‘I–ah–trusted you implicitly,’ said Mr Abney.
Sam wagged his head at me reproachfully. With a flicker of spirit I glared at him. He only wagged the more.
It was, I think, the blackest moment of my life. A wild desire for escape on any terms surged over me. That look on Audrey’s face was biting into my brain like an acid.
‘I will go and pack,’ I said.
‘This is the end of all things,’ I said to myself.
I had suspended my packing in order to sit on my bed and brood. I was utterly depressed. There are crises in a man’s life when Reason fails to bring the slightest consolation. In vain I tried to tell myself that what had happened was, in essence, precisely what, twenty-four hours ago, I was so eager to bring about. It amounted to this, that now, at last, Audrey had definitely gone out of my life. From now on I could have no relations with her of any sort. Was not this exactly what, twenty-four hours ago, I had wished? Twenty-four hours ago had I not said to myself that I would go away and never see her again? Undoubtedly. Nevertheless, I sat there and groaned in spirit.
It was the end of all things.
A mild voice interrupted my meditations.
‘Can I help?’
Sam was standing in the doorway, beaming on me with invincible good-humour.
‘You are handling them wrong. Allow me. A moment more and you would have ruined the crease.’
I became aware of a pair of trousers hanging limply in my grasp. He took them from me, and, folding them neatly, placed them in my trunk.
‘Don’t get all worked up about it, sonny,’ he said. ‘It’s the fortune of war. Besides, what does it matter to you? Judging by that very snug apartment in London, you have quite enough money for a young man. Losing your job here won’t break you. And, if you’re worrying about Mrs Ford and her feelings, don’t! I guess she’s probably forgotten all about the Nugget by this time. So cheer up. -You’re- all right!’
He stretched out a hand to pat me on the shoulder, then thought better of it and drew it back.
‘Think of -my- happiness, if you want something to make you feel good. Believe me, young man, it’s -some-. I could sing! Gee, when I think that it’s all plain sailing now and no more troubles, I could dance! You don’t know what it means to me, putting through this deal. I wish you knew Mary! That’s her name. You must come and visit us, sonny, when we’re fixed up in the home. There’ll always be a knife and fork for -you-. We’ll make you one of the family! Lord! I can see the place as plain as I can see you. Nice frame house with a good porch…. Me in a rocker in my shirt-sleeves, smoking a cigar and reading the baseball news; Mary in another rocker, mending my socks and nursing the cat! We’ll sure have a cat. Two cats. I like cats. And a goat in the front garden. Say, it’ll be -great!-‘
And on the word, emotion overcoming prudence, he brought his fat hand down with a resounding smack on my bowed shoulders.
There is a limit. I bounded to my feet.
‘Get out!’ I yelped. ‘Get out of here!’
‘Sure,’ he replied agreeably. He rose without haste and regarded me compassionately. ‘Cheer up, son! Be a sport!’
There are moments when the best of men become melodramatic. I offer this as excuse for my next observation.
Clenching my fists and glaring at him, I cried, ‘I’ll foil you yet, you hound!’
Some people have no soul for the dramatic. He smiled tolerantly.
‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Anything you like, Desperate Desmond. Enjoy yourself!’
And he left me.
CHAPTER 13
I evacuated Sanstead House unostentatiously, setting off on foot down the long drive. My luggage, I gathered, was to follow me to the station in a cart. I was thankful to Providence for the small mercy that the boys were in their classrooms and consequently unable to ask me questions. Augustus Beckford alone would have handled the subject of my premature exit in a manner calculated to bleach my hair.