Let it come down Page 6

  When she was happy she invariably invented a reason for not being able to remain so. And now, to follow out her pattern, she allowed an idea to occur to her which counteracted all her happiness. She had made an arrangement with Madame Papaconstante whereby it was agreed that on the nights when Hadija did not go with her to the Metropole she was to remain at home with her parents. Madame Papaconstante had assured her that the girl did not even put in appearance at the bar those evenings, and up until now Eunice had not thought to question the truth of her statements. But today, when Conchita returned from the market with her arms full of flowers, notwithstanding the fact that Hadija had left the room only three hours before and did not expect to return until tomorrow night, Eunice suddenly decided she wanted her back again that same evening. She would get her some very special gift in the Rue du Statut, and they would have a little extra celebration, surrounded by the lilies and poinsettias. She would go to the Bar Lucifer and have Madame Papaconstante send someone to fetch her.

  It was at this moment that the terrible possibility struck her: what if she found Hadija in the bar? If she did, it could only mean that she had been there all along, that the parent story was a lie, that she lived in one of the rooms behind the bar, perhaps. (She was working up to the climax.) Then the place was a true bordel, in which case — it had to be faced — there was a likelihood that Hadija was entertaining the male customers in bed on those other nights.

  The idea stirred her to action: she threw her notebook on to the floor and jumped out of bed with a violence that shook the room and startled Conchita. When she had dressed she wanted to start out immediately for the Bar Lucifer, but she reflected on the uselessness of such a procedure. She must wait until night and catch Hadija in flagrante delictu. By now there was no room in her mind for doubt. She was convinced that Madame Papaconstante had been deceiving her. Assailed by memories of former occasions when she had been trusting and complacent only to discover that her happiness had rested wholly on falsehoods, she was all too ready this time to seek out the deception and confront it.

  As the afternoon advanced toward evening she grew more restless, pacing back and forth from one side of the room to the other, again and again going out onto the balcony and looking toward the harbor without seeing it. She even forgot to walk up to the Rue du Statut for Hadija’s present. A black cloud gathered above the harbor and twilight passed swiftly into night. Gusts of rain-laden wind blew across the balcony into the room. She shut the door and decided, since she was dressed, to go downstairs for dinner rather than have it in bed. The orchestra and the other diners would help to keep her mind occupied. She could not hope to find Hadija at the bar before half-past nine.

  When she got downstairs it was too early for dinner. There was no electricity tonight; candles burned in the corridors and oil lamps in the public rooms. She went into the bar and was engaged in conversation by an elderly retired captain from the British Army, who insisted on buying her drinks. This annoyed her considerably because she did not feel free to order as many as she wanted. The old gentleman drank slowly and reminisced at length about the Far East. «Oh God oh God oh God,» she said to herself. «Will he ever shut up and will it ever be eight-thirty?»

  As usual the meal was execrable. However, eating in the dining room she at least found the food hot, whereas by the time it reached her bed it generally had ceased being even Warm. Between orchestral numbers she could hear the wind roaring outside, and the rain streamed down the long French windows of the dining room. «I shall get soaked,» she thought, but the prospect was in no way a deterrent. On the contrary, the storm rather added to the drama in which she was convinced she was about to participate. She would plod through the wet streets, find Hadija, there would be an awful scene, perhaps a chase through the gale up into a forsaken corner of the Casbah or to some solitary rock far out above the strait. And then would come the reconciliation in the windy darkness, the admissions and the promises, and eventually the smiles. But this time she would bring her back to the Metropole for good.

  After she had finished eating she went up to her room, changed into slacks, and slipped into a raincoat. Her hands were trembling with excitement. The air in her room was weighted down with the thick sweetness of the lilies. The candle flames waved back and forth as she moved about in haste, and the shadows of the flowers crouched, leapt to the ceiling, returned. From a drawer in one of her trunks she took a large flashlight. She stepped out, closing the door behind her. The candles went on burning.

