It was not as bad as it might have been if she had not been able to pay such a price, but it was still bad enough. It was worse than anything Erica had imagined; she was appalled at the responsibility she had taken on herself, although she knew that it was the only way out, and for three days her mind rocked back and forth between her fear for Miriam on the one hand and her fear for her mother and father on the other, if by some ill chance or through her father’s unpredictable intuitive processes, they should fail to believe Miriam’s story that she was simply feeling under the weather, when they returned home at dinner-time on Wednesday to find her in bed.
Except for a brief interval on Wednesday night after Charles and Margaret Drake had gone to bed, having noticed nothing out of the ordinary, when all in one moment of overwhelming relief, Erica realized that it was over and done with and between the two of them, they had got away with it, from beginning to end, she had almost no sense of reality. It had started as a nightmare, it continued as a nightmare, and it finished as a nightmare from which she gradually awoke over a period of days. By the week-end, if it had not been for the effect on Miriam, Erica would almost have been prepared to deny, even to herself, that it had ever happened.
On Monday night she had dinner with René in the flat which he had been sharing with his sister again since Anthony had been overseas. Until late in the evening she found it difficult to keep her mind on what he was saying; she was too tired, too lonely for Marc and too uneasy about Miriam, who was looking as though the bottom had dropped out of her world and as though she were feeling her way along, trying to find something solid to put her feet on.
It was about eleven when René elected to tell her almost casually that he was in love with her and still hoped to marry her, as he simply could not believe that she would ever marry Marc. His reasons for not believing it seemed to be much like those of Charles Drake and almost everyone else, so she found herself once more in the position of having to listen to the same arguments all over again. It never seemed to occur to anyone that you might be deathly tired of simply listening.
She interrupted him at last and tried to give him some idea of what was actually going on. Toward the end she said, "I can’t do anything. I can’t convince Marc unless I can convince my family first, and nothing’s going to convince them. Marc won’t be the cause of a final break between us. He just won’t, that’s all, partly because he wouldn’t do that to anyone’s father and mother, and partly because he thinks that if marrying him means that I have to give up my parents along with-well, whatever it is you have to give up when you marry a Jewish lawyer, and for whatever it’s worth, I don’t know-then it’s too much altogether".
She leaned over to put out her cigarette in the ash-tray on the coffee table beside her, and then lying back on the sofa again with her head resting on the arm, she said, "Marc knows perfectly well what’s going on at home. I guess, like Mother and Charles and the effect they have on me, it isn’t what I say when I’m with him, it’s the way I look. I’m not much of an actress, and I’m so scared and miserable most of the time nowadays that I guess I can’t help showing it, and of course when I do, Marc thinks he’s responsible for it, that if it weren’t for him, my life would still be just like a duck-pond, and he gets just that much more discouraged".
She stopped again, wondering why she was saying all this to René, whose point of view was essentially the same as her parents’ only more so, because he wanted to marry her himself. She smiled at him apologetically, and said finally, "So you see, René, my family hold all the cards. Provided they just go on doing nothing, they can’t lose, and I guess they know it. And if you put your money on the Drakes, probably in the long run, you won’t lose either".
When she got home shortly after one, Erica found a letter from Marc saying that he would probably have his forty-eight hour leave the following week-end and asking her to meet him in Ottawa on Saturday morning, and a note from her father on the hall table, telling her to call Operator 14 at Farnham, regardless of how late it was.
Anyone using the phone in the downstairs hall could be heard all over the house. Her father always slept with his bedroom door open, and she went into the kitchen and dialed long distance, wondering what it was all about. She knew no one in Farnham.
Operator 14 said, "Is that Miss Drake? It’s a personal call".
"Miss Drake speaking".
"Just a moment, please. I’ll connect you".
She sat on the edge of the white-topped kitchen table listening to a faint voice repeating, "Hello, New York-New York, please-hello, New York…" and then suddenly a man’s voice said in her ear, "47 Garrison, Captain Henderson speaking".
"On your call to Miss Drake in Montreal, Miss Drake is ready. Go ahead please".
"Hello", said Erica.
"Hello, Miss Drake, this is Jim Henderson speaking. Sorry to bother you so late but I’ve been trying to get in touch with you ever since around ten. I don’t know whether you remember me or not but I met you at the Ritz a couple of weeks ago…".
She could not remember meeting anyone named Henderson at the Ritz, but she said, "Yes, though I’m afraid I…"
"I’m a friend of Major Gardiner’s. As a matter of fact, it’s about him that I’m phoning you…".
"About John?"
"Yes, you see he…"
Erica interrupted. "I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong Miss Drake…".
"Oh. I was hoping you might have some idea where he is", said Captain Henderson, his voice dropping with disappointment.
Erica said, completely at sea, "Well, I know he has a flat here-I can give you the number if you like. And you can usually get him through Headquarters during the day…".
"Yes, Miss Drake", he said patiently, "I know that. But what I don’t know is where he is now. He’s supposed to be here. He came down on Monday, went up to Headquarters on Saturday afternoon, and hasn’t been heard of since".
"Do you mean John is missing?" said Erica incredulously.
"If it were anyone else, I’d say ’missing’ isn’t the word for it!"
She said, "Just a minute, please. I’ll get my sister".
"I beg your pardon?"
"I’ve been trying to tell you, you’ve got the wrong Miss Drake. John is a friend of my sister Miriam. If you’ll hold on a minute, I’ll go and wake her and find out if she knows anything…".
"I’d like to talk to her myself, if you don’t mind".
"No, certainly".
Erica ran up the back stairs, down the hall and into Miriam’s room where she shook her by one shoulder saying quietly, "Wake up, Mimi-wake up, darling!"
"I’m awake". She turned over, opened her dark eyes and asked, "What’s the matter?"
"John’s missing. He’s been missing for two days, apparently. Someone’s just called from Farnham-someone named Captain Henderson. He got me by mistake. I guess he must have called the first time, after you went to bed and Charles didn’t think of asking whether he meant you or not".
She stared at Erica, fully awake now, then suddenly got up. "Which phone is it?"
"The kitchen. I didn’t want to make a noise".
"Come down with me, Eric".
She did not stop to put on shoes or a dressing-gown but rushed ahead of Erica down the back stairs.
Into the phone Erica heard her say, "This is Miriam Drake speaking-Yes, Captain Henderson, I remember. What’s this about John? No, not since Saturday night, but wasn’t he supposed to have leave over the week-end? Oh, I see. What!" She put out one hand, feeling for the edge of the table so that she could lean on it, and said dully, "I’m afraid not. I don’t know where he’s likely to be, except the usual places. You know all those. Yes", she said, her voice so heavy that Erica looked at her in alarm, "yes, I think he had. All right. As soon as you hear anything, would you let me know, please?"