Luck of the Bodkins (14 page)
'She thought I was a sort of butterfly,' said Monty. 'And you know what butterflies are like. No solid qualities. Flitters and sippers. She thought I flitted and sipped.'
Reggie seemed to be finding some difficulty in speaking. He rose from his chair, paced the room, walked into the bathroom, turned on a tap, turned it off again and, from the sound, appeared to be beating a tattoo on a glass with one of Monty's toothbrushes.
'I say, Monty,' he said at length, his voice proceeding hollowly from the bathroom, 'I don't quite know how to break it to you, but I'm afraid I've made - with the best intentions -something of a bloomer.'
‘
Eh?'
'Yes,' proceeded the disembodied voice,
‘I
think one may fairly term it a bloomer. You see, I had the idea that the trouble between you and Gertrude was that she thought you a spineless piece of cheese. And when a girl thinks a man a spineless piece of cheese, there's only one way to make her get rid of the notion - viz., play up his popularity with the opposite sex - lead her to suppose that he is in reality a devil of a fellow, the sort of bloke it isn't safe to take your eye off for a second - in short, as you were saying just now, one of the butterflies and not the worst of them.'
Monty laughed. It was an amusing idea, and no doubt there was quite a good deal in it. Reggie had always been full of these whimsical theories.
‘I
see what you mean. Rather ingenious. Still, I'm glad you didn't tell Gertrude that about me.'
There was silence in the bathroom for a moment. Then Reggie's voice spoke, not unlike that of a remorseful ventrilo
’
quist.
‘I
think you're rather missing
the point, old man. You haven't,
if you don't mind my saying so, quite followed
me. I did.' ‘
What!'
'That's exactly what I did tell her, and I can understand now why she seemed so thoughtful as I left. A sort of pensive look
she had. You see, in my desire to spare no effort on your behalf, old boy, I'm afraid I rather spread myself. I pitched it quite fairly strong. As a matter of fact, what I actually told her was that she was totally mistaken in supposing you a spineless piece of cheese, because in reality you were the sort of chap who never had fewer than three girls on your hands at any given moment and were such a smooth performer that you could make each of them believe that she was the only female you had ever cared for in your life.
’
Here the speaker let fall into the basin what seemed to be
a
bottle of mouth-wash. The resulting crash drowned all competing sounds, so that it was only when it had died away that Monty became aware that he
was no longer in the state-room.
The young lady next door was in his midst.
Chapter 11
In the first shock of actual personal encounter with this, as one might say, almost legendary figure, Monty Bodkin, the historian must admit, failed rather signally to live up to the dashing reputation with which his friend Reggie Tennyson had credited him. Nothing in his manner and deportment in any way suggested the modern Casanova: nor, unless the fact that he flitted may be said to have placed him in that class, could anyone have behaved less like a butterfly.
Flit he certainly did. The intrusion had come at a moment when he was already tottering on his base, and its effect was to send him flitting backward so abruptly that he nearly cracked his skull on the framed notice which hung on the wall explaining to those who preferred not to drown during the voyage the scientific method of putting on a lifebelt.
Nor must this be taken as evidence of any unusual lack of
savoir-faire
on his part. Most people who had seen Lotus' Blossom only as a moving photograph were somewhat similarly affected when they met her in the flesh.
It was her hair that did it, principally. That and the fact that on the screen she seemed a wistful, pathetic little thing, while off it dynamic was more the word. In private life, Lottie Blossom tended to substitute for wi
stfulness and pathos a sort of ‘P
assed-For-Adults-Only' joviality which expressed itself outwardly in a brilliant and challenging smile, and inwardly and spiritually in her practice of keeping alligators in wicker-work baskets and asking unsuspecting strangers to lift the lid.
But principally, as we say, it was her hair that caused the eye of the beholder to swivel in its socket and his breath to come in irregular pants. Seeming on the screen to have merely a decent pallor, it revealed itself when she made a personal appearance a vivid and soul-shattering red. She looked as if she had been dipping her head in a sunset: and this, taken in conjunction with her large, shining eyes and the impression she gave, like so many of her sisters of the motion-picture art, of being supremely confident of herself, usually hit the stranger pretty hard. Monty, for one, felt as if he had just been run down by a motor-car with dazzling headlights.