  V

  It looked like a bright spring day. The sun shone on the laurel that lined the garden path where Sister Inez strolled, clutching her prayer book. Until she arrived at the fountain her long black skirts hid the fact that she was barefoot. It was the sort of garden whose air one would expect to be heavy with the sweet smell of jasmine, and although they did not appear, one could imagine birds twittering and rustling their wings with nervous delight in the shadow of the bushes. Sister Ine/ stretched forth one shining foot and touched the water in the basin; the sky glimmered whitely. From the bushes Father Jose watched, his eyes bright as he followed the two little feet moving one behind the other through the clear water. Suddenly Sister Inez undid her cowl, which was fastened with a snap-hook under her chin: her black tresses fell over her shoulders. With a second brusque gesture she unhooked her garments all the way down (it was remarkably easy), opened them wide, and turned to reveal a plump young white body. A moment later she had tossed her apparel upon a marble bench and was standing there quite naked, still holding her little black book and her rosary. Father Jose’s eyes opened much wider and his gaze turned heavenwards: he was praying for the strength to resist temptation. In fact, the words PIDIENDO EL AMPARO DIVINO appeared in print across the sky, and remained there, shaking slightly, for several seconds. What followed was not a surprise to Dyar, since he had not expected the divine aid to be forthcoming, nor was he startled when a moment later three other healthy young nuns made their entrances from as many different directions to join the busy couple in the fountain, thus making the pas de deux into an ensemble number.

  Subsequently the scene of activities was shifted to an altar in a nearby church. Dyar, sensing that the frenzy of this episode announced the imminent end of the film, nudged Thami and offered him a cigarette which, after awakening with a jolt, he accepted automatically and allowed to be lighted. By the time he was really conscious, the images had come to an abrupt finish and the screen was a blinding square of light. Dyar paid the first fat man, who stood in the hallway still yawning, and they went downstairs. «If two gentlemen wishing room one hour» — the fat man began, calling after them. Thami shouted something up at him in Spanish; the young man let them out into the empty street where the wind blew.

  When Eunice Goode stepped into the little bar she was disappointed to see that Hadija was not in sight. She walked up to the counter, looking fixedly at the girl who stood behind it, and noted with pleasure the uneasiness her sudden appearance was causing in the latter’s behavior. The girl made an absurd attempt to smile, and slowly backed against the wall, not averting her gaze from Eunice Goode’s face. And, indeed, the rich foreign lady’s mien was rather formidable: her plump cheeks were suffused with red, she was panting, and under her heavy brows her cold eyes moved with a fierce gleam.

  «Where is everyone?» she demanded abruptly.

  The girl began to stammer in Spanish that she did not know, that she thought they were out that way. Then she made for the end of the bar and tried to slip around it to get to the door that led back to the other rooms. Eunice Goode pushed her with her cane. «Give me a gin,» she said. Reluctantly the girl returned to where the bottles were and poured out a drink. There were no customers.

  She emptied the glass at one gulp, and leaving the girl staring after her in dismay, walked through the beaded curtain, feeling ahead of her with the tip of her cane, for the hallway was dark.

  «Madame!» cried the girl loudly from behind her. «Madame!»
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  On the right a door opened. Madame Papaconstante, in an embroidered Chinese kimono, stepped into the hall. When she saw Eunice Goode she gave an involuntary start. Recovering, she smiled feebly and walked toward her uttering a series of voluble salutations which, as she was delivering them, did not prevent the visitor from noticing that her hostess was not only blocking the way to further progress down the hall, but was actually pushing her firmly back toward the bar. And standing in the bar she talked on.

  «What weather! What rain! I was caught in it at dinner time. All my clothes soaking! You see». She glanced downward at her attire. «I had to change. My dress is drying before the heater. Maria will iron it for me. Come and have a drink with me. I did not expect you tonight. C’est un plaisir inattendu. Ah, yes, madame». She frowned furiously at the girl. «Sit down here,» said Madame Papaconstante, «and I shall serve you myself. Now, what are we having tonight?»

