The Strange Story of Linda Lee (17 page)

When he realised that she was not seriously injured,
his big, generous mouth relaxed into a wide smile; then he exclaimed, ‘Praises be! I feared I’d smashed you up real bad.’

Sitting up, she put a hand to her aching head. ‘No, no. I’ll be all right in a minute. And it was my fault. I shouldn’t have stepped out from behind those bushes without making certain that nothing was coming.’

He grinned. ‘I’m at least half to blame. Shouldn’t have taken that corner so quickly in a park like this where kids are always chasing one another. I’m terribly sorry.’

Having helped her to her feet, he turned away to collect the scattered oddments that had dropped out of her bag, while she brushed the fallen leaves and dust from her skirt. He had pulled up his car about thirty yards away. As he rejoined her, he pointed to it and said:

‘Least I can do is to give you a lift home, or to wherever you were going.’

‘I was only going for a walk, up to Prospect Point. I haven’t been that far yet.’

‘You a stranger here, then?’

‘Yes. I’m from England.’ Linda was still a little dazed and the admission slipped out before she had fully recovered her wits.

‘Are you now? Well, I’m a stranger in these parts too. I come from Montreal and as I’d never been out west I thought I’d take my vacation here. Friends told me this park was well worth seeing, so I was just driving around. What say I run you up to Prospect Point and we take a look at the view together?’

Linda did not hesitate. She thought the tall, broad-shouldered, black-haired man who was smiling at her decidedly attractive. Returning his smile, she replied, ‘Why not? I’d like to do that.’

Two minutes later they were in his Cadillac. As he let in the clutch, he said, ‘My name’s Big Bear Orson. What’s yours?’

‘Lucille Harrison. But surely your Christian name isn’t really Big Bear?’

‘It sure is. Thought you would have guessed from the tint of my skin and my beak of a nose that I’ve got Indian blood. The rest of my family are as white as you; but I’m a throwback. I was christened Isaiah. But I didn’t like it, so when I was a kid, and we used to play Injuns and Cowboys, I gave myself the name of a chief who was my ancestor, and somehow it’s stuck to me.’

When they reached the Point they sat in the car for a few minutes admiring the great Lion Gate suspension bridge that spans the narrows of Burrard Inlet, and the mile-long line of wharves along the shore of North Vancouver. Then, turning his head in the other direction, he said:

‘That’s a coffee joint back there. You must need a little something after your fall. Let’s go over.’

In the ladies’ room of the little restaurant Linda re-did her face. Her headache was already subsiding and she had suffered no damage except a slight abrasion on the forehead, which she was able to powder over.

When they were seated at one of the little tables, he asked her how she liked Canada.

‘This part of it is lovely,’ she replied, ‘and Vancouver is a splendid city. But I wouldn’t like to live in the wheat belt or one of the smaller towns, like Calgary. The people are nice. I mean the taxi-drivers, waiters, shop assistants and so on. They couldn’t be more friendly and helpful. But the licensing laws are suitable only for children, and I find that very surprising, seeing that Canada has such strong connections with France.
Even here all the signs are dual-language, and while one would have expected that in Quebec, it’s strange to find it in the far west.’

‘There’s no great number of French in Alberta or B.C., but plenty of French-Canadians come here from the east, and some of them speak only French. That’s why in these parts they have “
Messieurs
” as well as “
Gents’
” written up on the johns. You’re right about the liquor laws, though. Place like this ought to be a proper café.’

Linda smiled. ‘I wish it were. I don’t usually drink anything until the evening, unless I’m lunching in a restaurant, but after my fall I could have done with something stronger than coffee.’

‘Fair enough, and that’s given me an idea. It’s close on midday. How say we beat it back to the city? Let me give you lunch, and everything that goes with it.’

‘Well, that’s very nice of you.’ Linda hesitated only so as not to appear too eager. ‘Yes, why not? I’d like to do that.’

On their way back through the park they passed some gaily painted Indian totem poles and Big Bear told Linda that they were not just a form of idol. The eagle represented the genius of air, the wolf that of land, the whale that of the sea and the frog the link between earth and water.

