Red Shadow (5 page)

She was twenty-three when she met Jim Mackenzie. In the first hour he had her trust, in a month her friendship, and six months later her love. Laura's affections were strong, delicate, and deep. She would never tumble into love headlong. With her, love must grow, and it must be firmly rooted in friendship and in trust. Passion would come to her as a fusing of these three things, and it would burn with a white and steady flame.

She presented an immovable front to Miss Wimborough's reproaches. They could wound her to the quick, but they could not shake her. She came to a point where she stopped being wounded and felt a deep, sweet compassion for the woman who knew so little about love. When, after a year's engagement, the date of her marriage was fixed, it was a real grief to her that Miss Wimborough, announcing that nothing would induce her to attend the sacrifice, departed upon a lecture tour in the United States—her theme “Some Crying Evils of our Social System.” It was a grief, but also something of a relief. It would have been nice to have Aunt Agatha if Aunt Agatha could have brought herself to be nice to Jim; but if she couldn't, it was perhaps just as well that she should be saying the sort of thing she did say, on a lecture platform, and not in the flat she shared with Laura.

Since Miss Wimborough was some three thousand miles away, it could not be known how she would have dealt with Mr Basil Stevens. She was undoubtedly a woman of great force of character and exceedingly competent. Living through the thirty-six hours which separated her from the moment when she would hear Jim Mackenzie's voice on the telephone telling her that he was free, Laura was aware of a desperate, lonely longing for Aunt Agatha. No one could do anything; there was nothing that anyone could do. But at the back of all her thoughts was the irrational conviction that if Agatha Wimborough had been here, the impossible would have been done.

Thursday passed like a long, slow dream. Laura maintained a despairing composure. She waited for only one thing—to hear Jim's voice. Beyond that she did not allow her thoughts to pass. All through the hours of Wednesday night she lay and listened. Would Jim still be in prison? How long would it take to put in motion all those wheels which must turn before he could be free? As long as she thought about Jim being set free, it was easier; but as soon as she stopped thinking about that, she had the terrible feeling that she was on the very edge and brink of void, empty space, and that with her next movement she would fall, and go on falling, down, down, down.

All through the hours of Thursday she sat and waited. When Amelia set food before her, she ate it. When Amelia spoke to her, she answered in a gentle toneless voice. Then she went back to listening for the telephone bell. It would not ring before Friday morning—she knew that. But she could not help listening. Sometimes it rang so loud in her head that she took the receiver off and sat leaning forward, straining for the sound that wasn't there.

The bell actually did ring more than once. The first time it was some one who wanted to know what she would like for a wedding present. And then Peter Severn rang up to say they had had another cable from Trevor, and that there was practically no hope. Peter wanted to come round and see her. Laura said, “No—please don't.” When she had rung off, there was a strange agonized happiness in her heart. Peter said there was no hope—but he didn't know. She knew that the wheels were turning, and that Jim was going to be free. Jim was going to be safe. For a moment the joy leapt right up through everything. Nothing mattered if Jim was safe.

Then Jenny rang up about her bridesmaid's dress. Did Laura think that the bodice could bear to be the least thing tighter? Jenny had waked up in the night and wondered about it. Laura's answer was quite gentle and composed. She thought the dress was very nice as it was. She didn't think it would be worth while to alter it.

At seven o'clock Peter Severn rang her up again.

“Laura——”

She knew at once from his voice that he had news. Her heart seemed to lift and turn over.

“Laura—we've had another cable from Trevor! Marvellous news! I say, I can't break it, or anything—but he's free! They've let him go! It's the most amazing thing—because I don't mind telling you now that nobody thought there was an earthly chance. It's great—isn't it?”

“Yes,” said Laura—“it's great.”

“Won't you let me come round? Are you all right?”

There was something in Laura's voice that Peter had never heard in a voice before. He didn't know what it was, and it worried him.

“I say—
are
you all right?”

“Quite all right, Peter.”

Laura hung up the receiver.

Jim was safe. Jim was free. It was true—but not quite true until she had heard him speak. It would be another twelve hours before she could hear his voice.

She lay all night in the dark and waited. The hours went slowly. She lay quite still with her head turned towards the open sitting-room door. At the first sound of the bell she must be ready. She couldn't look beyond the moment when her bell would ring. She never thought once of how she would answer Jim Mackenzie when he spoke to her.

It was between seven and eight in the morning that the bell rang.

Laura's hand was quite steady as she pressed the receiver to her ear. There was a thrumming noise on the wire. The operator said,

“Are you there? Berlin wants you.”

Laura said, “I'm here.”

Then she heard Jim Mackenzie say, “
Laura.
”

CHAPTER VI

After the last sound of Jim Mackenzie's voice had died away, Laura sat on by the telephone for a long time. She continued to hold the receiver in her hand and to stare fixedly down at the table on which the instrument stood. There were no conscious thoughts in her mind. Everything had come to a dead stop.

Presently Amelia came in. She said, “Oh, Miss Laura!” and sniffed and said, “Oh, Miss Laura!” again. She had been crying and her eyes were red and looked smaller than ever.

Laura had not shed a single tear. When Amelia came in she got up, went into her bedroom, and dressed herself. She was rather slower than usual, but she did all the things that she was accustomed to do. She put on a dark plain dress and then went back into the sitting-room.

Basil Stevens found her sitting in an upright chair with her hands folded in her lap.

“She's not fit to see anyone, unless it was a doctor,” said Amelia in the hall. “What's been a-happening to make her look like this? That's what I want to be told.”

Basil Stevens turned a hard look on her.

“You had better ask her,” he said, and walked past her.

When he had shut the door, he stood looking down at Laura with a frown. Her appearance alarmed him. She looked as if she hardly knew that he was there. He spoke in a loud, abrupt voice.

