' 'It's your coat,' the man said. 'It's worth a hundred times more than that, but I know you'll At this point, an unpleasant thought struck Mrs Bixby. 'Tell me take good care of it until I return.' something,' she said. 'If I don't have a description on my ticket, The man went over to a drawer and brought out a ticket and how can I be sure that you'll give me back the coat and not placed it on the counter. The ticket had a row of small holes something else when I return?' across the middle so that it could be torn in two, and both halves 'It goes in the books.' were exactly the same. 'But all I've got is a number. So actually, you could hand me 'Name?' he asked. any old thing you wanted, isn't that so?' 'Leave that out. And the address.' 'Do you want a description or don't you?' the man asked. She saw the man pause, and she saw the pen waiting over the 'No,' she said. 'I trust you.' dotted line. The man wrote 'fifty dollars' opposite the word 'Value' on 'You don't have to put the name and address, do you?' both parts of the ticket, then he tore it in half down the middle The man shook his head and the pen moved on down to the and gave one half to Mrs Bixby. Then he gave her five ten-dollar next line. notes. 'The interest is three per cent a month,' he said. 'It's just that. I'd rather not,' Mrs Bixby said. 'It's purely 'All right. Thank you. You'll take good care of it, won't you?' personal.' The man said nothing. 'You'd better not lose this ticket, then.' Mrs Bixby turned and went out of the shop onto the street 'I won't lose it.' where the taxi was waiting. Ten minutes later, she was home. 'Do you realize that anyone who gets hold of this ticket can 'Darling,' she said as she bent over and kissed her husband. 'Did come in and claim the coat?' you miss me?' 'Yes, I know that.' Cyril Bixby laid down the evening newspaper and looked at 'What do you want me to put for a description?' the watch on his wrist. 'It's twelve and a half minutes past six,' he 'No description either, thank you. It's not necessary. Just put said. 'You're a bit late, aren't you?' the amount I'm borrowing.' 'I know. It's those terrible trains. Aunt Maude sent you her love The pen paused again, waiting over the dotted line beside the as usual. I need a drink. What about you?' word 'Description'. Her husband folded his newspaper neatly and went over to the 'I think you ought to put a description. A description is always drinks' cupboard. His wife remained in the centre of the room, a help if you want to sell the ticket. You never know, you might watching him carefully, wondering how long she ought to wait. want to sell it sometime.' He had his back to her now, bending forward to measure the 30 31  drinks. He was putting his face right up close to the measurer and to show you this! I found it just now on the seat of my taxi. It's looking into it as though it were a patient's mouth. got a number on it, and I thought it might be worth having, so I 'See what I've bought for measuring the drinks,' he said, kept it.' holding up a measuring glass. 'I can get it to the nearest drop with She handed the small piece of stiff brown paper to her this.' husband, who took it in his fingers and began examining it 'Darling, how clever.' closely, as if it were a problem tooth. I really must try to make him change the way he dresses, she 'You know what this is?' he said slowly. told herself. His suits are just too silly. There had been a time 'No, dear, I don't.' when she thought they were wonderful, those old-fashioned 'It's a pawn ticket.' jackets and narrow trousers, but now they simply seemed silly. You 'A what?' had to have a special sort of face to wear things like that, and 'A ticket from a pawnbroker's. Here's the name and address of Cyril just didn't have it. It was a fact that in the office he always the shop.' greeted female patients with his white coat unbuttoned so that 'Oh dear, I am disappointed. I was hoping it might be a ticket they could see his clothes beneath; in some strange way this was for a horse race or something.' clearly meant to give the idea that he was a bit of a ladies' man. 'There's no reason to be disappointed,' Cyril Bixby said. 'As a But Mrs Bixby knew better. It meant nothing. matter of fact this could be rather amusing.' 'Thank you, darling,' she said, taking the drink and seating 'Why could it be amusing, darling?' herself in an armchair with her handbag on her knees. 'And what He began explaining to her exactly how a pawn ticket worked did you do last night?' and particularly that anyone possessing the ticket could claim 'I stayed on in the office and did some work. I got my accounts whatever it was. She listened patiently until he had finished. up to date.' 'You think it's worth claiming?' she asked. 