They lunched in the Timber Room at the Vancouver Hotel. Big Bear said he was staying at the hotel because it was the best in the city. Over an excellent meal he told her about himself. He was the managing director of one of the biggest advertising agencies in Canada. He enjoyed his work because it meant always being right on the ball. Constantly to produce new ideas that would boost his clients’ sales entailed a
knowledge of every public activity and new trend that developed in fashion, food, entertainment and general behaviour. When he asked her what she did, she shrugged.

‘I’m afraid I’m just a drone.’

At that he gave her a speculative look. She laughed and shook her head. ‘No, I’m not a
poule de luxe
, as the French call it. I’m quite respectable, but I’ve never earned my living.’

He glanced at her hand. ‘It’s rare these days to meet an unmarried girl who doesn’t do some kind of job.’

On the way from the park and while he was parking his car Linda had had sufficient time to think out what she would tell him about herself, and she said, ‘I am married—in a way. But I’ve left my husband. The last time I saw him we had a blinding row and I flung my wedding ring at him.’

‘Then you’re by way of getting divorced?’

‘Yes, but how long it will take I don’t know. We had been married only a few months, so it would be the best part of three years before we could get a decree for incompatibility; and I’ve no evidence against him or he against me, so it’s stalemate. His parents are very rich and he is dependent on them. They have never liked me, and are anxious to have me out of his life so that he can marry again. But they are old-fashioned in their views about divorce, and feel that it would be a stigma against him if he gave me grounds and became the guilty party. Their hope is that I will get tired of being on my own, so take a boy friend, and I discovered that they had engaged detectives to watch me. That meant that I couldn’t even have a drink in a man’s flat without becoming compromised. Being tailed everywhere made
me feel so awful that I decided to leave England and come to Canada.’

‘They could employ a “private eye” to keep tags on you here.’

Linda shook her head. ‘No. The only address they have is a bank to which my husband sends me a monthly allowance. And I’m living under another name in quite an obscure hotel not far from the park. But what about you? Are you married?’

‘No, no,’ he grinned. ‘I love ’em all a little bit.’

‘You obviously have plenty of money, so I suppose you have pleasant bachelor quarters.’

‘The best ever. I’ve a suite in Montreal’s Ritz-Carlton Hotel.’

‘That must cost you a pretty penny.’

‘It’s not cheap, but it pays off in the long run. Time is money in my game, and I have to do a lot of entertaining anyway. If I had an apartment I’d have to have a housekeeper, tell her what I wanted for meals, fend for myself when she had her day off, use part of my secretary’s time checking up on dozens of bills and making phone calls about one thing and another. As it is, I’m on the spot when I ask people to lunch or dinner, take my pick of a first-class menu, have myself valeted and my washing done, never have to bother with plumbers, electricians or garbage disposal, get day and night service all the week through and, at the end of it, pay for the whole shooting match with one cheque. Added to that, as a permanent resident I get special terms.’

‘Then you’re certainly getting value for your money,’ Linda agreed. ‘How long are you here on holiday?’

‘Another eight days. How long do you figure to stay?’

‘I’ve no plans at all at the moment.’

‘Then how about seeing something of each other? I’ve no friends here ’cept our Vancouver agent, Dave Kane, and his wife Judith. They’re a grand couple and have a nice home up in the Shaughnessy district. I’ve been out there twice to dinner and had them here; and Judith’s twice taken me for drives round about. But I can’t live in their pockets. What say to your taking pity on a poor, lone Redskin brave?’

Linda laughed. ‘What nonsense. You are no more a Redskin than an Englishman would be if he had spent a few weeks sunbathing in the West Indies, and plenty of Romans had noses as big and curved as yours. But I know nobody here either, except the people in my hotel. They are dreary beyond belief, and I go out of my way to avoid them.’

‘Dinner tonight then, eh? We’ll dine up in the roof restaurant here. The view is quite something. I’ll run you back to your hotel now and call for you round seven o’clock. O.K.?’

‘That would be lovely. It will be my first evening out since I arrived in Canada. When you call for me, remember my name is Harrison.’

‘I sure will, Lucille, and my lucky star was certainly in the ascendant when I went driving through the park this morning.’

