The Rose Garden Page 14

  “I don’t want to risk my job,” Agnes said.

  “No fear of that,” Bridie said. “How can you risk your job when they won’t know anything about it? They’ll just think the fellows are shy, or something.”

  Josie sniggered. “Oh, God,” she said, “there she’ll be sitting up there with her black stockings on her, and nobody coming near her!”

  Agnes smiled meanly, stood up, and brushed bread crumbs from the front of her skirt. “We’ll have to make sure all the girls know about it, Bridie,” she said.

  The dance began at nine o’clock. At eleven, George Harkey still waited, surrounded by the empty chairs he was holding for Leona, on a dais at one end of the long village hall. His solitary dinner at the village bar-and-grill had been preceded by five very sweet Manhattans, and he was drowsy. He tried, with a monotonous lack of success but nonchalantly all the same, to count the eyelashes of his left eye with the fingers of his right hand and the eyelashes of his right eye with his other set of fingers. Head bent, eyes alternately glazing and wandering, he still could not entirely avoid seeing the feet of the dancers as they galloped past his perch. Underneath him, the dais, which had been built for some pageant, thudded industriously in time with the dancing, and around him the empty chairs rattled. Suddenly the hall darkened slightly. Someone had turned the lights down. To George, who had just then been gazing intently into the palms of his locked hands, the change seemed tremendous. The music, the laughter, the pounding of feet, and the voices, which formerly had come at him in one bright, enveloping blast of exhausting but familiar sound, now seemed to deepen and at the same time to grow more shrill. It was an ominous alteration. Was he in the same room? Had he, perhaps, slept?

  He raised his eyes fearfully and gazed down the length of the hall. Dimly, far away across the sea of jiggling heads, he perceived the glitter of instruments. There was the stage, there were the musicians. In front of the stage stood a bank of the same thick, stiff green shrubbery that sprouted at intervals in tubs along the side walls, separating into chummy groups the empty chairs that had been set aside for tired dancers. Were there any tired dancers? George couldn’t tell. The nausea that had been caressing him at intervals all day embraced him without warning, and roughly. He closed his eyes tight and gripped the seat of his chair with both hands, but still, in his horrified vision, the dance floor swung right, swung left, with sickening precision, as though some giant pendulum had control of it, and the dancers, oblivious, whirled giddily on, and he was increasingly aware of the Manhattans and of the two tough pork chops that since suppertime had lain, almost forgotten, inside him.

  The wave passed, leaving its victim trembling but not seriously impaired. He opened his eyes, put his hand to his hip pocket, and took out a large silver flask. He unscrewed the top, poured some whiskey into one of the two sticky glasses that some earlier Retreat visitors had left on the chair beside him, and drank. That was better. He hoped no one had noticed him, but it was too late to worry now, and he poured another drink, finished it off, and set the glass on the floor, so carelessly that it turned on its side and rolled dismally under one of the chairs.

  He recorked the flask, crossed his legs, and sat back to survey the festivities, with the suave, aloof smile he had often seen Charles Runyon wear. On George’s square, earnest face the smile sat awkwardly, but he knew only that he felt tired, and tried to solve the problem by leering on one side of his face while he rested the muscles of the other side.

  At this moment, through the wide entrance door at the side of the hall, he saw Leona enter, pause, and raise her arms in greeting to the merrymakers. She was wearing a sleeveless white crêpe dress that clung to her tall, slender figure, and there were diamonds in her ears. She raised herself on tiptoe, waved to the band, and pranced gracefully to the dais and to George. Behind her, Charles, Dolly, and Lewis followed confidently, their smiles radiating pleasure, camaraderie, and, above all, approval.

  Leona tripped up the steps and stood beside George, regarding him with a humorous moue that he found peculiarly repellent.

  “Well, George, all alone? Poor George has been sitting here all alone,” she said to Charles, who had already taken a chair and arranged himself in an attitude.

  “Never mind the poor-George stuff,” George muttered, but no one heard him.

  Dolly plumped herself down beside him. “Where is everybody?” she demanded. “Are we the only people here?”

