me.’
I can’t say I meant to listen long. He must have been watching my eyes. I only glanced at the door, but a second before I tried to heave myself over again, he changed his grip quickly. One of his hands collected my wrists. The other dived for the back of my collar.
Then it all got pretty lively. I hacked his shins, and tried to jerk my hands free.
He’d played that game before too. Before my heels half connected he had swung himself, saving his legs. And his gripping hand simply squeezed my wrists tighter, while the other closed on my collar and twisted it, until the cloth in front of my neck nearly throttled me.
‘Sit, you stupid punk,’ he said. ‘And listen to me. You came here to meet Mrs Sheridan. You are going to see her. You are going to tell her you can’t take the job. And you are going to get yourself out of the country. Back to the hole you crawled out of, you and your partner.’
Natalie. He was talking about Natalie Sheridan.
I stopped being limp. ‘Are you nuts or what? Mrs Sheridan asked me to come here!’
‘Because you arranged it,’ he said. ‘Because that trickster Curtis gave her your name and told her how good you were. The old, old con. First, Curtis dupes her, and then you climb in beside him.’
I stared at the blur of his face. I couldn’t believe it. My partner in crime wasn’t Satan. It was meant to be poor Kim-Jim Curtis.
I thought it was silly to ask, because nutters don’t need to be logical. But I couldn’t help saying, ‘Why?’
Thinking about it all had made him tremble. It wasn’t nice. He wasn’t listening, either. He said, ‘She’ll tell you to publish and be damned. She’s not worth as much as you think, you know. She’s willed a lot of money away. Even if Mr Kenneth James Curtis gets her to marry him, there isn’t a jack-pot.’
It was so weird I almost forgot the shrieks of my wrist-bones. ‘He doesn’t
want
to marry her!’ I said.
The jerk on my collar made me gag again. ‘You know his plans, don’t you?’ he said. ‘You’re a fine pair. You’re a fine pair of blackguards.’
I wheezed, but he didn’t shift his grip that time. I made a big effort, and tried to explain it.
I said, ‘Of course Kim-Jim suggested me. He knew she’d like my work, and I’d like a holiday. As for the bloody woman’s money, what’s that to you? I don’t want it.’
‘I’m sure,’ he said. He sat, holding me two-handed like Andy Pandy and I could feel the sneer from where I was sitting.
He said, ‘You don’t want the money? Then prove it. Prove it by going right back to London.’
I gagged again, but he paid no attention.
‘Why should I?’ I said. ‘Give up a good paid job and a holiday because you’re Perry Como? And,’ said I rashly, because I was sore and angry and getting, by now, extremely annoyed with Abroad, ‘who are you anyway? One of Mrs Sheridan’s discards?’
I had planned, as the next move in the war, to crack my head in his face. He didn’t give me the chance.
I no sooner got those words out than he socked me.
He used the hand from my collar, which half freed me. I rocked with the blow, as he had done. I did one better and half twisting round, fetched my hands, still in his grip, gouging into his face as he lunged over.
I wear a lot of rings when I travel. Big ones. A lump of grey quartz from Fior dragged across his stockinged cheek like a hay fork.
He exclaimed, and smashed my wrists down. The blow, as every bang does, untucked the wide band of my executive watch. It slid down, taking his fingers with it. I ripped my hand away and aimed with finger and thumb for his nose. My other hand was still free. I nipped the hatpin from my lapel and speared his fist with it.
He couldn’t yell while I was twisting his nose, but he still had two limbs left, and a lot of superior weight, and he used it all. As the blows fell on my poor fatigued cotton top and what was under it, I hurled myself yet again at the bloody door
I can’t say I meant to listen long. He must have been watching my eyes. I only glanced at the door, but a second before I tried to heave myself over again, he changed his grip quickly. One of his hands collected my wrists. The other dived for the back of my collar.
Then it all got pretty lively. I hacked his shins, and tried to jerk my hands free.
He’d played that game before too. Before my heels half connected he had swung himself, saving his legs. And his gripping hand simply squeezed my wrists tighter, while the other closed on my collar and twisted it, until the cloth in front of my neck nearly throttled me.
‘Sit, you stupid punk,’ he said. ‘And listen to me. You came here to meet Mrs Sheridan. You are going to see her. You are going to tell her you can’t take the job. And you are going to get yourself out of the country. Back to the hole you crawled out of, you and your partner.’
Natalie. He was talking about Natalie Sheridan.
I stopped being limp. ‘Are you nuts or what? Mrs Sheridan asked me to come here!’
‘Because you arranged it,’ he said. ‘Because that trickster Curtis gave her your name and told her how good you were. The old, old con. First, Curtis dupes her, and then you climb in beside him.’
I stared at the blur of his face. I couldn’t believe it. My partner in crime wasn’t Satan. It was meant to be poor Kim-Jim Curtis.
I thought it was silly to ask, because nutters don’t need to be logical. But I couldn’t help saying, ‘Why?’
Thinking about it all had made him tremble. It wasn’t nice. He wasn’t listening, either. He said, ‘She’ll tell you to publish and be damned. She’s not worth as much as you think, you know. She’s willed a lot of money away. Even if Mr Kenneth James Curtis gets her to marry him, there isn’t a jack-pot.’
It was so weird I almost forgot the shrieks of my wrist-bones. ‘He doesn’t
want
to marry her!’ I said.
The jerk on my collar made me gag again. ‘You know his plans, don’t you?’ he said. ‘You’re a fine pair. You’re a fine pair of blackguards.’
I wheezed, but he didn’t shift his grip that time. I made a big effort, and tried to explain it.
I said, ‘Of course Kim-Jim suggested me. He knew she’d like my work, and I’d like a holiday. As for the bloody woman’s money, what’s that to you? I don’t want it.’
‘I’m sure,’ he said. He sat, holding me two-handed like Andy Pandy and I could feel the sneer from where I was sitting.
He said, ‘You don’t want the money? Then prove it. Prove it by going right back to London.’
I gagged again, but he paid no attention.
‘Why should I?’ I said. ‘Give up a good paid job and a holiday because you’re Perry Como? And,’ said I rashly, because I was sore and angry and getting, by now, extremely annoyed with Abroad, ‘who are you anyway? One of Mrs Sheridan’s discards?’
I had planned, as the next move in the war, to crack my head in his face. He didn’t give me the chance.
I no sooner got those words out than he socked me.
He used the hand from my collar, which half freed me. I rocked with the blow, as he had done. I did one better and half twisting round, fetched my hands, still in his grip, gouging into his face as he lunged over.
I wear a lot of rings when I travel. Big ones. A lump of grey quartz from Fior dragged across his stockinged cheek like a hay fork.
He exclaimed, and smashed my wrists down. The blow, as every bang does, untucked the wide band of my executive watch. It slid down, taking his fingers with it. I ripped my hand away and aimed with finger and thumb for his nose. My other hand was still free. I nipped the hatpin from my lapel and speared his fist with it.
He couldn’t yell while I was twisting his nose, but he still had two limbs left, and a lot of superior weight, and he used it all. As the blows fell on my poor fatigued cotton top and what was under it, I hurled myself yet again at the bloody door
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