He stood gaping silently, and Miss Blossom, perceiving that she had his attention, smiled that brilliant smile of hers and lost no time in opening the conversation.
'Dr Livingstone, I presume? But much changed. Or, if not,' she said, 'who?'
Monty could answer that. He may not have been mentally at his best, but he did remember his name.
'My name's Bodkin.'
'Mine's Blossom.'
'How do you do?'
'I'm fine, thanks,' said the lady agreeably. 'Yass'r, tol'able pert. What are you supposed to be doing in here?' 'Well-'
‘Where's Ambrose?' ‘
Well-'
This is his state-room, isn't it? Ambrose Tennyson.
’
·Well, no.'
Then the passenger list has gone haywire. Who does this bijou interior set
belong to, then?' 'Well, me.' ‘You?' ‘
Well, yes.' She stared.
‘
You mean it isn't Ambrose's at all?
’
‘
Well, no.
’
Something appeared to be amusing Miss Blossom. She clung to the dressing-table for support, laughing heartily.
'Listen, boy,' she said, dabbing at her eyes as the paroxysm spent itself, 'I've got a surprise for you. Grab yourself a load of this. Do you ever take a bath? Because, if so -
’
A strong shudder shook Monty.
'I've seen it.'
‘You have?' ‘
Yes.'
That stuff I wrote on
the bathroom wall?' ‘
Yes.'
‘
Some fun, kid, ha?
‘I
did it with my lipstick.
’
'I know. Undeliable.'
'Is it?' said Lottie Blossom, interested. 'I never knew that.
’
'So Peasemarch, Albert, informs me.'
‘
Who's he?'
The local steward.
’
'Oh, that guy? He had a run in with my alligator.' 'He informed me of that, too.'
Lottie Blossom considered the matter in this new light. ·So that stuff's there for the duration, is it? Well, well. Every time you take a bath you'll think of me.'
‘I
shall.' said Monty sincerely. 'You don't seem pleased.' ·Well, the fact is -'
'All right. I understand. Well,
‘I
'm sorry.' said Miss Blossom handsomely. 'And a girl can't say more than that, can she? I did it in a moment of impulse. It was meant for old Pop Tennyson. I don't suppose you know him?'
'Yes.
‘I
know him.'
'How do you know him?'
'We were at Oxford together.
’
'I see. What a man, yes?'
'Oh. quite.'
'He and I are engaged.' ‘
Yes.'
'And it seemed to me that, being encaged. I could hardly do less than - But listen. I don't follow this continuity at all. You being in here, I mean, and not Ambrose. On the passenger list it says as plain as anything "A. Tennyson".'
'R. Tennyson.'
'Sure. I know. But that's a mispr
int. It can't be R. Reggie Tenny
son's not on board.' 'Yes. he is.' 'What!'
'Yes. In fact...
’
Monty was looking at the bathroom door. It was now closed. But even so, he felt, Reggie must have heard their voices, and it surprised him that he had not long since come and joined the party.
The explanation was. in reality, simple. Reggie had certainly heard a female voice, but he had supposed it to be that of his cousin Gertrude. Reflecting on what he had told her, he imagined that it would not be long before she established communication with Monty. And he had no desire to meet Gertrude. There might, he foresaw, when they did meet, be some thoughtful explaining to do, and he wished to postpone the moment as long as possible.
What brought him out now - for an instant later the door of the bathroom opened and out he came - was the fact that Monty's announcement of his presence on board had caused Lottie Blossom to throw her head back and emit a piercing squeal of pleasure. She had always been devoted to Reggie, and the news delighted her. And as anybody who had once heard Lottie Blossom squeal was able ever afterwards to recognize the sound, Reggie came out, though in no spirit of joyous welcome. It was his purpose to urge his old friend to buzz off as quick as she knew how to, because with Ambrose prowling and prowling around like the troops of Midian there was no knowing when the jarring note might not be struck. The last thing Reggie desired
was to be caught by Ambrose hob
nobbing with Lottie in a state-room, and not even the fact that Monty might be considered to be acting as a sort of chaperon made the prospect any more agreeable.