  “The Gieglers were here,” George said, “but they left. The Ffrenches left, too, and the Pearsons. Some of the others were here. The Allens, I think. Anyway, they’re all gone. But now you’re here,” he added with an effort.

  “George, how do you like my fancy dress?” Dolly asked.

  She was wearing her favorite cocktail skirt, of black satin cut in a wide circle, and with it a tight, sleeveless, modestly low jerkin blouse of black-and-white striped satin that laced at the back with red corset strings. There were towering red heels on her black satin sandals, and a small triangle of rhinestones glittered on each black net instep. Her hair was piled in curls on top of her head and decorated with a bright-red rose.

  “You look fine, Dolly,” George said. “What do you mean, fancy dress? It’s just a dress, isn’t it?”

  “Well, it’s a little costumey, don’t you think? Lewis said I looked like a French doll.”

  “Dolly means it’s not quite what one wears,” Leona interrupted, leaning across George to twinkle brilliantly at Dolly. “You must excuse George, Dolly. I suspect he’s not seeing quite clearly. Didn’t you dance at all, George?”

  “No one asked me to dance,” George said. He stood up. “No one asked Nat Ffrench to dance, either,” he said, “or Rita, or the Gieglers, or anybody. Nobody asked anybody to dance. So they left.”

  “Been to the bar, George?” Lewis asked boisterously. He was in great good humor, and looked large, solid, and secure in his well-cut dark-blue suit.

  “I didn’t go near the bar,” George said. “It’s in the room behind the stage. You have to walk right through the dance to get to it.”

  “That’s where it always is,” Leona said happily. “Go on, Lewis. You play waiter. I’ll have a Scotch-and-water.”

  “I think I’ll leave now,” George said. “I’d like some fresh air. I’ll go along home, I think.”

  “You’ll do nothing of the sort, George,” Leona said. “You’re not going to march out the minute I come in. Did you see Bridie?”

  “She has a chair down there near the stage, I think,” George said. “I really think I’ll go now, Leona.”

  “Sit down, George,” Leona said.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, sit down and shut up, George,” Charles said.

  “All right,” George said. “Didn’t know I was so popular. But I’ll sit at the back here. See, I’ll sit here.”

  He tilted a chair back against the wall and sat down, sleepy but resigned to staying awake. He closed his eyes.

  “Isn’t this gay?” Leona said. “Well, for goodness’ sake, will you look at Edward! I forgot all about him. He’s dancing with the Ffrenches’ maid, Eileen something. He didn’t come in with us, did he? I thought he stayed in the car.”

  “He woke up when I was getting out,” Dolly said. “I took it for granted he’d gone to the bar.”

  “Well, I never,” Charles said, two or three minutes later. “Our Edward is getting quite a whirl. There he is again, with a different girl.”

  “The Bennetts’ cook,” Leona said absently.

  “Never you mind, Charles!” Dolly cried gaily. “Wait till the waltzes start. You’ll put poor Edward completely in the shade.”

  “Really, Dolly!” Charles snapped. “This brawl means nothing to me. Be serious, my dear, even if you can’t be intelligent. I’m here to observe, not to dance.”

  “Haw-haw,” George said from the back. They all turned to stare at him. He had the flask in the open again.

  “George, what on earth! What are you doing with that
ridiculous flask?” Leona cried.

  “My own flask.” George, unperturbed, took another swallow, keeping his eyes fixed on Leona.

  “Well, here’s a pretty how-de-do,” Charles whispered angrily. “You should have let him go home, Leona.”

  “He’ll go in a minute,” Leona whispered back. “Let’s just ignore him.”

  “It’s bedlam in the bar,” Lewis said, returning with their drinks, “but I must say they gave me quick service. They’re a nice bunch of fellows, those cops, or whatever they are.” He put the loaded tray on the floor of the dais and began to hand drinks around.

  “What are they, anyway, Leona?” Charles asked. “It really interests me. It is in the nature of a social phenomenon, you know, this gathering. Who are these imported stalwarts?”

  “Policemen, mostly. Firemen, I suppose, too,” Leona said. “Who cares, as long as they can dance?”

  “The Department of Sanitation is represented, too,” Dolly whispered, gazing at a red-faced young man in a white linen jacket, who was dancing with the Gieglers’ long-faced Agnes.

