Under the Net (17 page)

I tore open the envelope, my fingers trembling with fear and clumsiness. The letters danced and shifted in front of my eyes. When at last they settled down what I read was the following short message:
I want to see you urgently. Please come to the Theatre
. My head was in my hands. I started to groan.

‘What is it?' asked Dave.

‘Get me a taxi,' I groaned to him.

‘I feel just as bad as you do,' said Dave. ‘Get your own bloody taxi.'

So I got up and went away, taking the flowers with me, and leaving Dave on the doorstep leaning against the door with his eyes closed.

I found a taxi in the Strand and told it to drive me to Hammersmith. My heart was beating out the refrain
too late
. I sat forward all the way and the stems of the flowers were breaking in my hand. We were nearly there before I noticed how deeply I had impaled myself upon the roses. I mopped the blood with my shirt sleeve, which was still muddy from last night. I dismissed the taxi at Hammersmith Town Hall, and walked down towards the river. I found myself reeling against walls as I went along, and there was a pain in my heart that almost stopped my breath. There was the Theatre. But something strange was going on. The door was open. I quickened my pace. Two or three lorries stood outside. I bounded into the hall, and as I did my feet rang upon an uncarpeted floor. I flew up the stairs, scarcely touching the boards, and flung myself into Anna's room.

The room was completely bare. It took me a moment to be quite sure that it was indeed the same room. The whole multicoloured chaos was gone, and of it not a spangle, not a silken thread remained. The room had been stripped and swept. The windows stood wide open upon the river. Only in the far comer were a pair of trestle tables with a pile of papers upon them. I stood there sick with amazement. Then I stepped back on to the landing. It was clear that the transformation had affected the whole house. It hummed and creaked and echoed. I could hear voices in several of the rooms and heavy boots striking on bare boards. Doors were banging. Through every window there came in the busy murmur of the summer morning. Violent hands had been laid upon the house; it had been violated. With a sudden impulse I approached the door of the auditorium. I shook it, but it was still locked. Whatever secret the heart of that strange building had contained here at least it could, for a while longer, brood upon it still.

A cheerful-looking girl in blue jeans came up the stairs whistling. When she saw me standing there she said, ‘Oh, have you come for the retail trade figures?'

I stared at her like a maniac, and after a moment she said, ‘Sorry, I thought you were the man from the Paddington group.'

‘I was looking for one of the Theatre people,' I said.

‘Oh, I'm afraid they've all gone away,' said the girl. She went into Anna's room.

I was still standing there, clutching the banisters with one hand and an armful of flowers with the other, when two men in corduroys passed me carrying a large wooden board. Upon the board were painted the letters NISP.

I found myself out in the street. Two more lorries had drawn up. I began to walk along the road parallel to the river. When I was level with the last lorry, one of the ones that had been there when I arrived, something inside it caught my eye. I paused and came closer. Then I was filled by a strange emotion. What the lorry contained was the contents of Anna's room. Inside this enormous box, only just held in by the high tail-board, were piled higgledy-piggledy all the treasures that I remembered. I took a quick look round. No one was watching. And in a moment I had clambered over the tail-board and slipped flowers and all, amid a rain of falling petals, into a yielding mass of toys and textiles. I looked about me. All my old friends were there: the rocking horse, the stuffed snake, the thundersheet, the masks. I looked at them all and I was filled with sorrow. As the harsh sunlight blazed in upon them they seemed but a soiled and broken chaos. The mysterious order which had reigned over their confusion in the theatre room, and which had flowed so gently and naturally from the presence of Anna in their midst, had been withdrawn. They lay now awkwardly one against another, lengthwise and corner-wise, and their magic had departed.

As I was looking at them there was a sudden jolt and the lorry started. I was pitched forward, bruising my cheek upon something hard, while a cascade of miscellaneous objects nearly buried me in the belly of the vehicle. I lay still for a while where I was, my face stuck close up against one of the leering masks, while the mouth of a tin trumpet bored into my back. Then slowly I shook myself free. The lorry was going along King Street. I wondered to myself if there was any possibility that if I stayed in it it would take me to Anna. But I felt on reflection extremely sure that it wouldn't. These things had the air of abandoned things, and it was more likely that they were bound for the warehouse of some auctioneer. I began slowly and sadly to pick them over, recognizing and saluting each one; and as I did so I crumbled the flowers too, spreading the petals of roses and peonies upon the gimcrack heap, with a sense that I was strewing the grave of some strange enterprise.

