Their rooms were on the first floor. Step by step, with her hand on his arm, they descended the staircase into the bright hall below.
``Cheer up,'' said Milly. ``You have a tongue sandwich. That'll make you talk.''
``Sorry, am I being a bore?''
``I was only joking. You are a serious boy, aren't you?'' In spite of the savage weather the hotel seemed full of week-end visitors. More were arriving through the swing doors, their eyes moist and their cheeks rigid from the icy cold outside.
``Yids,'' explained Milly superfluously. ``Still it's nice to get a change from the club once in a while.''
One of the new arrivals was a friend of Milly's. He was supervising the collection of his luggage. Anywhere else he would have been a noticeable figure, for he wore a large fur coat and a beret; under the coat appeared tartan stockings and black and white shoes. ``Take `em up and get `em unpacked and quick about it,'' he said. He was a stout little young man. His companion, also in furs, was staring resentfully at one of the showcases that embellished the hall.
``Oh for Christ's sake,'' she said.
Milly and the young man greeted each other. ``This is Dan,'' she said.
``Well, well, well,'' said Dan, ``what next.''
``Do I get a drink?'' said Dan's girl.
``Baby, you do, if I have to get it myself. Won't you two join us, or are we de trop?''
They went together into the glittering lounge. ``I'm cold like hell,'' said Baby.
Dan had taken off his greatcoat and revealed a suit of smooth, purplish plus fours, and a silk shirt of a pattern Tony might have chosen for pyjamas. ``We'll soon warm you up,'' he said.
``This place stinks of yids,'' said Baby.
``I always think that's the sign of a good hotel, don't you?'' said Tony.
``Like hell,'' said Baby.
``You mustn't mind Baby, she's cold,'' Dan explained.
``Who wouldn't be in your lousy car?''
They had some cocktails. Then Dan and Baby went to their room; they must doll up, they explained, as they were going to a party given by a friend of Dan's, at a place of his near there. Tony and Milly went in to dinner. ``He's a very nice boy,'' she said, ``and comes to the club a lot. We get all sorts there, but Dan's one of the decent ones. I was going to have gone abroad with him once but in the end he couldn't get away.''
``His girl didn't seem to like us much.''
``Oh, she was cold.''
Tony did not find conversation easy at dinner. At first he commented on their neighbours as he would have done if he had been dining with Brenda at Espinosa's. ``That's a pretty girl in the corner.''
``I wonder you don't go and join her, dear,'' said Milly testily.
``Look at that woman's diamonds. Do you think they can be real?''
``Why don't you ask her, if you're so interested?''
``That's an interesting type--the dark woman dancing.''
``I'm sure she'd be delighted to hear it.''
Presently Tony realized that it was not etiquette in Milly's world, to express interest in women, other than the one you were with.
They drank champagne. So, Tony noticed with displeasure, did the two detectives. He would have something to say about that when their bill for expenses came in. It was not as though they had been accommodating in the matter of Winnie. All the time, at the back of his mind, he was worrying with the problem of what they could possibly do after dinner, but it was solved for him, just as he was lighting his cigar, by the appearance of Dan from the other side of the dining room. ``Look here,'' he said, ``if you two aren't doing anything special why don't you join up with us and come to the party at my friend's place. You'll like it. He always gives one the best of everything.''
``Oh do let's,'' said Milly.
Dan's evening clothes were made of blue cloth that was supposed to appear black in artificial light; for some reason, however, they remained very blue.
So Milly and Tony went to Dan's friend's place and had the best of everything. There was a party of twenty or thirty people, all more or less like Dan. Dan's friend was most hospitable. When he was not fiddling with the wireless, which gave trouble off and on throughout the evening, he was sauntering among his guests refilling their glasses. ``This stuff's all right,'' he said, showing the label, ``it won't hurt you. It's the right stuff.''
They had a lot of the right stuff.
Quite often Dan's friend noticed that Tony seemed to be out of the party. Then he would come across and put his hand on Tony's shoulder. ``I'm so glad Dan brought you,'' he would say. ``Hope you're getting all you want. Delighted to see you. Come again when there isn't a crowd and see over the place. Interested in roses?''
``Yes, I like them very much.''
``Come when the roses are out. You'd like that if you're interested in roses. Damn that radio, it's going wonky again.''
Tony wondered whether he was as amiable when people he did not know were brought over unexpectedly to Hetton.
At one stage in the evening he found himself sitting on a sofa with Dan. ``Nice kid Milly,'' he said.
``Yes.''
``I'll tell you a thing I've noticed about her. She attracts quite a different type from the other girls. People like you and me.''
``Yes.''
``You wouldn't think she had a daughter of eight, would you.''
``No, it's very surprising.''
``I didn't know for ages. Then I was taking her to Dieppe for the week-end and she wanted to bring the child along too. Of course that put the kybosh on it, but I've always liked Milly just the same. You can trust her to behave anywhere.'' He said this with a sour glance towards Baby who was full of the right stuff and showing it. It was after three before the party broke up. Dan's friend renewed his invitation to come again when the roses were out. ``I doubt if you'll find a better show of roses anywhere in the south of England,'' he said.
Dan drove them back to the hotel. Baby sat beside him in front, disposed to be quarrelsome. ``Where were you?'' she kept asking. ``Never saw you all the evening. Where did you get to? Where were you hiding? I call it a lousy way to take a girl out.''
Tony and Milly sat at the back. From habit and exhaustion she put her head on his shoulder and her hand in his. When they reached their rooms, however, she said, ``Go quietly. We don't want to wake Winnie.''
For an hour or so Tony lay in the warm little bedroom, reviewing over and over again the incidents of the last three months; then he too fell asleep.
He was awakened by Winnie. ``Mother's still asleep,'' she said.
Tony looked at his watch. ``So I should think,'' he said. It was quarter past seven. ``Go back to bed.''
``No, I'm dressed. Let's go out.''
She went to the window and pulled back the curtains, filling the room with glacial morning light. ``It's hardly raining at all,'' she said.
``What do you want to do?''
``I want to go on the pier.''
``It won't be open yet.''
``Well I want to go down to the sea. Come on.''
Tony knew that he would not get to sleep again that morning. ``All right. You go and wait while I dress.''