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‘I’m so tired, Terry – and remarkably hungry. I can’t believe I’m only twenty-nine – I feel sixty-nine. I’m not really brave – I only pretend to be. And I’m getting awfully mean ideas. I walked all the way to Ealing yesterday to see Cousin Charlotte Green. I thought if I got there at half past twelve she’d be sure to ask me to stop to lunch. And then when I got to the house, I felt it was too cadging for anything. I just couldn’t. So I walked all the way back. And that’s foolish. You should be a determined cadger or else not even think of it. I don’t think I’m a strong character.’
Terry groaned again and put a black nose into Joyce’s eye.
‘You’ve got a lovely nose still, Terry – all cold like ice cream. Oh, I do love you so! I can’t part from you. I can’t have you “put away”, I can’t . . . I can’t . . . I can’t . . .’
The warm tongue licked eagerly. ‘You understand so, my sweet. You’d do anything to help Missus, wouldn’t you?’
Terry clambered down and went unsteadily to a corner. He came back holding a battered bowl between his teeth.
Joyce was midway between tears and laughter.
‘Was he doing his only trick? The only thing he could think of to help Missus. Oh, Terry – Terry – nobody shall part us! I’d do anything. Would I, though? One says that – and then when you’re shown the thing, you say, “I didn’t mean anything like that.” Would I do anything?’
She got down on the floor beside the dog.
‘You see, Terry, it’s like this. Nursery governesses can’t have dogs, and companions to elderly ladies can’t have dogs. Only married women can have dogs, Terry – little fluffy expensive dogs that they take shopping with them – and if one preferred an old blind terrier – well, why not?’
She stopped frowning and at that minute there was a double knock from below.
‘The post. I wonder.’
She jumped up and hurried down the stairs, returning with a letter.
‘It might be. If only . . .’
She tore it open.
Dear Madam,
We have inspected the picture and our opinion is that it is not a genuine Cuyp and that its value is practically nil.
Yours truly,
Sloane & Ryder
Joyce stood holding it. When she spoke, her voice had changed.
‘That’s that,’ she said. ‘The last hope gone. But we won’t be parted. There’s a way – and it won’t be cadging. Terry darling, I’m going out. I’ll be back soon.’
Joyce hurried down the stairs to where the telephone stood in a dark corner. There she asked for a certain number. A man’s voice answered her, its tone changing as he realized her identity.
‘Joyce, my dear girl. Come out and have some dinner and dance tonight.’
‘I can’t,’ said Joyce lightly. ‘Nothing fit to wear.’
And she smiled grimly as she thought of the empty pegs in the flimsy cupboard.
‘How would it be if I came along and saw you now? What’s the address? Good Lord, where’s that? Rather come off your high horse, haven’t you?’
‘Completely.’
‘Well, you’re frank about it. So long.’
Arthur Halliday’s car drew up outside the house about three quarters of an hour later. An awestruck Mrs Barnes conducted him upstairs.
‘My dear girl – what an awful hole. What on earth has got you into this mess?’
‘Pride and a few other unprofitable emotions.’
lShe spoke lightly enough; her eyes looked at the man opposite her sardonically.
Many people called Halliday handsome. He was a big man with square shoulders, fair, with small, very pale blue eyes and a heavy chin.
He sat down on the rickety chair she indicated.
‘Well,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘I should say you’d had your lesson. I say – will that brute bite?’
‘No, no, he’s all right. I’ve trained him to be rather a – a watchdog.’
Halliday was looking her up and down.
‘Going to climb down, Joyce,’ he said softly. ‘Is that it?’
Joyce nodded.
‘I told you before, my dear girl. I always get what I want in the end. I knew you’d come in time to see which way your bread was buttered.’
‘It’s lucky for me you haven’t changed your mind,’ said Joyce.
He looked at her suspiciously. With Joyce you never knew quite what she was driving at.
‘You’ll marry me?’
She nodded. ‘As soon as you please.’
‘The sooner, the better, in fact.’ He laughed, looking round the room. Joyce flushed.
‘By the way, there’s a condition.’
‘A condition?’ He looked suspicious again. ‘My dog. He must come with me.’
