The Angel in the Corner (18 page)

‘I’m not on my own,’ Virginia said, clutching the fur cape across her chest. ‘I’m with someone, only I’ve lost him for a moment. Do you know him? Joe Colonna.’

‘Old Joe? Sure,’ said the man. ‘Got away from you, has he? He got bored with the fights and went in the office to have a drink with the governor. You won’t find him out here.’ He looked away from Virginia for a moment to shout: ‘Kill him!’ at the ring, and then turned back and said: ‘Want me to take you in there? Midge don’t like strangers barging in.’

Virginia followed him as he pushed back through the crowd
and sidled round the wall to a door in the far corner. He beat on it with his fist.

‘Who is it?’ The voice from inside was as high-pitched as a child’s.

‘It’s Terry. Got a friend of Joe’s here. Wants to see him.’

‘O.K.’

Terry opened the door and pushed Virginia inside. The door shut behind her, cutting down the clamour of the crowd to a dull roar. Joe was sitting at the table in a yellow sweater, his black hair shining under the naked light which hung from the ceiling. He did not look pleased to see Virginia.

‘Jin,’ he said, without getting up. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

‘I had to see you. I’m sorry.’ She felt foolish, standing by the door of the drab little room, with its bare floor and its stained walls hung with pictures of horrible, half-naked wrestlers. Midge was an elephant of a man, in a grey suit like an elephant’s baggy skin. He and Joe were staring at her, and she was conscious that her cape had fallen away from the front of her low-cut dress, but it would look more foolish to pull it together again.

‘Who is this, Joe?’ Midge asked, in his high, unresonant voice. His great flabby head hung slightly forward, as if it were too heavy even for his thick neck. His thighs, crossed one over the other, strained at his trousers. His hand on the table was like a bundle of fat red sausages. There was a bottle and glasses among the litter on the table, and an ash-tray like a dog’s dinner bowl, with the last cigarette end still smoking among the other twisted stubs.

‘This is Miss Martin,’ Joe said brusquely, as if her identity were not important. ‘You shouldn’t have come down here, Jin. How on earth did you get through the crowd in that – that nightgown?’

‘It’s not a nightgown. It’s my best dress.’ Virginia came forward to the table, wishing that one of them would get up and give her a chair. She felt limp and breathless after what she had been through to find Joe. ‘I was at a party with Helen, but something happened, and I left. Silly, I suppose, but I felt I had to tell you.’

‘What’s happened?’ Joe asked irritably. ‘Tell me what you want, and then you’ll have to go. Midge and I are busy.’ He picked up his glass.

‘I can’t tell you, when –’ Virginia looked uncertainly at Midge.

‘You mean you want me to get out?’ he asked tractably. ‘Turned out of my own office, eh?’ He cackled softly, and began the ponderous manoeuvre of getting to his feet. ‘Never let it be said that I wouldn’t oblige a lady. I’ll give you a few minutes, Joe, while I go and see how George is making out, but for God’s sake don’t let any more of your girl-friends come crashing in here. It disturbs my metabolism.’ He took a long look at Virginia, his heavy head swaying slightly from side to side, like a bull summing up a toreador. Then he sucked his teeth and said: ‘Not bad. Not bad at all,’ and shambled in his tent-like suit to the door.

When he had gone, Joe stood up. ‘Now listen, Jin,’ he said. ‘This is a bit thick. I can’t have you trailing me all over London.’

‘You won’t any longer. Helen’s just told me we’re leaving by plane the day after tomorrow. I came to – well, I just came to say good-bye.’

Why had she come? It was not to say good-bye. She had run to Joe, because it was the only thing she could think of in her distress and anger.

Joe came round the corner of the table and pulled the cape off her shoulders. ‘My God, that dress,’ he muttered. He stood in front of her, staring at her, gripping her arms painfully. ‘Why should you say good-bye? We never met. It’s finished, forgotten. You don’t look like anyone I know.’

‘You know me better than I know you,’ she said. ‘You know I don’t want to go away. You can pretend to forget me if you like, but I shan’t forget you.’

‘The old girl – your mother, is she rushing you off because of me?’

Virginia nodded.

The thought elated him. ‘Don’t go then,’ he said. ‘Come and live with me. That would give her something to gripe about.’