  “Complete with carnation in lapel,” Charles remarked. “My, aren’t we chic!”

  Leona giggled. “You’re both perfectly terrible,” she said. “That’s a very respectable-looking coat. And a very nice-looking young man, too. I think you should be ashamed of yourselves.”

  Dolly choked suddenly, and hid her face behind Leona’s shoulder. “Leona!” she spluttered. “Will you look at our Josie in the dyed pink stockings. Did you ever see anything like it in your life?”

  “Macabre, my dear,” Leona murmured. “Poor thing, she must have slaved to get that color. It matches her ears, though.”

  Charles threw an arm casually over the back of his chair, and his black flannel coat slipped open to show more than a glimpse of the gray-and-rose brocade waistcoat he was wearing.

  “This dais was a charming thought,” he said expansively. “What do they use it for? May queens and things? I adore sitting here, being at once a member of the audience and a player. And yet, not really of either group. The critic’s lot is a lonely one, my dears. I feel remote from the rollicking servants, and just as remote, in a different way, from you delightful people. The cold, uncompromising eyes give me no peace. I say it ruefully, I assure you.” He sipped his ginger ale and smiled at them complacently.

  Lewis made an impatient movement, and Dolly glanced at him warningly. “Well, I wish we’d start dancing,” she said. “I’m getting restless, sitting here like this. How do they make chairs this hard?”

  “There is something strange about it,” Lewis said. “How long have we been here? Twenty minutes? Half an hour?”

  “I suppose they’re shy,” Leona said. “George said none of the Retreat people who came danced.”

  George, who had been dozing, came to at the sound of his name and sat up, looking around blearily.

  “Well, where’s the rush, girls?” he inquired. “I thought we were going to be stampeded. What happened to the stag line?”

  Leona shot him a venomous glance. Turning to Lewis, she said in a low voice, “Did you notice anything in the bar? I mean, were they friendly and everything?”

  “Sure,” Lewis said. “They went out of their way to help me get the drinks. They were—well, you know, the same as they always are.”

  “I’m afraid you girls outsmarted yourselves,” Charles said, chortling faintly. “The poor creatures are paralyzed by the splendor of your attire.”

  Leona turned impulsively to Lewis. “Lewis, why don’t you and Dolly start things off by dancing together. Not that I care that much about dancing, but if they’re shy—”

  “Nothing doing,” Lewis said.

  “Oh, Leona, we can’t do that,” Dolly said. “They have to ask us. We can’t just jump right into the middle of their dance. After all, we don’t really come here to dance. We just come—well, to be nice.”

  “You’re stuck,” George said. “It’s a boycott. They’re on to you, girls.”

  “That’s ridiculous, George!” Leona cried indignantly. “They’re dancing with Edward.”

  George shrugged.

  “If it were a boycott,” Charles interposed, “we’d know it by their demeanor. They’d giggle or point their fingers or something. These people can’t control their emotions. They have to show what they feel. But I can see no evidence of hostility in this assemblage.”

  “Neither can I!” Leona cried. “Why, they’re smiling and friendly and all. There’s Bridie waving at me now. They’re just shy, incredible though it may seem. Well, who ever would have thought it? It’s too bad. Not that it matters, of course.”

  “I didn’t know Edward could even stand up,” Dolly said suddenly, “and look at him now. The life of the party.”

  “The parlormaids’ Don Juan,” Charles said. “The scullery sheik.”

  George emitted a rude crow of mirth. “A rehearsal, by God!” he cried. “Is that what you’re going to say to Tarnac tomorrow, Charles? I’ve always wanted to see you working on those witty sayings of yours. Try some more, Charles. We’ll tell you the good ones.”

  Charles froze into a dark knot of rage. Leona turned pale.

  “Shut up, you,” Lewis said. “Do you hear me? Shut up. We know Tarnac; you don’t.”

  George waggled a finger at him. “Now, now, Lewis. Just because Tarnac is dancing and you’re not. No one asked me to dance, but you don’t see me getting all red and angry.”

  Lewis crouched like a beast on his straight wooden chair. “Come outside,” he said. “I’ll break your neck for that.”