What ensued, therefore, was one of those unfortunate meetings where the two principals do not see eye to eye. Lottie Blossom was all ecstatic joy. Reggie looked like a member of the Black Hand trying to plot assassinations while hampered by a painful gumboil. His manner was dark, furtive and agitated.
'Reggie!'
'S'h!
’
'Reg-GEE!' 'Shut up!'
Lottie Blossom bridled. Her feelings were wounded.
'Well, that's a nice thing to say to an old college chum! What do you mean by it? Aren't you glad to see me, you young spawn of a boll-weevil?'
‘
Of course. Rather. Quite. Only don't,' urged Reggie, looking nervously at the door, 'make such a dashed -'
'Whatever are you doing here?'
‘
I was having a word with Monty -
'Chump! On this boat, I mean.'
‘
I'm sailing.'
‘
Why?'
‘
Pushed off.'
‘
Pushed off?'
'Yes. Driv
en out into the snow. Family.' ‘
What?'
Monty felt that a little explanation might help. His friend's staccato methods were not making the situation as clear to Miss Blossom as could have been desired.
'His family,' he said, 'are shoving him off to Canada. You're going into some office or other, aren't you, Reggie?'
That's right,' said Reggie. His manner was distrait. He had sidled to the door and was evidently on the alert for prowling sounds without. 'The family have got me a job with some loathsome firm in Montreal.'
There was no question of Lottie Blossom not understanding now. The whole dreadful tragedy had been revealed to her in all its stark horror, and she was deeply affected,
‘
You mean they're making you
work?’
‘
Yes.'
‘
Work? You?
’
A sort of divin
e pity radiated from the girl. ‘
Reggie, you poor, unfortunate child, pome right here to mother!
’
'Come right here to mother and be comforted,' repeated Miss Blossom firmly. 'The idea of anyone being so brutal as to make you work! The all-in champion of the lilies of the field. The king of the toil-not-nor-spinners. I never heard of such a thing. Why, it's enough to send you into a nervous decline. Come
here,
Reggie.'
‘
I won't.
’
‘
‘I
want to kiss the place and make it well.'
'I dare say you do, but you bally well aren't going to. You don't understand the frightful trickiness of the position. Ambrose. ..'
'What about Ambrose?'
Having reached the door and got his fingers on the handle, Reggie felt a little easier.
'When I heard that Ambrose was going to Hollywood,' he explained, 'I offered to give him a letter to you. I didn't know then that you and he were engaged.'
'When did he tell you?'
'Almost immediately,' said Reggie in a pale voice, 'after
I
had told him how you and I used to whoop it up together.' 'You mean he's jealous?'
'He's as jealous as billy-o. Smear a bit of burnt cork on him, and he could step right on to any stage and play Othello without rehearsal. He's been following me all over the ship to see that I don't talk to you.
’
Reggie quivered. He was remembering that brotherly eye which had bitten into him like an acid. Miss Blossom, on the other hand, seemed pleased and flattered.
'Dear old Ammie! He's been that way ever since the evening at Biarritz when I shyly murmured "Yes." Remind me to tell you some time what he did to a Spaniard there, just because ... but we're wandering from the point. A girl can kiss her future brother-in-law, can't she? Of course she can. Hoity-toity ! What next! Kindly step this way, please.'
'Well, good-bye.' said Reggie.
There was nothing dilatory in the manner in which he turned the handle and slid out. and there was still less that was dilatory in the leap which Miss Blossom made in the direction of his vanishing form. Her intentions might have been those of a mother yearning to comfort, but the general effect was more that of a tigress bounding upon a lamb. The next moment, Monty was alone in the state-room, leaning limply against the wall. He was a good deal unnerved. All this sort of thing, he presumed, would have been the merest commonplace of everyday life in Hollywood, but to one who, like himself, was mixing for the first time in motion-picture circles it was rather breathtaking. He felt as if he had been plunged into the foaming maelstrom of a two-reel educational comic.
