Six Against the Yard. Margery Allingham
out. I used not to be like this always, did I, Polly? Did I?’
‘Of course you didn’t,’ I said. ‘You ought to go along to see a doctor.’
‘A doctor?’ She laughed. ‘Frank wouldn’t like me to do that.’
I tried to point out to her that it wasn’t much to do with Frank, but that made her laugh. She wasn’t bitter about him. She was very nice.
I was really frightened for her by this time and I remember sitting down at the foot of the couch and trying to get the trouble out of her.
But you’re helpless, you know, you’re so helpless when you’re only fond of people and haven’t any authority.
‘How are things going?’ I asked her.
She shot me a little sidelong frightened glance.
‘All right,’ she said dully.
‘What do you mean?—all right? How are bookings?’
‘Oh, good. Good. Frank says they’ve never been so good. He’s my manager now, you know.’
‘What! Old Tuppy gone?’ I was shocked. Tuppy had put Louie on the map years before.
Her mouth twisted. ‘Tuppy was killed. He would join up—over age, you know. Killed the first day he landed. He’s gone. Everybody’s gone.’
‘Except Frank,’ I said rather pointedly.
She was up in arms at once.
‘Frank’s over age and his chest’s weak. There isn’t a doctor on earth who’d pass him.’
I tried to be more cheerful.
‘Well, if money’s all right what are you worrying about? You’re not losing your popularity.’
She hesitated. ‘Money isn’t too good. We—we have to live extravagantly, you know.’
I looked down at her hands and she hid them behind her like a child.
‘What do you mean, have to live extravagantly?’
‘Oh, publicity,’ she said vaguely. ‘Frank—I—I mean, we’ve had a lot of betting losses too. I’ve never been in debt before, Polly, and now I’m getting tired. I get too tired to rehearse, and I’ve got to go on or I don’t know where we’ll be.’
‘D’you mean to say you haven’t saved anything?’ I said.
She shook her head. ‘Nothing. And now we’re getting old. I can feel it coming on. I’m still successful, but it’s not going to last. I don’t get the big hits I used to. The songs aren’t so good and one can’t go on for ever.’
‘Look here,’ I said, ‘you’ve worked all your life and your husband’s gone through your money and you’re tired, my girl. You want a holiday. Give it up for a couple of months. Go down to the country.’
She closed her eyes. ‘I can’t. I can’t afford it. I haven’t got anything I could sell, even. Besides, Frank wouldn’t let me.’
I told her what I thought of Frank. It took me a long time and when I’d done she smiled at me.
‘You’re wrong,’ she said. ‘You’ve never understood Frank, Polly, and you never will. He just doesn’t realise, that’s all. He’s so strong, so full of life himself.’
I remember putting my hands on her shoulders and looking down into her face.
‘Louie,’ I said, ‘you’re sacrificing yourself for that man and he’s not worth it. Now I’m going to say something that’s going to hurt you, but I’m an old friend and you’ve got to take it. I’ve heard all sorts of tales about Frank. What about this little ‘bit’ on at the Empire?’
I could see the colour fade out of her face under the make-up.
‘Oh, they’re talking about it, are they?’ she said. ‘Haven’t you heard about the others too? You’re a bit behindhand, you know, Polly.’
‘Gawd!’ I said, and I didn’t get any further because there was an almighty row outside the door and Louie was on her feet immediately.
‘Quick, let him in,’ she said. ‘We’ve had two barnies with the management already.’
He came in and I shall never forget him. You’d think that a mint of money spent on a man would at least make him fatter if it made him nothing else. A wizened little brick-red mannikin he looked, not even too clean.
He glanced round the room, ignoring me.
‘Where’s Eva? I told her not to leave you.’
‘I sent her out,’ I said. ‘I wanted to talk to Louie.’
He swung round and peered at me and she tugged my sleeve warningly.
‘Miss Oliver, I did not want my wife disturbed.’
Even his accent was wearing thin and, having decided that he had finished with me, I suppose, he returned to her.
‘We’re going on to a night-club,’ he said, ‘and if you’re asked to sing, damn well sing, because it’ll probably be your last chance with the shows you’re putting up here.’
‘My God!’ I said, and I began to tell him exactly where he got off.
He stopped me.
I’ve been on the stage all my life and I’ve never heard language like it. I could hear footsteps in the corridor outside and I can see Louie’s face as she turned to him imploringly to this day.
‘You’re drunk,’ I said at last when I could get a word in.
But he wasn’t. If he had been I could have forgiven him. He wasn’t drunk. He didn’t need drink. He was like it naturally.
‘Louie, for God’s sake leave him,’ I said.
That did it. The balloon went up. I’ve never had a row like it and I’ve been in a few. I remember turning to Louie in the middle of it.
‘He’s ruining you, old girl. And you’ve ruined him. He ought never to have had more than three pounds a week in his life. You’ve given him so much corn he’s blown his head off.’
Of course it didn’t do any good. I might have known. She stuck to him and stood by him even then while a crowd of his little girl-friends were waiting for him at the stage door in his own car, anxious to get every little bit they could out of him. Even then she stood for him, poor old girl.
He threw me out—physically. Took me out by the shoulders and pitched me into the corridor. I was wild. I was beside myself.
‘I’ll kill you for this,’ I said.
But when it came to it and I did kill him I wasn’t in that mood at all.
They came to live in my house at the end of the ’twenties. We all get old and I admit that the discovery came to me as a bit of a shock, but it didn’t throw me off my balance. It was the same sort of feeling I had when I realised that I couldn’t wear a ballet skirt any longer. Something had to be done about it. It was a pity, but it couldn’t be helped.
I left the stage and bought my house with most of my little bit of money. It’s not a grand house, but it’s just the place for me and a couple of little girls to run when the boarders do most of their own work.
I won’t tell you the exact address, but it’s up Maida Vale way, nearly to Kilburn, and it stands in a row with a lot of other houses which used to be very fashionable and are still respectable, in spite of the efforts of some people whom I have to call neighbours.
There are three floors, a basement and an attic. I live in the basement. There’s a little room for me and