  “Break it here,” George said with enthusiasm. “Come on, break it. Hit me. Come on, hit me.”

  “Oh, God!” Leona moaned. “Will you two stop it! Stop this at once. The servants, Lewis! Have some sense! Oh, Charles, smile as though nothing had happened. Dolly, stop glaring at George that way. Lewis, pull yourself together, please.”

  Lewis squared around to face the dancers again. Behind him, George grinned.

  “All right,” Lewis said. “All right. But I won’t forget this, Leona.”

  “How could you, dear?” Leona said soothingly. “And neither will George,” she promised, in a different tone.

  “Oh, let’s go home. Let’s get out of here, for heaven’s sake!” Dolly said.

  “You can’t go home that fast,” George said. “Maybe it is a boycott. Maybe they’re not shy at all. Maybe they want to teach you a lesson. Us a lesson, I mean. Us a lesson.”

  “I couldn’t care less!” Dolly cried. “It’s all a great bore as far as I’m concerned. Let’s you and me go anyway, Lewis.”

  “Little feelings hurt?” George inquired, and sniggered.

  Lewis set his glass carefully on the floor, and then clenched his fist melodramatically. “Listen, little man,” he said to George, “my wife’s feelings are not hurt. My wife’s feelings could never be hurt by a crew of drunken servants and street-sweepers and God knows what.”

  “Oh, Lewis, old man, I know that,” George said, “but do they know that?”

  “What do I care what they think!”

  “Keep your voice down, Lewis,” Leona said coldly. “For once, George is right. We have to stay a little while, I’m afraid, deadly though it is. We can’t let them think they drove us out. We’ll stay a reasonable time, and then go. I still don’t think they’re doing it on purpose. It would be too silly.”

  “We’ll know tomorrow, anyway,” Dolly said, sighing. “Edward will tell us.”

  “I must say he has a nerve,” Leona said. “He hasn’t come near us once. After all, Dolly, you are his hostess.”

  “Edward has reached his proper level, my dear,” Charles said. “Look at the pathetic fellow, capering around.”

  “Utterly smug,” Dolly said. “Oh, God,” she added. “He heard us talking this morning on the deck, Leona. About the dance, I mean, and these damned stockings and all. Do you suppose he’ll tell them? I really can’t bear to think of them laugh
ing at us.”

  “I don’t think he’ll say anything,” Lewis said. “I don’t think he’d go that far.”

  “I really think we’ve stayed long enough, don’t you, Charles?” Leona said.

  “We will not go home, children,” Charles said. “I know you girls are disappointed you weren’t asked to dance. Lewis and George, too, of course. But we mustn’t let our little peeve show. This is much too interesting a scene to miss, and I intend to sit it out. Chins up, now. We’re not leaving. Don’t look so down, Dolly. There’ll be other dances.”

  “What do you mean there’ll be other dances?” Dolly cried furiously. “You’re the one who’s been making all the fuss about coming to this wretched thing. What about your special waistcoat and your waltzing slippers?”

  Charles regarded her with cool amusement. “Leona knows all about that, Dolly,” he said. “I have a severely infected foot, which obliges me to wear a pliable shoe. I never had the slightest intention of dancing tonight, but I didn’t want to spoil your fun by refusing to come, and in any case the spectacle interests me, and you are making it even more interesting, my dear, with this childish display of temper because the little boys didn’t notice your sexy new stockings. Isn’t that so, my sweet? Leona, you remember my telling you about my wretched foot?”

  “Of course, darling,” Leona said. “You should apologize, Dolly.”

  “Haw, haw, HAW,” George said. “He made that all up just now to save his face, such as it is.”

  “Leave the room at once, George,” Leona said.

  “Make me,” George said. “Go ahead, make me. Make me.”

  “Make you what?” Charles asked in contempt.

  Leona threw Charles a glance of anguish. “Oh, Charles, don’t provoke him. Poor George is not himself this evening.”

  “Poor George,” George said, apparently to himself. “Poor George,” he said again. He stood up. “POOR GEORGE!” he roared. “POOR, POOR George!”

  The nearest dancers hesitated and then went on. George smiled and sat down again.

  “I’ll kill you for this, George,” Leona said.