I was stooping to disentangle my foot from a glass necklace, when something caught my eye upon the neck of the rocking-horse, which was lying on its side half submerged in the pile. Attached to the rein there was an envelope. With startled anxiety I looked more closely. On the outside of the envelope was written the letter J. I unpinned it and with breathless haste unfolded the sheet of paper which was inside. It read:
I'm sorry I couldn't wait any longer. I have had an offer which although I don't like it I feel I have to accept
. Anna. I looked upon this, stunned, and a load of misery shifted grinding in my heart. What did it mean? Oh, why had I not come earlier! What was this offer? Perhaps Hugo ... I wrenched my feet free from their entanglements, scattering a sharp rain of glass beads which pattered about and finally sank into holes and pockets in the swaying mountain. Amid a rending of silks I got to my knees and worked my way towards the tail-board. We were just passing the Albert Hall.

I took a last slow look at Anna's things. Half hidden by a striped shawl I saw the gilt coronet with which I had crowned her queen of her own silent and coloured domain. I thrust my hand through the circle of the coronet, pulled it up on to my arm, and then prepared to jump. The lorry was slowing down for the traffic lights at Knightsbridge. As I got unsteadily to my feet I saw the thundersheet which was balancing awkwardly with one of its corners boring deep into the mass. I reached out and shook it with all my strength. Then I jumped. As the lorry gathered speed and turned into the Brompton Road the uncanny sound was echoing about the crossroads, making everybody stop to stare and listen. With its rumbling still in my ears I walked into Hyde Park, fell flat upon the grass, and almost immediately fell asleep.

I AWOKE what seemed to be days later and found that in fact it was only half past eleven. It took me some time to remember why I was feeling so miserable, and I looked for several minutes at the gilt crown, which I had been clutching in my hand while I slept, without being able to recall what it was or how I came to be holding it. When the sorrowful events of the more recent past came back to me I set myself to wondering what I ought to do next. The first thing seemed to be to get myself as far as a chemist and take something for my headache. I did this. Then I quenched my raging thirst at a water fountain. The quenching of thirst is so exquisite a pleasure that it is a scandal that no amount of ingenuity can prolong it. After that I sat on a bench at Hyde Park Comer rubbing my head, and trying to make a plan.

It was by now perfectly clear to me that my previous pattern of life was gone forever. I can take a hint from the fates. What new pattern would in due course emerge I had no means of telling. Meanwhile there were certain problems which would undoubtedly give me no rest until I had at least made some attempt to solve them. I was tempted to set off again then and there for Holborn Viaduct. But on second thoughts I decided that I had better collect my wits a little before attempting to face Hugo. I was still feeling very strange. In any case it was unlikely that Hugo would be at home during the day. The former argument bore equally against my trying to find him at the studio. I had better spend the day quietly, sleep in the afternoon perhaps, and then start again hunting for Hugo. I would have much preferred to look for Anna. But I had no idea now where to start looking. Also I wanted to lay quickly to rest the terrible suspicion that where I found Hugo now I would also find Anna. This idea didn't bear thinking about and so I didn't think about it.

I then began to reflect at greater length upon the drama of the last few days, and as I did so I remembered with annoyance that in my agitation at leaving Sadie's flat I had failed to bring away with me the copy of
The Silencer
which I had resolved to confiscate for my own use. The more I thought about this the more it annoyed me. It remained to be seen whether I would ever again be able to hold a conversation with Hugo ; but in any case it seemed to me that it was time for me to reassess the dialogue and decide whether it contained anything that was fit for salvage. One cannot, I felt, be so prodigal with one's past. The man who had written that curious work still lived within me and might yet write other things. It was clear that
The Silencer
was a piece of unfinished business.