‘This old scarecrow? You can have any kind of a dog you choose. Don’t spare expense.’
‘I want Terry.’
‘Oh! All right, please yourself.’
Joyce was staring at him. ‘You do know – don’t you – that I don’t love you? Not in the least.’
‘I’m not worrying about that. I’m not thin-skinned. But no hankypanky, my girl. If you marry me, you play fair.’
The colour flashed into Joyce’s cheeks. ‘You will have your money’s worth,’ she said.
‘What about a kiss now?’
He advanced upon her. She waited, smiling. He took her in his arms, kissing her face, her lips, her neck. She neither stiffened nor drew back. He released her at last.
‘I’ll get you a ring,’ he said. ‘What would you like, diamonds or pearls?’
‘A ruby,’ said Joyce. ‘The largest ruby possible – the colour of blood.’
‘That’s an odd idea.’
‘I should like it to be a contrast to the little half hoop of pearls that was all that Michael could afford to give me.’
‘Better luck this time, eh?’
‘You put things wonderfully, Arthur.’
Halliday went out chuckling.
‘Terry,’ said Joyce. ‘Lick me – lick hard – all over my face and my neck – particularly my neck.’
And as Terry obeyed, she murmured reflectively:
‘Thinking of something else very hard – that’s the only way. You’d never guess what I thought of – jam – jam in a grocer’s shop. I said it over to myself. Strawberry, blackcurrant, raspberry, damson. And perhaps, Terry, he’ll get tired of me fairly soon. I hope so, don’t you? They say men do when they’re married to you. But Michael wouldn’t have tired of me – never – never – never – Oh! Michael . . .’
Joyce rose the next morning with a heart like lead. She gave a deep sigh and immediately Terry, who slept on her bed, had moved up and was kissing her affectionately.
‘Oh, darling – darling! We’ve got to go through with it. But if only something would happen. Terry darling, can’t you help Missus? You would if you could, I know.’
Mrs Barnes brought up some tea and bread and butter and was heartily congratulatory.
‘There now, ma’am, to think of you going to marry that gentleman. It was a Rolls he came in. It was indeed. It quite sobered Barnes up to think of one of them Rolls standing outside our door. Why, I declare that dog’s sitting out on the window sill.’
‘He likes the sun,’ said Joyce. ‘But it’s rather dangerous. Terry, come in.’
‘I’d have the poor dear put out of his misery if I was you,’ said Mrs Barnes, ‘and get your gentleman to buy you one of them plumy dogs as ladies carry in their muffs.’
Joyce smiled and called again to Terry. The dog rose awkwardly and just at that moment the noise of a dog fight rose from the street below. Terry craned his neck forward and added some brisk barking. The window sill was old and rotten. It tilted and Terry, too old and stiff to regain his balance, fell.
With a wild cry, Joyce ran down the stairs and out of the front door. In a few seconds she was kneeling by Terry’s side. He was whining pitifully and his position showed her that he was badly hurt.
She bent over him.
‘Terry – Terry darling – darling, darling, darling –’
Very feebly, he tried to wag his tail.
‘Terry boy – Missus will make you better – darling boy –’
A crowd, mainly composed of small boys, was pushing round.
‘Fell from the window, ’e did.’
‘My, ’e looks bad.’
‘Broke ’is back as likely as not.’
Joyce paid no heed. ‘Mrs Barnes, where’s the nearest vet?’
‘There’s Jobling – round in Mere Street – if you could get him there.’
‘A taxi.’
‘Allow me.’
It was the pleasant voice of an elderly man who had just alighted from a taxi. He knelt down by Terry and lifted the upper lip, then passed his hand down the dog’s body.
‘I’m afraid he may be bleeding internally,’ he said. ‘There don’t seem to be any bones broken. We’d better get him along to the vet’s.’
Between them, he and Joyce lifted the dog. Terry gave a yelp of pain. His teeth met in Joyce’s arm.
‘Terry – it’s all right – all right, old man.’
They got him into the taxi and drove off. Joyce wrapped a handkerchief round her arm in an absent-minded way. Terry, distressed, tried to lick it.
‘I know, darling; I know. You didn’t mean to hurt me. It’s all right. It’s all right, Terry.’
