"My pearls."
"I'm awfully sorry."
'They've gone all over the floor."
"I'll get them. I'll find them. I'm terribly sorry. Please don't upset yourself. I'm sure we'll find them all."
Balthazar B on his knees. Under the bed and dresser. Carefully picking up the whitish round little gems. Gathered into the palm of his hand. And a last two, way in under there. Take off my jacket and squeeze in, gathering plentysome dust on the cuffs and sleeves. Just one shirt gone and three to go.
Millicent sitting on the edge of the bed. Her hand brushing back her hair. Lifting her chin as she peered across into the mirror. I suppose I could tell her the funny little story of how Beefy goes racing round the streets, pushing open doors of painting galleries and screaming in, fakes. But instead I must to the bathroom go and button back together again one's double breasted coat. And take a timorous pee. Or tell her that Beefy said there are too many baronets mixed up with buggery these days.
"I do hope they're all accounted for Millicent. I'll put them in this envelope and take them to Asprey's first thing Monday to have them restrung. I am awfully sorry."
"They were my mother's."
"I am terribly sorry."
"Given to me on my twenty first."
"You are twenty three now, isn't that correct."
"Yes."
"Well what say we just. Fm sorry Fve forgotten what I was going to suggest. I think I'll just go down for a moment to get some cigarettes."
"I didn't know you smoked."
" I haven't much done so before. As a matter of fact. Ill only be a moment."
Balthazar descending to the lobby. Crossing into the cozy oak panelled bar. The news of weather coming from the radio. A complex depression centered over England and moving west. Clouds and some showers are expected. Further outlook, rain moving east will cover all parts of southern England. And will not save me from melancholy and raving madness. As one steps to ask for a double brandy please. My God when will I ever become a man of the world. And put a noisy dirty lady sitting perched high on me spinning like a top, with her red hair waving and her light coloured shoes flying off against the walls. Perhaps it may happen after I have purchased my first cigar.
"May I have one please, that long one there."
"They're three and eight a piece, sir."
"That's very pricy but still I think I'll have one."
Balthazar B taking a sip of brandy and lighting his cigar. A little wooden bird behind the bar dipping and dipping into a jar. So hard to sit alone with one's thoughts now. After busting the beads. And chasing them all over the floor. Dear God when I think of the body of her. When all it needed was just to remain calm and look where one's hands were going. Up behind the hair. Get a newspaper now. And then one shall return. With some current topic of conversation. And have another try.
Balthazar B walked out across the lobby from the bar. To turn to look into the smoking room. The raised voices and opening front door and someone coming in. They say with cigars one doesn't inhale. You just go around puffing and stinking. No newspapers in the smoking room. Make an enquiry. Just wait till these two folk are served. Standing there 3i8 at the reception desk. Yes, right there, they stand in something familiar like a dream one had once somewhere and you think you're having it all over again. Because those two people, right there, in front of the open registration book. They look like the father and the mother of Millicent. And Fll just pass on now over here and wait. To stop. And turn again and look. My God. That is the mother and father of Millicent.
Balthazar B stood frozen thinly on the red tiled floor in his grey double breasted pin stripe suit. A silk shirt tiny knotted at the collar by a black silk tie with a three legged emblem sprinkled on it like stars. Millicent's mother and father turning as one, as the landlady pointed her finger right at me. And I took a deep intake of cigar. The smoke filling out my jowls and stacked and packed down my throat. To all explode at once. And send me staggering forward in a fit of coughing as these three folk watched. And two of them caught their breath. And two of them began to approach.
Balthazar B looking out from uncontrollably rolling eyes, gasping and speechless. The tints and hues of Millicent's mother somewhere near. And for no accountable reason one thinks of that distasteful English habit of wetting the finger and putting it in one's companion's ear. As Millicent's mother now points with her own finger towards the smoking room. Which one can hardly see. But follow this way. Beefy always ran to elderly blind old age pensioners to lead them safely across the street and have a joke with them on the way. As I step quite sordidly across into a blaze of socially ostracised eternity. Beefy always warned. Of what the English so expertly do. Is to take one's composure utterly away. Mine is gone. Left with only my green colour changing to alabaster white.
"As Millicent's mother I am shocked more than I can say. In fact Stephen please, would you order me a whisky, double. No need to go into why we're here, the fact is we are. And have seen the register with our own eyes. I am absolutely aghast and surprised at you. Certainly one never expected someone to whom the hospitality of one's own house has been offered to stoop as low as this. One can only ask now have we come upon this too late."
"No no you haven't."
"Where may I ask is Millicent."
"She's upstairs."
"I see. Poor girl. Taken to a place like this. Of all things. A hotel on a river. Is there an explanation. Or are you taking this matter casually."
"No madam. I'm not."
"Why aren't you speaking up. Or do you suppose more subterfuge will help. As since when is Crescent Curve suddenly in Mayfair. Or is the truth that you have deliberately taken my daughter here with the intention of ravishing her."
"No no I didn't."
"You didn't. You didn't ravish her. Is that what you're saying. With my daughter up there in the same bedroom, registered as Mrs. Balthazar B. You haven't ravished her."