(1941) Up at the Villa (6 page)

She freed herself again.

`Good-bye for ever, my dear.
I'm
leaving here very soon - in three or four days, I expect.’

It seemed difficult to say what she had to say.

`We can't see one another any more. You see, I'm not
free.’

`Are you married? They told me you were a widow.’

It would have been easy to lie. She did not know what
prevented her. She hedged.

`What did you think I meant when I said I wasn't free? I
tell you it's impossible we should ever meet again. You don't want to ruin my
life, do you?’

`But I must see you again.
Once more,
only once more.
Or else I shall die.’

`My dear, don't be unreasonable. I tell you it's
impossible. When we part now we part for ever.’

`But I love you. Don't you love me?' She hesitated a
moment. She did not want to be unkind, but thought it necessary at that moment
to tell the plain truth. She shook her head and smiled a little.

`No.’

He stared at her as if he didn't understand.

`Then why did you take me?’

`You were lonely and miserable. I wanted to give you a
few moments' happiness.’

`Oh, how cruel!
How monstrously cruel!’

` Her voice broke.

`Don't say that. I didn't mean to be cruel. My heart was
full of tenderness and pity.’

`I never asked for your pity. Why didn't you leave me
alone? You have shown me heaven and now you want to thrust me back to earth.
No. No. No. He seemed to grow in stature as he flung the words at her. There
was something tragic in his indignation. She was vaguely impressed. It had
never occurred to her that he would take it like that.

`Perhaps I've been very stupid,' she said.

`I didn't want to hurt you.’

There was no love in his eyes now, but cold, sullen
anger. His white face had gone whiter still and it was like a death mask. It
made her uneasy. She knew now what a fool she'd been. The servants slept far
away and if she screamed they would not hear her. Idiot, idiot that she was!
The only thing was to keep her head and not show him that she was frightened.

`I'm terribly sorry,' she faltered.

`I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. If there's anything
I can do to make up I'll only be too glad to do it' He frowned darkly.

`What are you doing now? Are you offering me money? I
don't want your money. How much money have you got here?' She took her bag
which was on the dressing-tables and as she put her hand in felt the revolver.
It gave her a start. She had never fired one in her life. Oh, it was nonsense
to suppose it would come to that
But
thank God she had
it. Dear Edgar, he hadn't been such an old donkey after all. The inconsequent
thought flashed through her mind that it was not with the idea of her ever
finding herself in such a situation that he had forced it on her. Even at that
moment the idea amused her and she regained her self-possession.

`I've got two or three thousand lire. It would be enough
to get you into Switzerland. You'd be safer there. Believe me, I shan't miss it.’

`Of course you won't miss it. You're rich, aren't you?
You're rich enough to pay for the pleasure of a night's fun. D'you always
have
to pay for your lovers? If I wanted money d'you think
I'd be satisfied with a few lire? I should take the pearls you wore, and the
bracelets you had on your arm.

`You can have them, too, if you want them. They mean
nothing to me. They're on the dressing-table. Take them.’

`You vile woman.
Are you so vile
that you think any man can be bought off at a price? You
fool,
if money had meant so much to me don't you think I could have made terms with
the Nazis? I didn't need to be an outcast. I didn't need to starve.’

`My God, why can't I make you understand? I meant to do
you a kindness, you seem to think I've done you harm. I want to make up for the
harm. If I've offended you, if I've hurt you, I ask your forgiveness. I only
wanted your good.’

`You lie.
An idle, sensual, worthless
woman.
What good have .you ever done in your life. I wonder? You go
about seeking excitement, new experiences, anything to cheat your boredom, and
you don't care what injury you cause to others. But this time you've made a
mistake. It's a risk to take strange men into one's house. I took you for a
goddess and you're just a whore. It would be a good thing, maybe, if I
strangled you to prevent you from hurting others as you've hurt me. I could,
you know. Who would ever suspect me? Who saw me coming into this house?'

He took a step towards her. She was seized with panic. He
looked sinister and menacing. His gaunt face was distorted with hatred and
those dark deep-set eyes flashed. She made an effort at self-control. She was
still holding the bag in her hand; she snatched the revolver and pointed it at
him.

`If you don't go at once I shall
fire!’
she
cried.

`Fire, then.’

He took another step towards her.

`If you come an inch nearer I shall shoot’

`Shoot. Do you think life means anything to me? You will
be robbing me of an intolerable burden. Shoot and I'll forgive you everything.
I love you!'

His face was transfigured. The sullen rage was wiped
clean off it and his great black eyes shone with exaltation. He came towards
her, his head thrown
back,
his arms outspread,
offering his breast to her aim.

`You can say a thief broke into your room and you shot
him dead.
Quick, quick!'

She let the revolver fall from her hand and throwing
herself into a chair hid her face and burst into a passion of tears. He looked
at her for a moment.

'Hadn't you the courage?
Poor child.
How stupid you are, how terribly stupid.
You mustn't
play with men as you played with me. Come.’

He put his arms round her and tried to lift her to her
feet. She did not know what he wanted and, still sobbing bitterly, clung to the
chair. He hit her hand roughly, so that, crying out with the pain, she let go
instinctively; with a swift gesture he picked her up, carried her across the
room and roughly threw her down on the bed. He flung himself beside her, took
her in his arms and covered her face with kisses. She tried to get away from
him, but he would not let her go. He was strong, much stronger than he looked;
and she was powerless in his firm grasp. At last she ceased to resist.

A few minutes later he got up. She was shattered. He
stood at the side of the bed looking down at her.

`You asked me not to forget you. I shall forget, but you
won't'

 
She did not stir.
She glared at him with terrified eyes. He gave a little harsh laugh.

`Don't be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you.’

