to come back with me to my rooms. ‘Because then I shall know exactly where to find you when I need you.’
‘Or maybe I could come back with you,’ I teased her. ‘We could have tea à trois . You, me and your Aunt Philippa.’
She seemed to consider me. ‘You know,’ she said, without a flicker of humour, ‘when I saw you earlier, outside the drugstore where your friend was shot—’
‘I already told you, Inez, he was hardly a friend.’
‘Well, I saw your face before you saw me. And I’ll tell you what I thought. You’ll have to forgive me … I thought I had never seen anyone sadder-looking in all my life.’
‘Pardon me?’ I said, hoping I hadn’t heard her quite right.
‘It hurt my heart, just looking at you.’
‘Well – I’m sorry to hear that … Fact is,’ I added defensively, ‘I just had some bad news.’
She wasn’t listening. ‘There’s me, fussing about never finding a sweetheart or a husband or whatnot – and there were you with a face more tragic than Helen of Troy.’
‘I told you. I just had some bad news.’
‘And I don’t even care what you say about a fallen woman is better than a wife. I thought about it over and over after you said it. And heck, how do I know? I’m not even either. And maybe it is better and maybe it isn’t better. But I know from your face you’re not happy. And I have an idea. About the singing school. Remember? That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. So that’s why I decided we should go back to your rooms – you have a sitting room or something, don’t you? Where we can talk, without others listening in?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘Well then. Let’s go there – I have a perfect plan for you. A perfect plan – and it’s going to save you.’
‘I don’t need saving, Inez.’
‘Yes, you do.’
‘No. I don’t.’
‘Oh! Don’t be absurd,’ she said, taking my arm. ‘We all need saving!’ and she spun me towards Plum Street. ‘Especially you.’
7
The tall thin boy at the counter looked even taller and bonier when we returned the following day. He was leaning on the same counter, reading – I’m fairly sure of it – the exact same article. Lawrence O’Neill was at a desk behind him, stretched out on a metal chair, large and brawny, dwarfing the furniture around him. He had a rifle cocked between his thighs, which he was in the process of attending to.
‘Here they are, Mr O’Neill!’ the boy – Cody – declared. ‘The ladies I told you about. I told you they’d come.’
Lawrence O’Neill glanced up, looked the two of us up and down. He nodded politely at me – an acknowledgement of what had passed between us – before letting his bright blue eyes rest more warmly upon Inez. Slowly, he laid the gun on the table and stood up. There were sweat stains around the armpits of his shirt and waistcoat, and his chin was unshaven.
‘Well, well,’ he said, lifting the counter flap and stepping through. Inez, hardly five feet tall, looked like a child beside him. Or he looked like a giant. Either way, I thought they looked faintly ridiculous together. But it seemed not to bother them. On the contrary, the attraction between them was intense and obvious. I glanced at the boy, Cody. He was staring at them, with his mouth hanging open. ‘Just look here what the cat brought in,’ O’Neill said softly. ‘Tell me. How’s your head today, missie? It was fairly swimming the last time I saw you.’
‘Oh, it’s fine,’ Inez said. And then nothing. Silence. I’d never before heard her make such a short statement. It was a struggle not to giggle.
There was no window in the front office and no one had troubled to switch on the counter lamp, so the only light in the room came from the open door behind us. O’Neill’s face was bathed in afternoon sunlight, and the pleasure in his brilliant blue eyes burned bright for all to see. Inez’s facial expression, her back to the door, was impossible to read. Not that
‘Or maybe I could come back with you,’ I teased her. ‘We could have tea à trois . You, me and your Aunt Philippa.’
She seemed to consider me. ‘You know,’ she said, without a flicker of humour, ‘when I saw you earlier, outside the drugstore where your friend was shot—’
‘I already told you, Inez, he was hardly a friend.’
‘Well, I saw your face before you saw me. And I’ll tell you what I thought. You’ll have to forgive me … I thought I had never seen anyone sadder-looking in all my life.’
‘Pardon me?’ I said, hoping I hadn’t heard her quite right.
‘It hurt my heart, just looking at you.’
‘Well – I’m sorry to hear that … Fact is,’ I added defensively, ‘I just had some bad news.’
She wasn’t listening. ‘There’s me, fussing about never finding a sweetheart or a husband or whatnot – and there were you with a face more tragic than Helen of Troy.’
‘I told you. I just had some bad news.’
‘And I don’t even care what you say about a fallen woman is better than a wife. I thought about it over and over after you said it. And heck, how do I know? I’m not even either. And maybe it is better and maybe it isn’t better. But I know from your face you’re not happy. And I have an idea. About the singing school. Remember? That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. So that’s why I decided we should go back to your rooms – you have a sitting room or something, don’t you? Where we can talk, without others listening in?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘Well then. Let’s go there – I have a perfect plan for you. A perfect plan – and it’s going to save you.’
‘I don’t need saving, Inez.’
‘Yes, you do.’
‘No. I don’t.’
‘Oh! Don’t be absurd,’ she said, taking my arm. ‘We all need saving!’ and she spun me towards Plum Street. ‘Especially you.’
7
The tall thin boy at the counter looked even taller and bonier when we returned the following day. He was leaning on the same counter, reading – I’m fairly sure of it – the exact same article. Lawrence O’Neill was at a desk behind him, stretched out on a metal chair, large and brawny, dwarfing the furniture around him. He had a rifle cocked between his thighs, which he was in the process of attending to.
‘Here they are, Mr O’Neill!’ the boy – Cody – declared. ‘The ladies I told you about. I told you they’d come.’
Lawrence O’Neill glanced up, looked the two of us up and down. He nodded politely at me – an acknowledgement of what had passed between us – before letting his bright blue eyes rest more warmly upon Inez. Slowly, he laid the gun on the table and stood up. There were sweat stains around the armpits of his shirt and waistcoat, and his chin was unshaven.
‘Well, well,’ he said, lifting the counter flap and stepping through. Inez, hardly five feet tall, looked like a child beside him. Or he looked like a giant. Either way, I thought they looked faintly ridiculous together. But it seemed not to bother them. On the contrary, the attraction between them was intense and obvious. I glanced at the boy, Cody. He was staring at them, with his mouth hanging open. ‘Just look here what the cat brought in,’ O’Neill said softly. ‘Tell me. How’s your head today, missie? It was fairly swimming the last time I saw you.’
‘Oh, it’s fine,’ Inez said. And then nothing. Silence. I’d never before heard her make such a short statement. It was a struggle not to giggle.
There was no window in the front office and no one had troubled to switch on the counter lamp, so the only light in the room came from the open door behind us. O’Neill’s face was bathed in afternoon sunlight, and the pleasure in his brilliant blue eyes burned bright for all to see. Inez’s facial expression, her back to the door, was impossible to read. Not that
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