Where could I get a copy? It was no use trying libraries or bookshops. The most sensible thing was to go back to Sadie's and fetch the copy from there. I didn't want to meet Sadie again. But then it was very unlikely that she would be at home. As for getting in, I could get in the way that Finn had got in. When I had thought, this out it seemed to be an excellent plan. I would be doing something which was both important and absorbing, and that would keep me from worrying about Anna and Hugo. When I had quite decided this I took a seventy-three bus to Oxford Street, put Anna's crown in the Left Luggage office at Oxford Circus, drank a great deal of black coffee, and bought a packet of hairpins at Woolworths.

I am the sort of man who will prefer to walk for twenty minutes rather than wait five minutes at a bus stop for a five-minute bus ride. When I am worrying about something inactivity and waiting become a torment. But as soon as some practical scheme, however hopeless, is on foot I am content again, and shut my eyes to everything else. So as I strode now along Welbeck Street I felt that I was doing something useful, and although my heart, as well as my head, was aching, I was by no means in a frenzy. I turned off the street, and sloping along the back alley, easily identified Sadie's fire escape. I padded up, fumbling for my hairpin. I hoped the thing would be easy.

As I approached Sadie's door, however, I heard voices which were undoubtedly coming from her kitchen. This was a disappointment. I stood irresolute. It occurred to me that the speakers might be the char and her friend and that they might be persuaded to let me in. I walked up a step or two and thought that I caught the tones of Sadie's voice — and I was just going to go away when I heard somebody utter Hugo's name. Some spirit told me that this concerned me. I thought there might be no harm in hearing a bit more. So I ascended until, standing upright a few steps from Sadie's landing, my head was just below the level of the frosted glass of the door. There was laughter masculine and feminine. Then I heard Sadie's voice say, ‘Those who don't keep correspondence are as wax in the hands of those who do!' There was more laughter, and a sound as of the clinking of ice in glasses. After that the masculine voice replied. I didn't hear what it said because I was too electrified by recognizing it. It belonged to Sammy.

I sat down on the steps and knitted my brows. So Sammy was a friend of Sadie's, was he? I knew instinctively that the two of them were up to no good, and I felt a pang of concern for Madge. It was no use, however, my trying to think it all out on the spot, especially with the head that I still had. The only thing to do was to record a few more impressions. There would be time for thinking later. I found that, sitting down, I was just out of earshot; and standing up was exhausting, especially if I was in for a long session. So I crawled up the last two or three steps on to Sadie's landing and sat down cross-legged with my back against Sadie's door. Here I was within a couple of feet of the speakers, but safe from observation unless they should happen to open the door; which naturally I hoped they wouldn't do.

Sadie was saying, ‘We must catch him as soon as he reaches London. He's the sort of person who likes to be presented with a
fait accompli
. It's just a matter of seizing the initiative.'

Sammy replied, ‘Do you think he'll play?'

Sadie said, ‘Either he will or he won't. If he won't there's no harm done, and if he will ...'

‘If he will,' said Sammy, ‘stand by for the moon!'

They laughed again. They were perhaps a bit drunk. They were certainly
tête-à-tête.

‘You're sure Belfounder won't make trouble?' Sammy asked then.

‘I tell you it's a gentleman's agreement,' said Sadie.

‘And you're no gentleman!' said Sammy. And he nearly choked himself laughing.

By now it was clear to me that I had done right to eavesdrop. If ever two people were plotting something, Sadie and Sammy were. But what was it all about? Who was it who had to be caught in London? What did make sense was this, that Sadie was engaged in double-crossing Hugo, doubtless because she was jealous of his preference for Anna. I must hear more, I thought, and sat there with my eyes popping out. But as I did so I noticed something rather annoying. The back of Sadie's house was close to the back of a house in the next street. In fact the two houses might be said to overlook each other. The opposite house had a fire escape which was the twin of Sadie's, and between these two erections was a distance of only some fifteen feet. Now my eavesdropping position necessitated my staring straight into one of the rooms of this house. That is, my head had been turned more or less in that direction, though I had been far too preoccupied to perceive anything up to the moment when I noticed that two women were watching me closely from the room opposite. One of them wore a red pinafore, and the other was a powerful-looking woman with a hat on. I dropped my eyes, and was brought sharply back to the conversation behind me by hearing my own name mentioned.