  When she saw Eunice finally seated at the little table she heaved a sigh of relief and rubbed her enormous flabby arms nervously, so that her bracelets clinked together. Eunice watched her discomfiture with grim enjoyment.

  «Listen to the rain,» said Madame Papaconstante, tilting her head toward the street. Still Eunice did not answer. «The fool,» she was thinking. «The poor old god-damned fool».

  «What are you having?» she said suddenly, with such violence that Madame Papaconstante looked into her eyes terrified, not quite sure she had not said something else. «Oh, me!» she laughed. «I shall take a machaquito as always».

  «Sit down,» said Eunice. The girl brought the drinks, and Madame Papaconstante, after casting a brief worried glance toward the street, sank onto a chair opposite Eunice Goode.

  They had two drinks apiece while they talked vaguely about the weather. A beggar crawled through the door, moving forward by lifting himself on his hands, leaned against the wall, and with expressive gestures indicated his footless lower limbs, twisted like the stumps of a mangrove root. He was drenched with rain.

  «Make him go away!» cried Eunice. «I can’t bear to see deformed people. Give him something and get rid of him. I hate the sight of suffering». Since Madame Papaconstante did not move, she felt in her handbag and tossed a note to the man, who thrust his body forward with a reptilian movement and seized it. She knew perfectly well that one did not give such large sums to beggars, but the Bar Lucifer was a place where the feeling of power that money gave her was augmented to an extent which made the getting rid of it an act of irresistible voluptuousness. Madame Papaconstante shuddered inwardly as she watched the price of ten drinks being snatched up by the clawlike hand. Vaguely she recognized Eunice’s gesture as one of hostility toward her; she cast a resentful glance at the strange woman sprawled out opposite her, thinking that God had made an error in allowing a person like that to have so much money.

  Up to her arrival Eunice had fully intended to ask in a straightforward fashion whether or not Hadija was there, but now such a course seemed inadvisable. If she were in the establishment, eventually she would have to come out through the front room, since the back of the building lay against the lower part of the Casbah ramparts and thus had no other exit.

  Without turning her head, Madame Papaconstante called casually in Spanish to the girl behind the bar. «Lolita! Do you mind bringing me my jersey? It’s in the pink room on the big chair». And to Eunice in French: «With this rain and wind I feel cold».

  «It’s a signal,» thought Eunice as the girl went beneath the looped-up beaded curtain. «She wants to warn Hadija so she won’t come out or talk loud». «Do you have many rooms?» she said.

  «Four». Madame Papaconstante shivered slightly. «Pink, blue, green and yellow».

  «I adore yellow,» said Eunice unexpectedly. «They say it’s the color of madness, but that doesn’t prevent me. It’s so brilliant and full of sunshine as a color. Vous ne trouvez pas?»

  «I like all colors,» Madame Papaconstante said vaguely, looking toward the street with apprehension.

  The girl returned without the sweater. «It’s not there,» she announced. Madame Papaconstante looked at her meaningfully, but the girl’s face was blank. She returned to her position behind the bar. Two Spaniards in overalls ducked in from the street and ordered beer; evidently they had come from somewhere nearby, as their clothes were only slightly sprinkled with raindrops. Madame Papaconstante rose. «I’m going to look for it myself,» she announced. «One moment. Je reviens a l’instant». As she waddled down the hallway, running her hand along the wall, she murmured aloud: «Qué mujer! Qué mujer!»

  More customers entered. When she came out, wearing over the kimono a huge purple sweater which had been stretched into utter formlessness, she looked a little happier. Without speaking to Eunice she went to the bar and joked with the men. It was going to be a fairly good night for business, after all. Perhaps if she ignored the foreign lady she would go away. The men, none of whom happened to have seen Eunice before, asked her in undertones who the strange woman was, what she was doing, sitting there alone in the bar. The question embarrassed Madame Papaconstante. «A tourist,» she said nonchalantly. «Here?» they exclaimed, astonished. «She’s a little crazy,» she said, by way of explanation. But she was unhappy about Eunice’s presence; she wished she would go away. Naively she decided to try and get her drunk, and not wishing to be re-engaged in conversation with her, sent the drink, a double straight gin, over to her table by Lolita.

