The Man Whose Dream Came True by Julian Symons Read Free Book Online Page A

man spelling out the words. Then he got up, went into the bedroom and opened her case. She had taken clothes out of it last night, and now it was empty. Her handbag was on a chair. He opened it and spilled out the contents. Lipstick, keys – and a letter. The envelope said: ‘Miss Mary Tracey, The Cottages, Frankfort Manor.’ Tracey – the butler’s daughter. It was like some wretched stage farce. No doubt The Cottages were the servants’ quarters.
    ‘What are you doing?’ The words were whispered. She was watching him from the bed.
    He handed her the paper. There was a smell of burning. It was the toast in the kitchen. The smell pervaded the flat. Tears welled into her eyes. She did not speak.
    ‘Well?’ he said questioningly, although he knew the answer. ‘You’re Mary Tracey. The butler’s daughter.’
    ‘He’s a handyman.’
    ‘I suppose you’re a housemaid.’
    ‘I help in the house.’
    Another Doris. ‘That’s why you took me back. Because you knew nobody would be there.’ She didn’t contradict him. ‘And I believed you. What a fool.’
    She blew her nose. ‘Sometimes she gives me clothes and I wear them when I go into town.’
    ‘Your father’s in it too? I spoke to him.’
    ‘I told him I would speak if a friend of Fiona’s rang up. I thought–’ She didn’t say what she thought.
    ‘What the hell were you doing in the Golden Sovereign?’
    ‘I know Claude.’ Claude? ‘Armitage. He’s – he used to be a boy-friend of mine. I worked there for a bit, in the cloakroom.’
    A hat check girl. How could he have failed to recognise her for what she was? She went on.
    ‘But I do want to get away. And I do have that dream, I think of myself as a princess waiting for somebody. You’ve burned the toast. Shall I make some more?’
    Did she think he was going to sit down to breakfast with her? The thought of all the money he had spent, the flat, the food and drink, the roulette last night, rose in his mouth like bile. ‘You can leave. Any time. Now.’
    ‘You don’t want to go on with it? I suppose you wouldn’t. Still, let’s have breakfast.’
    She got out of bed and moved towards the kitchen. He took her by the shoulders. ‘I said you could leave now.’
    ‘I don’t see why you’re so het up. After all, you’ve had some fun out of it, and you’ve got plenty of money.’
    ‘Plenty of money,’ he said bitterly. A moment afterwards he regretted the tone in which he had spoken, but it was too late. She began to laugh.
    ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t got any money. Oh, that’s good, that’s really good.’
    ‘I spent it on you.’
    ‘“There’s plenty more”,’ she mimicked him. ‘So you were after my allowance? And I only said it because I didn’t want you to think I’d be too much of a burden. It really is funny.’ Her tone and accent changed so that he could not think how he had ever been deceived. ‘I suppose you fiddled this place too.’
    ‘It’s rented.’
    She stopped laughing. ‘But you’re clever. Why don’t we do something together?’
    ‘What?’
    ‘I’m not staying at home, you know, I’m getting out. This is what I want, what we both want.’ She put a finger in her mouth, bit a nail. ‘Let’s team up.’
    ‘Why don’t you just go?’
    ‘After breakfast.’ While she was eating her toast she continued to talk. ‘I’ve got a thing for you. And I’m not a fool, you know. We’d make a good team.’
    ‘I want you to leave.’
    She packed her things into the little suitcase. ‘Better luck next time. You might wish me that too.’ He did not reply. ‘Trouble is you’ve got no sense of humour.’
    When she had gone he lay on the bed and smoked a cigarette. He had several days to run before his week’s tenancy was out, but what use was the flat to him now? With less than fifty pounds of his money left he did what he had done before. He took refuge with Widgey.

PART TWO
    A Dream Of Loving Women
     
     
Chapter One
     
    Widgey had not