‘I couldn’t do that. Those things never work. It wouldn’t last, and then I’d be left with nothing. No family, no you, no
self-respect, nothing. I’ll have to go with her. Helen’s won this time. I hope she’s satisfied.’

‘Damn her eyes,’ he said. He moved his hands from her arms to the sides of her face. He pushed back her hair and kissed her, bending her back against the edge of the table. Then he suddenly pulled her upright, turned her round, and stood behind her with his cheek on her hair and his hand over her breast.

‘Listen, Jin,’ he said against her ear, ‘you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. God knows I’m not much good now, but if I lose you, I’ll probably end up in the gutter. Let’s get married, then no one but me can tell you what to do.’

Virginia looked down, and saw her heart beating violently under his hand. ‘You don’t want to marry me,’ she said shakily. ‘I thought you said you never wanted to marry.’

‘I did, but I’m not the man I was. Remember the song –
You Do Something To Me?
Listen, we’ll get married tomorrow. That will spike the old lady’s guns. God, I would like to see her face!’ He chuckled, rubbing his cheek against her hair. ‘Would you do it?’

She turned round and put her hands on his sweater, stroking them across his chest. ‘Yes, I would, but we can’t, Joe. There isn’t time. You can’t get married all at once like that.’

‘I can fix it. I know what to do.’ He laughed. They were both excited now, their eyes shining, intent on each other. ‘I know the dodges,’ he said. ‘I nearly got married in a hurry once before, only luckily I had the sense to send the girl to a doctor, and found out she was lying.’

‘You never told me that.’

‘I never told you a lot of things. I probably never will.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘You will,’ he said. He took her hands and pushed her away from him. ‘Here, put this fur thing on before Midge comes back. No one’s going to see my wife half naked. Go home now and pack some things. Be ready to clear out any time I call you. Your mother will only think you’re packing to go with her. You needn’t tell her anything.’

‘I must. It would be too unkind. I’ll have to leave her a note at least. But where will we go? We can’t stay at your place. She’d find us. She’ll get the police out. You don’t know Helen.’

‘We won’t be there,’ he said. ‘Oh, hullo, Midge. Yes, you can come in. We’re all through with the drama.’

Midge came in, and some men followed him. Outside, the wrestling was over. There was a shuffling, coughing hubbub as the crowd began to leave.

‘Where will we be?’ Virginia asked Joe, moving closer to him as the room filled up.

‘In Glasgow. After last night, I didn’t want to stick around. I wired Anderson that I was coming up after the job. You’ll come with me.’

‘This sounds interesting,’ Midge said. ‘What’s the deal, Joe?’

‘We’re going to be married.’ Joe looked round the room defiantly.

‘Well,’ said Midge, sitting down at the table with a thud and a sigh, ‘now I’ve heard everything.’

Virginia spent her wedding night in the night train to Glasgow, sitting up in a carriage with five other people, dozing fitfully, with her head on Joe’s shoulder. Joe slept for long periods, peacefully, with his dark lashes fanned out, and a slight smirk in the corner of his mouth. Virginia, sitting uncomfortably awake, squashed into the corner by his limp weight, would have liked to study him while he slept; but the woman opposite was awake all the time, and never took her eyes off them. When Virginia looked at her, she would shift her gaze slightly, but as soon as Virginia looked away, or closed her eyes, she knew that the woman’s eyes were on her again.

They were hooded, censorious eyes, and the woman was solid and masterful, in a creased plastic raincoat, with a hand-bag like a small portmanteau set firmly on the middle of her lap. What did she think of Joe and Virginia? Did she guess that they were newly married from the way Virginia could not help fingering the thin platinum ring on her finger?

Why did she look so disapprovingly because they lay against one another when they slept? Did she guess that they had eloped? Half dozing into a shallow dream, interwoven with the reality of the railway carriage, like two exposures on one negative, Virginia imagined that the woman knew the whole story, and was sitting there in judgement.

The night was interminable. The dark, sleeping land outside the steamy windows would never grow light and come to life. Joe would not stay awake and talk. He only wanted to sleep. Once, when he stirred and opened his eyes, Virginia said: ‘How can you sleep like that? I wish I could.’