'Now, really, Cyril, it's time you let other people do your 'I think it's worth finding out what it is. You see this figure of paperwork for you. You're much too important for that sort of fifty dollars that's written here? Do you know what it means?' thing.' 'No, dear, what does it mean?' 'I prefer to do everything myself.' 'It means that the thing in question is almost certain to be 'I know you do, darling, and I think it's wonderful. But I don't something quite valuable.' want you to get too tired. Why doesn't that Pulteney woman do 'You mean it'll be worth fifty dollars?' the accounts? That's part of her job, isn't it?' 'More like five hundred.' 'She does do them. But I have to decide on the prices first. She 'Five hundred!' doesn't know who's rich and who isn't.' 'Don't you understand?' he said. 'A pawnbroker never gives 'This drink is perfect,' Mrs Bixby said, setting down her glass you more than about a tenth of the real value.' on the side table. 'Quite perfect.' She opened her bag as if to look 'Good heavens! I never knew that.' for something. 'Oh, look!' she cried, seeing the ticket. 'I forgot 'There's a lot of things you don't know, my dear. Now you 32 33 listen to me. As there's no name and address of the owner...' 'I'd rather you didn't handle it, if you don't mind.' 'But surely there's something to say who it belongs to?' 'But Cyril, I found it. Whatever it is, it's mine, isn't that right?' 'Not a thing. People often do that. They don't want anyone to 'Of course it's yours, my dear. There's no need to get so know they've been to a pawnbroker. They're ashamed of it.' annoyed about it.' 'Then you think we can keep it?' 'I'm not. I'm just excited, that's all.' 'Of course we can keep it. This is now our ticket.' 'I suppose you haven't thought that this might be something 'You mean my ticket,' Mrs Bixby said firmly. 'I found it.' particularly male. It isn't only women that go to pawnbrokers, 'My dear girl, what does it matter? The important thing is that you know.' we are now in a position to go and claim it any time we like for 'In that case, I'll give it to you for Christmas,' Mrs Bixby said only fifty dollars. How about that?' generously. 'With pleasure. But if it's a woman's thing, I want it 'Oh, what fun!' she cried. 'I think it's very exciting, especially myself. Is that agreed?' when we don't even know what it is. It could be anything, isn't 'That sounds very fair. Why don't you come with me when I that right, Cyril? Anything at all!' collect it?' 'Certainly it could, although it's most likely to be either a ring Mrs Bixby was about to say yes to this, but stopped herself just or a watch.' in time. She had no wish to be greeted like an old customer by 'But wouldn't it be wonderful if it were something really the pawnbroker in her husband's presence. valuable?' 'No,' she said slowly. 'I don't think I will. You see, it'll be even 'We can't know what it is yet, my dear. We shall just have to more exciting if I stay here and wait. Oh, I do hope it isn't going wait and see.' to be something that neither of us wants.' 'I think it's wonderful! Give me the ticket and I'll rush over 'You've got a point there,' he said. 'If I don't think it's worth early on Monday morning and find out!' fifty dollars, I won't even take it.' 'I think I'd better do that.' 'But you said it would be worth five hundred.' 'Oh no!' she cried. 'Let me do it!' 'I'm quite sure it will. Don't worry.' 'I think not. I'll collect it on my way to work.' 'Oh, Cyril, I can hardly wait! Isn't it exciting?' 'But it's my ticket! Please let me do it, Cyril! Why should you 'It's amusing,' he said, slipping the ticket into his jacket pocket. have all the fun?' 'There's no doubt about that.' 'You don't know these pawnbrokers, my dear. You could get Monday morning came at last, and after breakfast Mrs Bixby cheated.' followed her husband to the door and helped him on with his 'I wouldn't get cheated, honestly I wouldn't. Give the ticket to coat. me, please.' 'Don't work too hard, darling,' she said. 'Home at six?' 'Also you have to have fifty dollars,' he said, smiling. 'You have 'I hope so.' to pay out fifty dollars in cash before they'll give it to you.' 'Are you going to have time to go to that pawnbroker?' she 'I've got that,' she said. 'I think.' asked. 34 35  'My God, I forgot all about it. I'll take a taxi and go there now. 'A diamond ring,' she said. It's on my way.' 'Wrong.' 'You haven't lost the ticket, have you?' 'What then?' 'I hope not,' he said, feeling in his jacket pocket. 'No, here. 'I'll help you. It's something you can wear.' it is.' 'Something I can wear? You mean like a hat?' 'And you have enough money?' 'No, it's not a hat,' he said, laughing. 'Yes.' 'Cyril! Why don't you tell me?' 