“Well? Has he rung up? Has Mackenzie rung up?”

Laura had not moved when he came in. She looked past him and said,

“Yes.” There was no expression in her voice.

“He rang up from Berlin?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that reassures you—doesn't it? I can tell you he's lucky to be alive. So that's all right. And now for our arrangements. Have you packed?”

A light tremor passed over her.

He repeated his question in a raised voice.

She made an effort then and looked at him.

“Why should I pack?”

“Are you proposing to stay here? Have you forgotten that you are marrying me?”

Into Laura's tragic eyes there came a startled look.

“But not really!” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“I couldn't marry you
really
. You know that. You said it was—a matter of business.”

“Yes—yes, of course. Don't imagine that I have the least desire to force myself upon you. It's a matter of business. But you can't stay here—you must come away with me.”

“Why?” said Laura.

He threw out his hands with one of those sudden gestures of his.

“Do you, then, want to stay here and meet Mackenzie?”

She quivered as if he had struck her, and at once he spoke soothingly, his one concern now to get her through the marriage without a breakdown.

“Come! Don't you see that it will be easier for everyone? I have a house in the country where you can be quiet. You do not want just now to meet people, to answer questions.”

Laura shuddered.

She said, “No,” and looked down at her clasped hands.

“
Now,
” he said—“have you written to Mackenzie?”

She moved her head slightly,

“You haven't. But I think you must write.”

Laura said, “I can't!” He could barely catch the words.

“I will tell you what to say,” said Basil Stevens briskly. He pulled her chair round until it faced the writing-table. “I think you must write—it will be kinder to him. Besides, unless he hears it from yourself, he will not believe it.”

A frightful pang pierced Laura's numb heart. She had not felt anything for a long time—not since the last sound of Jim's voice had died away; but now for a moment she felt again, Jim trusted her so much that only she herself could kill his trust. That was the last and most dreadful pang.

Basil Stevens patted her shoulder.

“Since it has to be done, it is better to do it quickly.”

For the first time there was some kindness in his voice. He was, in fact, sorry for her, and very anxious lest she should collapse and be unable to go through with the marriage. He put a pen in her hand.

“You can make it quite short,” he said.

Laura stared down at the block before her.

“There's nothing to say.”

“I will tell you what to say. Write, ‘I am marrying Basil Stevens to-day at the Chelsea registry office.' Yes, write the date first. There! You see that is quite easy. And now sign your name.”

Laura wrote the words: “I am marrying Basil Stevens to-day at the Chelsea registry office.” Then she wrote, “Laura”; and whilst Basil Stevens reached for an envelope, she added three shaky words below the signature and turned the page so that he should not see what she had written.

When she had addressed the envelope, Basil Stevens said,

“Now you will write to your aunt. You will say the same thing. It is all that is needed—except that you can say, if you like, that you are hoping to see her when she returns.”

Laura wrote mechanically. When she had finished, Basil Stevens rang the bell.

“What have you told your maid?”

“Nothing.”

He turned to meet Amelia with a shrug.

“Your mistress is going away. Pack what she will require for a month.”

Amelia sniffed.

“Miss Laura!” She sniffed again. “Miss Laura! You're
not
a-going away!”

Laura turned with an effort.

“Yes. Will you pack my things.”

Amelia ran to her.

“
Miss Laura
—what's the matter? What's he been a-doing or a-saying to make you like this?”

Laura put her hand to her head.

“I can't talk about it,” she said. “Will you pack my things, Amelia. And when Mr Mackenzie comes, will you give him this letter.”

Amelia stared at the letter. The tears began to run down her cheeks.

“Oh, Miss Laura!” she said. “What are you a-going to do?”

“I'm going to marry Mr Stevens,” said Laura in a distant gentle voice. “Now will you please go and pack my things for me.”

Laura Cameron was married to Basil Stevens at a little after noon. He had found it possible to advance the time. When Laura was asked whether she took him for her husband, she remained silent for so long that the registrar repeated the question. He was accustomed to all sorts of brides. Sometimes they blushed, and sometimes they giggled; sometimes they looked happy and sometimes they looked bored; often they appeared to be impenetrably stupid. He was quite accustomed to having to repeat his questions, but as he repeated this one, something stirred in him. Laura was looking past him with a blank lost look which he found disquieting. He coughed, raised his voice, and put his question sharply. This time Laura answered it, her voice quite clear and steady.

It is the easiest thing in the world to be married in a registry office. It needs so few words, so very few words, to swear a life away.

Laura received a marriage certificate, which she put into her hand-bag. Then she came out of the room and into the street. There was a car waiting there. She got into the car, and as Basil Stevens followed her and shut the door, she leaned back into the corner with a rushing noise in her ears. It was like the rushing of a tremendous sea. She went down into it and it closed over her.

CHAPTER VII

Jim Mackenzie arrived in London at about eleven o'clock on Monday morning. It was one of those days that halt between frost and fog. The gloomy yellow sky appeared to touch the housetops. The air was stinging cold.

Jim rang the bell of the flat, and waited with the most exquisite thrill of anticipation for it to open. To come back to Laura was about the best thing on earth at any time, but to come back to Laura from prison and from the sordid edge of death was something that simply couldn't be put into words. And in four days more they would be married.

The door was slow in opening, slow even after it had begun to move and draw in. Amelia looked round the edge of it with reddened eyes. Something caught Jim Mackenzie by the heart. He had talked to Laura on Friday, and this was Monday. Nothing could have happened since Friday.

“Where's Miss Laura?” he said sharply.

Amelia sniffed, gulped, and opened the door a little wider. He pushed past her into the hall, and the first thing that he saw was an orange envelope on the table.

“Is that my telegram? Where's Miss Laura?”

“I don't know, I'm sure, sir.”