  «Ahí tiene,» said Lolita, setting the glass down. Eunice leered at her, and lifting it, drained it in two swallows. Madame Papaconstante’s ingenuousness amused her greatly.

  A few minutes later Lolita appeared at the table with another drink. «I didn’t order this,» said Eunice, just to see what would happen.

  «A gift from Madame».

  «Ah, de veras!» said Eunice. «Wait!» she cried sharply as the girl started away. «Tell Madame Papaconstante I want to speak to her».

  Presently Madame Papaconstante was leaning over her table. «You wanted to see me, madame?»

  «Yes,» said Eunice, making an ostensible effort to focus her eyes on the fleshy countenance. «I’m not feeling well. I think I’ve had too much to drink». Madame Papaconstante showed solicitude, but not very convincingly. «I think,» Eunice went on, «that you’ll have to take me to a room and let me lie down».

  Madame Papaconstante started. «Oh, impossible, Madame! It’s not allowed for ladies to be in the rooms».

  «And what about the girls?»

  «Ah, oui, mais ça c’est naturel! They are my employees, madame».

  «As you like,» said Eunice carelessly, and she began to sing, softly at first, but with rapidly increasing stridency. Madame Papaconstante returned to the bar with misgivings.

  Eunice Goode sang on, always louder. She sang: «I Have To Pass Your House to Get to My House» and «Get Out of Town». By the time she got to «I Have Always Been a Kind of Woman Hater» and «The Last Round-Up» the sound that came from her ample lungs was nothing short of a prolonged shriek.

  Noticing Madame Papaconstante’s expression of increasing apprehension, she said to herself with satisfaction: «I’ll fix the old bitch, once and for all». She struggled to her feet, managing as she did so to upset not only her chair, but the table as well. Pieces of glass flew toward the feet of the men who stood at one end of the bar.

  «Aaah, madame, quand-même!» cried Madame Papaconstante in consternation. «Please! You are making a scandal. One does not make scandals in my bar. This is a respectable establishment. I can’t have the police coming to complain».

  Eunice moved crookedly toward the bar, and smiling apologetically, leaned her arm on Madame Papaconstante’s cushion-like shoulder. «Je suis navrée,» she began hesitantly. «Je ne me sens pas bien. Ça ne va pas du tout. You must forgive me. I don’t know. Perhaps a good large glass of gin..».

  Madame Papaconstante looked around helplessly. The others had not understood. Then she thought: perhaps now she will leave, and went behind t
he bar to pour it out herself. Eunice turned to the man beside her and with great dignity explained that she was not at all drunk, that she merely felt a little sick. The man did not reply.

  At the first sip of her drink she raised her head, looked at Madame Papaconstante with startled eyes, and put her hand to her forehead.

  «Quick! I’m ill! Where’s the toilet?»

  The men moved a little away from her. Madame Papaconstante seized her arm and pulled her through the doorway down the hall. At the far end she opened a door and pushed her into a foul-smelling closet, totally dark. Eunice groaned. «I shall bring a light,» said Madame Papaconstante, hurrying away. Eunice lit a match, flushed the toilet, made some more groaning sounds, and peered out into the corridor. It was empty. She stepped out swiftly and went into the next room, which was also dark. She lit another match, saw a couch against the wall. She lay down and waited. A minute or two later there were voices in the hallway. Presently someone opened the door. She lay still, breathing slowly, deeply. A flashlight was turned into her face. Hands touched her, tugged at her. She did not move.

  «No hay remedio,» said one of the girls.

  A few more halfhearted attempts were made to rouse her, and then the group withdrew and closed the door.