A Bed of Roses. George Walter Lionel
a gentleman waiting, mum,' she said, 'and 'ere's a telegram.' Came jest five minutes after you left. I've put him in the front room what's empty, mum. Thought you'd rather see him there. Been 'ere 'arf an 'our, mum.'
Victoria did not attempt to disentangle the hours of arrival of the gentleman and the telegram; she tore open the brown envelope excitedly. It only heralded the coming of Edward who was doubtless the gentleman.
'Thanks, Miss Briggs,' she said, 'it's my brother.'
'Yes, mum, nice young gentleman. He's all right; been reading the New Age, mum, this 'arf hour, what belongs to the lady on the third.'
Victoria smiled and went into the dining-room, where none dine in lodging houses save ghosts. Edward was standing near the mantlepiece immersed in the paper.
'Why, Ted, this is nice of you,' cried Victoria going up to him and taking his hand.
'I had to come up to town suddenly,' said Edward, 'to get books for the Head. I'm going back this afternoon but I thought I'd look you up. Did you get the telegram.'
'Just got it now,' said Victoria, showing it, 'so you might have saved the sixpence.'
'I'm sorry,' said Edward. 'I didn't know until this morning.'
'It doesn't matter. I'm so glad to see you.'
There was an awkward pause. Edward brushed away the hair from his forehead. His hands flew back to his watch-chain. Victoria had briefly written to him to tell him why she left the Holts. Fearful of all that touches women, he was acutely conscious that he blamed her and yet knew her to be blameless.
'It's a beautiful day,' he said suddenly.
'Isn't it?' agreed Victoria, looking at him with surprise. There was another pause.
'What are you doing just now, Vic?' Edward breathed more freely, having taken the plunge.
'I've just got some work,' said Victoria. 'I begin on Wednesday.'
'Oh, indeed?' said Edward with increasing interest. 'Have you got a post as companion?'
'Well, not exactly,' said Victoria. She realised that her story was not very easy to tell a man like Edward. He looked at her sharply. His face flushed. His brow puckered. With both hands he grasped his watch-chain.
'I hope, Victoria,' he said severely, 'that you are not adopting an occupation unworthy of a lady. I mean I know you couldn't,' he added, his severity melting into nervousness.
'I suppose nothing's unworthy,' said Victoria; 'the fact is, Ted, I'm afraid you won't like it much, but I'm going on the stage.'
Edward started and flushed like an angry boy. 'On the.. the stage?' he gasped.
'Yes,' said Victoria quietly. 'I've got an engagement for six months to play at Vichy and other places in France. I only get six pounds a month but they pay all the expenses. I'll have quite thirty pounds clear when I come back. What do you think of that?'
'It's.. it's awful,' cried Edward, losing all self-consciousness. 'How can you do such a thing, Vic? If it were in London, it would be different. You simply can't do it.'
'Can't?' asked Victoria, raising her eyebrows. 'Why?'
'It's not done. No really Vic, you can't do it.' Edward was evidently disturbed. Fancy a sister of his.. It was preposterous.
'I'm sorry, Ted,' said Victoria, 'but I'm going on Wednesday. I've signed the agreement.'
Edward looked at her almost horror-struck. His spectacles had slid down to the sharp tip of his nose.
'You are doing very wrong, Victoria,' he said, resuming his pedagogic gravity. 'You could have done nothing that I should have disapproved of as much. You should have looked out for something else.'
'Looked out for something else?' said Victoria with the suspicion of a sneer. 'Look here, Ted. I know you mean well, but I know what I'm doing; I haven't been in London for six months without finding out that life is hard on women like me. I'm no good because I'm too good for a poor job and not suitable for a superior one. So I've just got to do what I can.'
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