‘You’d better,’ he muttered. ‘This is the last good night’s sleep you’ll get for some time.’ The woman opposite cleared her throat and scraped her stoutly shod feet on the dirty carriage floor, as if she had heard and understood.

The train stopped at a station long enough for them to go out and have tea and sandwiches. Then they got back into the
train and Joe went to sleep again, and it was three o’clock in the morning, the dismal slump between night and day.

What have I done? What have I done? Virginia cried to herself as the train rocketed her through the darkness. She had thrown up her mother, her job, her friends, everything she knew, to fly off on this crazy escapade with a stranger.

She must not allow herself to panic. There was nothing to panic about, she told herself, as she watched the grey veil of receding night draw gradually away before the coming dawn. This was no crazy escapade. It was a great adventure, an exciting plunge into living. Joe was not a stranger. He was her husband. They were pledged for ever, and she would not regret it. It would turn out well. Why should her luck change? Things had always turned out well for her as long as she believed that they would.

She would make a success of this, a greater success than anything she had ever hoped to achieve. Joe was clever, attractive, confident. With Virginia behind him, he would get where he ought to be. They would get away from Glasgow; but while he was working there, she would get a job on a newspaper, and they would save money together, and make a good start in London. They would have children, and she and Joe would never quarrel and make them feel in the way, as Virginia often had when she was young.

As morning came up sweetly on the sour Glasgow suburbs, she thought of her father and his wife, and wished that she could tell them she was married. Other men seemed to like Joe. Her father would like him, and be glad for her.

She thought of Helen, baffled and deceived, and felt more guilty than triumphant. Helen would have found the note long ago, yesterday evening when she came back from her round of farewell visits. What had she said? What did her face look like? Had she slept last night, or had she stormed about the flat, keeping Spenser from his bed to listen over and over to the same tirade? Would she accept what Virginia had done, and take the plane with Spenser, or would she stay to search for her and make trouble?

When the train at last panted to a standstill in Glasgow Central, Virginia stumbled out of it, stiff-legged and numb
with weariness. She saw a policeman standing near the ticket barrier. He was waiting for her, of course. The trouble was beginning.

‘Joe.’ She pulled at his arm. ‘Helen’s found out somehow. I told you she would. Look at that policeman. Oh, please do something. What shall we do?’

‘That dick’s not after you. Don’t start imagining things. Pick up your feet, you’re half asleep. Come on, and we’ll see if we can find a bed in this town.’

*

Joe rode back on a lurching Glasgow tram to the back street hotel where he had left Virginia. Well, this was marriage. Coming home to a woman, and knowing that she would be there. Would she nag at him, as other men’s wives did, because he had been so long away? It wasn’t his fault that he had had to chase all over the town after Anderson. He had done his best. No one could say that he had not tried.

Why prepare excuses? Virginia was not the nagging kind. He thought of her waiting for him in the small square room, which was all bed and dark wallpaper. He smiled, looking about him at the other men riding home on the tram. They were Glasgow men, stunted, grey-skinned, oppressed. None of them was going back to a young wife with a skin like petals, who could have married anybody, but who wanted him. No doubt they were content with their broad-beamed scolds. They could never imagine the triumph of stealing a woman from the enemy, of taking her out of her soft life, and making her live your way.

He walked through the pungent hall of the hotel, and up the worn stair carpet without smelling or seeing anything. He could not remember ever being so excited about a girl. He would have to watch himself. She was a virgin. He had sometimes joked with her about her name. Rather a feeble joke, but it had pulled him out of his anger at her stubborn determination to stay that way.

Virginia was lying in the high Victorian bed, asleep. She seemed to be half undressed. The strap of her slip had slid down her bare shoulder, and her thick dark hair was spread like a stain on the pillow. Joe shut the door quietly, his eagerness
dissolved for a moment into tenderness. God, let him be good to her! Let him not ever be fool enough to chuck all this away. What he had here seemed now like everything he had ever wanted. He went softly to the bed, but Virginia sensed him in the room, woke, and sat up, holding the bedclothes in front of her.

‘Hullo, darling,’ she said. It was the first time she had been sure enough of him to call him that. ‘You’re very late. I waited and waited, but I couldn’t keep awake. I think I’ve slept for hours. I’m starving. What happened to you?’