He shook hands with her and seemed very pleased. “What on earth are you eating?” he asked them.
“Lobster,” they answered. He frowned. “But,” he said, “you’ll have indigestion, and you’re drinking beer too! Good God!” He sat down.
“I don’t mean to interfere, of course,” said Mr. Copperfield, “but it’s very bad. Have you had breakfast?”
“I don’t know,” said Mrs. Copperfield purposely. Peggy Gladys laughed. Mr. Copperfield raised his brows.
“You must know,” he murmured. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
He asked Peggy Gladys where she was from.
“I’m from Panama,” she told him, “but I’m half Irish and half Javanese.”
“I see,” said Mr. Copperfield. He kept smiling at her.
“Pacifica’s asleep,” said Mrs. Copperfield suddenly.
Mr. Copperfield frowned. “Really,” he said, “are you going back there?”
“What do you think I’m going to do?”
“There isn’t any point in staying here much longer. I thought we’d pack. I’ve made arrangements in Panama. We can sail tomorrow. I have to phone them tonight. I’ve found out a lot about the various countries in Central America. It might be possible for us to stay on a kind of cattle ranch in Costa Rica. A man told me about it. It’s completely isolated. You have to get there on a river boat.”
Peggy Gladys looked bored.
Mrs. Copperfield put her head in her hands.
“Imagine red and blue guacamayos flying over the cattle,” Mr. Copperfield laughed. “Latin Texas. It must be completely crazy.”
“Red and blue guacamayos flying over the cattle,” Peggy Gladys repeated after him. “What are guacamayos?” she asked.
“They’re tremendous red and blue birds, more or less like parrots,” said Mr. Copperfield. “As long as you are eating lobster I think I shall have ice cream with whipped cream on top.”
“He’s nice,” said Peggy Gladys.
“Listen,” said Mrs. Copperfield, “I feel sick. I don’t think I can sit through the ice cream.”
“I won’t take long,” said Mr. Copperfield. He looked at her. “It must be the lobster.”
“Maybe I’d better take her to my Hotel Granada,” said Peggy Gladys, jumping to her feet with alacrity. “She’ll be very comfortable there. Then you can come after you’ve eaten your ice cream.”
“That seems sensible, don’t you think so, Frieda?”
“No,” said Mrs. Copperfield vehemently, clutching at the chain she wore around her neck. “I think I’d better go right straight back to the Hotel de las Palmas. I must go. I must go immediately.…” She was so distraught that she rose from the table, forgetting her pocketbook and her scarf, and started to leave the restaurant.
“But you’ve left everything behind you,” Mr. Copperfield called out after her.
“I’ll take them,” exclaimed Peggy Gladys. “You eat your ice cream and come later.” She rushed after Mrs. Copperfield and together they ran down the suffocatingly hot street towards the Hotel de las Palmas.
Mrs. Quill was standing in the doorway drinking something out of a bottle.
“I’m on the cherry-pop wagon until dinner time,” she said.
“Oh, Mrs. Quill, come up to my room with me!” said Mrs. Copperfield, putting her arms around Mrs. Quill and sighing deeply. “Mr. Copperfield is back.”
“Why don’t you come upstairs with me?” said Peggy Gladys. “I promised your husband I’d take care of you.”
Mrs. Copperfield wheeled round. “Please be quiet,” she shouted, looking fixedly at Peggy Gladys.
“Now, now,” said Mrs. Quill, “don’t upset the little girl. We’ll have to be giving her a honey bun to quiet her. Of course it took more than a honey bun to quiet me at her age.”
“I’m all right,” said Peggy Gladys. “Will you kindly take us to her room? She’s supposed to be flat on her back.”
The young girl sat on the edge of Mrs. Copperfield’s bed with her hand on Mrs. Copperfield’s forehead.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “You look very badly. I wish you wouldn’t be so unhappy. Couldn’t you possibly not think about it now and think about it some other day? Sometimes if you let things rest … I’m not sixteen, I’m seventeen. I feel like a child. I can’t seem to say anything unless people think I’m very young. Maybe you don’t like the fact that I’m so fresh. You’re white and green. You don’t look pretty. You looked much prettier before. After your husband has been here I’ll take you for a ride in a carriage if you like. My mother’s dead,” she said softly.
“Listen,” said Mrs. Copperfield. “If you don’t mind going away now … I’d like to be by myself. You can come back later.”
“What time can I come back?”
“I don’t know; come back later; can’t you see? I don’t know.”
“All right,” said Peggy Gladys. “Maybe I should just go downstairs and talk to that fat woman, or drink. Then when you’re ready you can come down. I have nothing to do for three days. You really want me to go?”
Mrs. Copperfield nodded.
The girl left the room reluctantly.
Mrs. Copperfield started to tremble after the girl had closed the door behind her. She trembled so violently that she shook the bed. She was suffering as much as she had ever suffered before, because she was going to do what she wanted to do. But it would not make her happy. She did not have the courage to stop from doing what she wanted to do. She knew that it would not make her happy, because only the dreams of crazy people come true. She thought that she was only interested in duplicating a dream, but in doing so she necessarily became the complete victim of a nightmare.
Mr. Copperfield came very quietly into her room. “How do you feel now?” he asked.
“I’m all right,” she said.
“Who was that young girl? She was very pretty — from a sculptural point of view.”
“Her name is Peggy Gladys.”
“She spoke very well, didn’t she? Or am I wrong?”
“She spoke beautifully.”
“Have you been having a nice time?”
“I’ve had the most wonderful time in my whole life,” said Mrs. Copperfield, almost weeping.
“I had a nice time too, exploring Panama City. But my room was so uncomfortable. There was too much noise. I couldn’t sleep.”
“Why didn’t you take a nicer room in a better hotel?”
“You know me. I hate to spend money. I never think it’s worth it. I guess I should have. I should have been drinking too. I’d have had a better time. But I didn’t.”
They were silent. Mr. Copperfield drummed on the bureau. “I guess we should be leaving tonight,” he said, “instead of staying on here. It’s terribly expensive here. There won’t be another boat for quite a few days.”
Mrs. Copperfield did not answer.
“Don’t you think I’m correct?”
“I don’t want to go,” she said, twisting on the bed.
“I don’t understand,” said Mr. Copperfield.
“I can’t go. I want to stay here.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you can’t plan a trip that way. Perhaps you don’t intend to plan a trip.”
“Oh, I’ll plan a trip,” said Mrs. Copperfield vaguely.
“You will?”
“No, I won’t.”
“It’s up to you,” said Mr. Copperfield. “I just think you’ll be missing a great deal by not seeing Central America. You’re certain to get bored here unless you start to drink. You probably will start to drink.”
“Why don’t you go, and then come back when you’ve seen enough?” she suggested.