Linda spent the rest of the afternoon lying on her bed, thinking about her new acquaintance. She felt that her lucky star also had been in the ascendant that day. Apart from the fact that she might have been killed or injured, the chances against her being knocked down by a youngish man—she judged Big Bear to be in his early thirties—who was not only good-looking, amusing and rich, but also on holiday and obviously attracted to her, were thousands to one against. What fun it would
be to dine with him and once more enjoy the best of everything.

The evening proved fully up to Linda’s expectations. She had put on one of her best dresses for the occasion, and Big Bear caught his breath in admiration when he saw her. The Vancouver roof restaurant consisted of a very long bar on one side and a much wider restaurant on the other. From a window table they had a wonderful view of the lights of the city, and the cuisine proved excellent. As a main dish her host suggested Alaska crab, which she had never before eaten. It proved to be a number of giant crab legs which the waiter cracked at the table, then poured hot butter on them.

Linda found them absolutely delicious, but was surprised that Big Bear should have ordered a Canadian white wine to drink with them, as for lunch with their tournedos he had given her an excellent French claret. As it was poured, she said:

‘I didn’t know that any wines were grown so far north as Canada, and I’ve been told that there is very little good wine made in the United States except in California.’

He smiled. ‘Over lunch I tumbled to it that you were quite a connoisseur. That’s why I’d like to know what you think of this. It’s our Domain St. Martin and comes from the north side of Niagara Falls.’

It had been well iced and she found it to resemble a fine, medium-dry Sauterne, but it had the added attraction of a faint bouquet of violets. Linda raised her well-arched eyebrows:

‘But it’s real nectar. Why ever don’t we have it in England?’

‘I wouldn’t know. Maybe duties and freight make it too expensive; but it’s reasonable enough here.’

Afterwards he took her to the Gold Room, downstairs in the New Penthouse Night Club. There was a very good cabaret and she found him an excellent dancer. So much so that she completely forgot the time until she happened to glance at her watch and found it was getting on for two o’clock.

In sudden panic she said she must go home at once, as she felt sure that a small hotel like the Astley normally closed at midnight, and she would have to knock someone up to let her in.

‘Oh, come!’ Big Bear protested. ‘This joint stays open until four. If someone has got to get out of bed to let you in anyhow, what does another hour or two matter?’ But Linda insisted on leaving at once.

When he drew up in front of the Astley, all the lights in the hotel were out. As she thanked him for a lovely evening he drew her to him and kissed her. She willingly opened her mouth, but when he tried to go further she broke the kiss, pushed his hand away and said firmly, ‘No! That’s enough for now,’ and scrambled out of the car.

As she ran across the pavement he called after her, ‘See you tomorrow. Pick you up round about midday.’

She had to ring the bell three times before a light appeared. A few minutes later Mr. Burnaby opened the front door. As Big Bear was still outside in his car waiting to see her safely inside, it was obvious that her lateness had not been caused by an accident, so to her apology he replied only with a surly, ‘Fine time o’ night to come in.’

The following morning Linda slept late and at eleven o’clock, while she was doing her hair, there came a knock at her door. On her calling ‘Come in,’ the
usually pleasant Mrs. Burnaby came in and said dourly:

‘Miss Harrison, our custom here is to lock up at eleven o’clock. That is quite late enough for respectable people, except on special occasions, and then I am quite willing to lend permanent residents a key. But you do not qualify for that yet. Another thing. We expect our guests to be out of their rooms at the latest by ten o’clock, in order that my two women can do the beds. Unless you are prepared to conform, I shall have to ask you to find other accommodation.’

Linda said she was deeply sorry to have got Mr. Burnaby out of bed, and left it at that, reluctantly realising that if she was to continue going out with Big Bear she would have to move to a bigger hotel with a night porter, which would be much more expensive.

At midday Big Bear picked her up and took her across the peninsula to Cardero Street, at the end of which lay the S.S.
Princess Louise II
, originally the passenger ship
Lady Alexander
that, at the cost of a million dollars, had been converted into a floating restaurant. From the restaurant there was a fine view of Vancouver harbour and, beyond it, the mountains on the western skyline.