'Darling,' she said, standing close to him and straightening his 'Because I want it to be a surprise. I'll bring it home with me tie, which was perfectly straight. 'If it happens to be something this evening.' nice, something you think I might like, will you telephone me as 'No you won't!' she cried. 'I'm coming right down there to get soon as you get to the office?' it now!' 'If you want me to, yes.' 'I'd rather you didn't do that.' 'You know, I'm hoping it'll be something for you, Cyril. I'd 'Don't be silly, darling. Why shouldn't I come?' much rather it was for you than for me.' 'Because I'm too busy. I'm half an hour behind already.' 'That's very generous of you, my dear. Now I must hurry.' 'Then I'll come in the lunch hour. All right?' About an hour later, when the telephone rang, Mrs Bixby was 'I'm not having a lunch hour. Oh, well, come at 1.30 then, across the room so fast she had the receiver to her ear before the while I'm having a sandwich. Goodbye.' first ring had finished. At half past one exactly, Mrs Bixby arrived at Mr Bixby's place 'I've got it!' he said. of business and rang the bell. Her husband, in his white dentist's 'You have! Oh, Cyril, what was it? Was it something good?' coat, opened the door himself. 'Good!' he cried. 'It's wonderful! You wait until you see this! 'Oh, Cyril, I'm so excited!' You'll faint!' 'So you should be. You're a lucky girl, did you know that?' He 'Darling, what is it? Tell me quickly.' led her down the passage and into his room. 'You're a lucky girl, that's what you are.' 'Go and have your lunch, Miss Pulteney,' he said to his 'It's for me, then?' secretary, who was busy putting instruments away. 'You can finish 'Of course it's for you, though I can't understand how the that when you come back.' He waited until the girl had gone, pawnbroker only paid fifty dollars for it. Someone's crazy.' then he walked over to a cupboard that he used for hanging up 'Cyril! Tell me! I can't bear it!' his clothes and stood in front of it, pointing with his finger. 'It's 'You'll go crazy when you see it.' in there,' he said. 'Now - shut your eyes.' 'What is it?' Mrs Bixby did as she was told. Then she took a deep breath and 'Try to guess.' held it, and in the silence that followed she could hear him Mrs Bixby paused. Be careful, she told herself. Be very careful opening the cupboard door, and there was a soft sound as he now. pulled something out from among the other things hanging there. 36 37  'AH right! You can look!' 'No, it isn't.' 'I don't dare to,' she said, laughing. 'You'd better leave it behind when you go shopping or they'll 'Go on. Have a look.' all think we're rich and start charging us double.' She opened one eye just a little, just enough to give her a dark 'I'll try to remember that, Cyril.' misty view of the man standing there in his white coat holding 'I'm afraid you mustn't expect anything else for Christmas. something up in the air. Fifty dollars was rather more than I was going to spend.' 'Mink!' he cried. 'Real mink!' He turned away and went over to the sink and began washing At the sound of the magic word she opened her eyes quickly, and his hands. 'Go and buy yourself a nice lunch now, my dear. I'd take at the same time she actually started forward in order to seize the you out myself, but I've got old man Gorman in the waiting coat in her arms. room. There's a problem with his false teeth.' But there was no coat. There was only a stupid little fur Mrs Bixby moved towards the door. neckpiece hanging from her husband's hand. I'm going to kill that pawnbroker, she told herself. I'm going 'Just look at that!' he said, waving it in front of her face. right back there to the shop this very minute and I'm going to Mrs Bixby put a hand up to her mouth and started backing throw this dirty neckpiece right in his face, and if he refuses to away. I'm going to scream, she told herself. I just know it. I'm give me back my coat I'm going to kill him. going to scream. 'Did I tell you that I was going to be late home tonight?' Cyril 'What's the matter, my dear? Don't you like it?' He stopped Bixby said, still washing his hands. 'It'll probably be at least 8.30 waving the fur and stood looking at her, waiting for her to say the way things look at the moment. It may even be nine.' something. 'Yes, all right. Goodbye.' Mrs Bixby went out, banging the 'Why, yes,' she said slowly. 'I... I... think it's... it's lovely... door shut behind her. really lovely.' At that moment, Miss Pulteney, the secretary, came sailing past 'It quite took your breath away for a moment, didn't it?' her down the passage on her way to lunch. 'Yes, it did.' 'Isn't it a beautiful day?' Miss Pulteney said as she went by, 'Very good quality,' he said. 