She said nothing. Unable to withstand the anger of his
cruel stare, she closed her eyes. She heard him move stealthily about the
darkened room. Suddenly she heard a report and then the sound of a fall. It
brought her to her feet with a shriek of dismay.

`God, what have you done?' He was lying in front of the
window, with the moonlight pouring down on him. She flung herself down on her
knees beside him and called him by his name.

`Karl, Karl, what have you done?'

She took him by the hand and when she dropped it, it fell
with a lifeless thud on the floor. She put her hand on his face and on his
heart. He was dead. She fell back on her heels and stared at the body with
terror. Her mind went blank. She did not know what to do. Her head swam and she
was afraid she was going to faint.

Suddenly she started, for she had heard a pattering in
the passage, the patter of bare feet; then it stopped and she knew that there
was someone outside the door, listening. She stared at it in a panic. There was
a soft little knock. She was trembling violently, and it was only by a violent
effort that she choked down the scream that came to her lips. She sat there, on
the floor, as still as the dead man by her side. The knock was repeated. She
forced herself to speak.

`Yes, what is it?’

`Are you all right, Signora?" It was Nina's voice.

`I thought I heard a bang.’

Mary, clenching her hands, dug her nails into her palms
in order to force herself to speak naturally.

`You must have been dreaming. I heard nothing. Go to bed.’

`Very well, Signora.’

There was a moment's pause, and then she heard the bare
feet pattering away again. As though she could follow the sound with her eyes,
Mary, turning her head, followed it down the passage. She had spoken
instinctively to give herself time to gather her wits together. She sighed
deeply. But something had to be done. She leant over to look once more at the
Austrian. She shuddered. Getting on to her feet again, she put her hands under
the dead man's arms and tried to drag him out of the window. She hardly knew
what she was doing; it was some blind impulse that led her to want somehow to
get him out of the room. But the body was heavy. She gave a gasp of anguish;
she felt as weak as a rat. Now she couldn't think what to do. Suddenly it
occurred to her that it had been madness to send Nina away. How could she
explain that, with that man lying dead in the room, she had said there was
nothing the matter? Why had she said that she had heard no sound when he had
shot himself within those four walls? A confused rush of all the terrible
difficulties of her position swirled in her head like a whirlpool.
And the shame.
The dishonour.
And
what answer could she give when they asked her why he had killed himself? The
only thing she could do was to tell the truth; and the truth was vile. It was
awful to be alone there without anyone to help her and tell her what to do. In
her distraction she felt she must see someone. Help, help, she must have help.
Rowley.
He was the only person she could think of. She was
sure he would come if she asked him. He liked her, he said he loved her, and,
bad lot as he was, he was a good sort; at all events he'd give her advice. But
it was so late. How could she expect to get hold of him like that, in the
middle of the night? But she couldn't wait till
daybreak,
nothing would be any good unless it were done at once.

There was a phone by her bed. She knew the number because
Edgar had stayed at the same hotel and she had often called him. She dialed it.
At first there was no reply and then an Italian voice answered. Presumably it
was a night porter whom she had roused out of a stolen nap. She asked to be put
through to Rowley's room. She could hear the bell ringing, but there was no
answer. For a moment she was terrified, thinking that he was out; he might have
gone somewhere after he left her, to gamble or, being what he was, he might
have found some woman and gone home with her. She gave a sigh of relief when
she heard a cross, sleepy voice.

`Yes. What is it?”

‘Rowley.
It's me. Mary. I'm in
frightful trouble.’

She suddenly felt that he was wide awake. He gave a
little chuckle.

`Late to get into trouble, isn't it? What's it all about?’

`I can't tell you. It's serious. I want you to come here.’

`When?”

‘Now.
At once.
As soon as you can.
For God's sake.’

He heard the quaver in her voice.

`Of course I'll come. Don't worry.’

What a comfort those two words were. She put down the
receiver. She tried to think how long he'd be. It was more than three miles,
much of it uphill, from the hotel to her villa. At that hour he wouldn't be
likely to get a taxi; if he had to walk it would take him nearly an hour. In an
hour it would be dawn. She could not wait in the room. It was horrible. She
changed quickly from the wrap she was wearing into a dress. She turned out the
light, unlocked the door, very cautiously in order not to make a sound, and
slipped into the passage; she opened the front door and walked down the
monumental stairway that led to the drive, then along the drive, keeping in the
shade of the trees that lined it - for the moon, which before had filled her
with such rapture, now, by the light it gave, terrified her - till she came to the
gates. Here she stood. She was sick at heart when she thought of the
interminable time she must still wait. But suddenly she heard footsteps, and
panic-stricken she cowered back into the shadows. It was someone coming up the
steep flight of steps which led from the bottom of the hill to the villa and
which till the road had been made was its on],,, means of access. Whoever it
was, was coming to the villa and seemed to hurry. A man came out of the
darkness and she saw it was Rowley. Her relief was overwhelming.

`Thank God, you've come. How did you get here so quickly?’

`The night porter was asleep, so I borrowed his bike.
I've hidden it at the bottom. I thought I'd get here more quickly by the steps.’

`Come.’

He peered into her face.

`I say, what's the matter? You look like hell.’

She shook her head. She couldn't tell him. She seized his
arm and walked quickly back to the house.

`Be as quiet as you can,' she whispered when they got
inside.

`Don't speak.’

She led him to her room. She opened the door and he
followed her in. She closed and locked it. For a moment she could not bring
herself to turn on the light, but there was no help for it. She touched the
switch. A great chandelier hung from the ceiling and at once the room was
brilliantly alight. Rowley gave a violent start when his eyes fell on the body
of a man lying on the floor near one of the two big windows.

`My God!' he cried. He turned and stared at
her
.`
What
does it mean?’