‘What for?’
‘Ten bob.’
‘No, what d’you want me to do?’ he said in his educated voice again.
‘Only to go out and find Miss Julia Wray’s man who’s called Thomson and ask him if her luggage is all right. He ought to be with it down in that place where it’s registered.’
After some difficulty Robert got him off and went back to be with Angela and Max. Before he could reach their room Julia called out to him and asked who had that man been and what did he want, Robert answered he had sent him out to find Thomson as she seemed so upset about her luggage, and as he said it he showed how pleased he was; he thought he was killing two birds with one stone. And as he went in and Angela began to ask him this same question, Julia said how perfectly sweet of Robert, and then added to herself, but not that man, couldn’t he have gone himself, not that man of all men? She looked so distracted, Claire said to her: ‘Now, darling, don’t get in a fuss.’
When Mr Hignam had explained, Angela said: ‘But you can’t treat him like that, he’s the hotel detective.’
‘He’s not.’
‘But, Robert, I tell you he is,’ she said, using his Christian name for the first time. ‘Alex found that out when he came in before, and I was here.’
‘He isn’t one.’
This she could take from Max but not from Robert. ‘How do you know he isn’t one?’ she said, going white under her make-up. All of a sudden she was so angry she began to tremble from her toes up.
And Amabel was just drying hers on a towel. The walls were made of looking-glass, and were clouded over with steam; from them her body was reflected in a faint pink mass. She leaned over and traced her name Amabel in that steam and that pink mass loomed up to meet her in the flesh and looked through bright at her through the letters of her name. She bent down to look at her eyes in the A her name began with, and as she gazed at them steam or her breath dulled her reflection and the blue her eyes were went out or faded.
She rubbed with the palm of her hand, and now she could see all her face. She always thought it more beautiful than anything she had ever seen, and when she looked at herself it was as though the two of them would never meet again, it was to bid farewell; and at the last she always smiled, and she did so this time as it was clouding over, tenderly smiled as you might say good-bye, my darling darling.
Angela’s raised voice came through to her.
‘She sounds cross,’ she said to Alex, and he replied she was cross by nature, she did such dreadful things. ‘It was too intolerable,’ he told her, ‘there was this young man of hers, he had gone before you came, and she left him outside and made me come in where I am now, sent me out again into that corridor and then clapped her hands as though she was slapping my face.’
‘Oh, no!’
‘Yes, it’s true.’
‘Alex, my dear, how very funny. Wasn’t it a bit hard on you?’ she said to humour him, and went on drying herself. Her bath-towel was huge and she slowly rubbed every inch of herself with it as though she were polishing. She was gradually changing colour, where she was dry was going back to white; for instance, her face was dead white but her neck was red. She was polishing her shoulders now and her neck was paling from red into pink and then suddenly it would go white. And all this time she dried herself she moved her toes as if she was moulding something.
When Alex came to an end she had not properly heard what he had been saying so she said something almost under her breath, or so low that he in his turn should not catch what she had said, but so that it would be enough to tell him she was listening.
As she went over herself with her towel it was plain that she loved her own shape and skin. When she dried her breasts she wiped them with as much care as she would puppies after she had given them their bath, smiling all the time. But her stomach she wiped unsmiling upwards to make it thin. When she came to dry her legs she hissed like grooms do. And as she got herself dry that steam began to go off the mirror walls so that as she got white again more and more of herself began to be reflected.
She stood out as though so much health, such abundance and happiness should have never clothes to hide it. Indeed she looked as though she were alone in the world she was so good, and so good that she looked mild, which she was not.
She put out her tongue and carefully examined this. Then she smiled herself good-bye again and began to powder all over her.
‘What on earth are you doing?’ he said. ‘I don’t believe you listened to a word I said.’
‘Is Max out there, d’you suppose?’
‘I don’t know. Shall I go and find him?’
‘No, of course not. Let him find me.’
‘As you are? In or out of your bath?’
‘No such luck for him,’ she said, and laughed. She began whistling.
Max said he would ask Alex what he thought this man had been, it seemed to him a natural excuse to see what they were doing. Going in he found Alex wearily leaning his shoulder against the shut door of that bathroom.
‘Hullo, old boy!’
‘Amabel,’ said Max.
‘Why, hullo, darling,’ she said. ‘I’m having a bath.’
‘Good,’ he said.
Angela came in. ‘Alex,’ she said, ‘didn’t you say that man was the hotel detective?’
‘What man?’
‘The man you gave a drink to.’
‘I thought he might be, but I shouldn’t think so.’
He could not have been, for now that he was trying to get out of this hotel, and it was like trying to get out of one world into another, no one in authority seemed to know him. If they let people out they said then they would have to allow them in, they had experienced that before when everything had been broken up, no, he could not go outside. Then he asked them what right they had to keep him in, and they told him it was to protect their own property. He had said he must go out, and then each of those officials had left him.
In the lounge where he was now it was even fuller than it had been. Every seat was occupied and people sat about on their bags as they had done outside when there had been room to sit down. One wall had windows high up along it which looked out over the station, and on their outside ledges were perched young men, mostly amusing themselves at the guests inside. These youths were putting out their yellow tongues at one old lady seated by him, and while he thought how he could get out he watched her shake her paper at them. As he always interfered he told her not to bother, and in this he was right, as she encouraged them by showing temper. But she would not listen. ‘Go away,’ she said, and once she had said that began mouthing soundlessly, go away, articulating with her lips at those youths behind glass. They caught on to this and mouthed back through the shut window, only what they brought soundless out were obscenities. He could read their lips, but she never knew. He said to her, ‘Now don’t you go and throw something at them, ma’am, it would not be proper in someone in your position and you might never know what you got back.’ ‘Go away,’ she said out loud again.
Although all those windows had been shut there was a continual dull roar came through them from outside, and this noise sat upon those within like clouds upon a mountain so they were obscured and levelled and, as though they had been airmen, in danger of running fatally into earth. Clouds also, if they are banked up, will so occupy the sky as to dwarf what is beneath and this low roar, which was only conversation in that multitude without, lay over them in such a pall, like night coming on and there is no light when one must see, that these people here were obscured by it and were dimmed into anxious Roman numerals.
Not putting this into words he did feel relieved when he got into a passage where it was emptier, though three people lay at full length against one wall. Seeing another stranger come out of one door to go into another, ‘Hi, Charlie,’ he shouted, not knowing his name, and stopped him. These three sleepers moaned in their darkness. ‘Charlie,’ he went on, coming up to him, ‘any way out of ‘ere?’ ‘No, lad, it’s all shut up.’ ‘But say you or me wanted to get out?’ ‘He’d slip out of a window,’ this other stranger said and went off.