'Fine colour, too. Do you know flashing a smile. She was walking in a very proud and confident how much this would cost in a shop? Two or three hundred manner, and she looked like a queen, just exactly like a queen in dollars at least.' the beautiful black mink coat that the Colonel had given to Mrs 'I don't doubt it.' Bixby. There were two skins, two narrow dirty-looking skins with their heads still on them and little feet hanging down. One of them had the end of the other in its mouth, biting it. 'Here,' he said. 'Try it on.' He leaned forward and hung the thing around her neck, then stepped back to admire it. 'It's perfect It really suits you. It isn't everyone who has mink, my dear.' 38 39  later years of their married life, it seemed almost as though he had wanted to miss the train, simply to increase the poor woman's T h e Way u p t o H e a v e n suffering. If the husband was guilty, what made his behaviour All her life, Mrs Foster had had such a strong fear of missing a doubly unreasonable was the fact that, with the exception of this train, a plane, a boat or even the start of a play that her fear was one small weakness, Mrs Foster was, and always had been, a good almost an illness. In other respects, she was not a particularly and loving wife. For over thirty years, she had served him loyally nervous woman, but just the thought of being late on occasions and well. There was no doubt about this. Even she knew it, and like these would throw her into a terrible state. As a result, a small although she had for years refused to let herself believe muscle in the corner of her left eye would begin to tremble. It that Mr Foster would ever consciously hurt her, there was not very much, but the annoying thing was that the problem had been times recently when she had begun to wonder. refused to disappear until an hour or so after the train or plane - Mr Eugene Foster, who was nearly seventy years old, lived or whatever it was — had been safely caught. with his wife in a large six-floor house in New York City, on East It is really strange how in certain people a simple fear about a 62nd Street, and they had four servants. It was a dark, cheerless thing like catching a train can grow into serious anxiety. At least place, and few people came to visit them. But on this particular half an hour before it was time to leave the house for the station, morning in January, the house had come alive and there was a Mrs Foster would step out of the lift all ready to go, and then, as great deal of activity. One servant was leaving piles of dustsheets she was unable to sit down, she would move about from room to in every room, while another was covering the furniture with room until her husband, who must have known about her state them. The butler was bringing down cases and putting them in of mind, finally joined her and suggested in a cool dry voice that the hall. The cook kept coming up from the kitchen to have a perhaps they had better go now, had they not? word with the butler, and Mrs Foster herself, in an old-fashioned Mr Foster may possibly have had a right to be annoyed by fur coat and a black hat, was running from room to room and this silliness of his wife's, but he could have had no excuse for pretending to organize these operations. Actually, she was increasing her anxiety by keeping her waiting unnecessarily. It thinking of nothing at all except the fact that she was going to is not, of course, certain that this is what he did, but whenever miss her plane if her husband didn't come out of his study soon they were going somewhere, his timing was so exact — just a and get ready. minute or two late, you understand — and his manner so calm 'What time is it, Walker?' she asked the butler as she passed that it was hard to believe that he was not purposely causing him. pain to the unhappy lady. He must have known that she would 'It's ten minutes past nine, madam.' never dare to call out and tell him to hurry. He had trained her 'And has the car come?' too well for that. He must also have known that if he was 'Yes, madam, it's waiting. I'm just going to put the luggage in prepared to wait just a little longer than was wise, he could now.' make her nearly crazy. On one or two special occasions in the 'It takes an hour to get to the airport,' she said. 'My plane leaves 40 41  at eleven. I have to be there half an hour before that to check in. And now, recently, she had come more and more to feel that I shall be late. I just know I'm going to be late.' she did not really wish to end her days in a place where she could 'I think you have plenty of time, madam,' the butler said kindly. not be near these children, and let them visit her, and take them 'I warned Mr Foster that you must leave at 9.15. There's still for walks, and buy them presents, and watch them grow. She another five minutes.' knew, o