Dazedly, he listened to the noise of pursuit as it rolled along the corridor. What Reggie's emotions were he could only conjecture, but the lady herself was plainly in merry mood. He could hear her jolly laughter. He could, indeed, have heard it if he had been at the other end of the ship. Demure, even melancholy, on the screen, Lottie Blossom had a happy nature off it, and her lungs were good. When she laughed, she laughed.
Suddenly, however, there was a dramatic change. The laughter ceased abruptly, to be succeeded by a confused uproar, unmistakably sinister in its general trend. Voices made themselves heard. He recognized the clear soprano of Miss Blossom, the light baritone of Reggie, and competing with these a deeper note which brought back to him childhood memories of being taken to the Zoo to see the lions fed.
Then silence, and a few moments after that footsteps outside. Miss Blossom came in and sat down on the bed. Her face was flushed. She was breathing quickly. It was plain that she had been passing through some emotional experience,
'Did you hear all that?' she asked.
'I did,' said Monty.
That,' said Miss Blossom, "was Ambrose.
’
Monty had divined as much, and he waited with no little interest for further details. It was not immediately that these came, for his companion was busy with her thoughts and a powder-puff. Presently, however, she spoke:
'He came on us round the corner.'
'Oh?'
'Yes. I had caught Reggie and was kis
sing him.' ‘
I see.'
'And I heard a noise like a tyre expl
oding, and there was Ambrose.' ‘
Ah.'
Miss Blossom gave her nose a final dab, and put away the puff.
'Ambrose took it rather big.'
'I fancied I heard him taking it quite fairly big.
’
'He called me some most unpleasant names, and I'm going to have a word with him about it later. Love's love,' said Miss Blossom with spirit, 'but I'm not proposing to let any bimbo come the man of chilled steel over me just because I happen to kiss an old friend. Would you?'
‘
Would I what?
’
'I mean, wouldn't you?'
‘
Wouldn't I which?'
'Bawl Ambrose out for making such a boob of himself.
’
‘
Oh, ah.'
'What do you mean, "Oh, ah"?'
Monty was not quite sure what he had meant, beyond wishing to convey in a general sort of way that he would prefer, if it could be avoided, not to become embroiled in what was so obviously a purely personal misunderstanding. Fortunately, before he was obliged to state and define, she continued:
'The trouble with writers is, they're all loopy. I remember the fellow who did the dialogue for
Shadows on the Wall
stopping rehearsal once to tell me that when I said "Oh!" on finding the corpse in the cabin-trunk I must let the word come slowly out in the sh
ape of a pear. Well, I ask you,
And Ambrose is loopier than that
’
‘
Yes?'
‘
Yes, sir. You should have seen him at Biarritz.
’
‘
What did he do at Biarritz?'
‘
What didn't he do at Biarritz! Just because he pinched my leg.'
'Ambrose pinched your leg?'
'No, a Spaniard that I met at the Casino did, and by the time Ambrose had finished with him I guess he must have thought he'd been in a bull-fight It wouldn't surprise me if he wasn't running yet. It's only two months ago.
’
This revelation of the novelist's sterner side came as no surprise to Monty.
'Reggie tells me that Ambrose has always been a pretty hard egg.'
'Yes, and up to a point that's fine. A girl likes to feel she's going around with a fellow that she knows any moment he can sasshay up to Spaniards if they get fresh - and, mind you, Spaniards do get fresh - and ask them what the hell. But when he starts in behaving like King Kong purely because I was saying "Hello" to his young brother Reggie, that's not so good. I shall certainly have a word with Ambrose. I'm not standing for that sort of thing. Am I a serf?
’
Monty said no, she was not a serf.
'You're just about right, too, I'm not
a
serf,
’
agreed Miss Blossom. 'No, sir!"
Women are subject to swift and sudden changes of mood. Up to this point, nobody could have been more firm and resolute than this injured girl. Her lips were tight, her eyes aglow. But now, abruptly, those lips began to quiver, those eyes to film over, and with acute discomfort Monty became aware that, her case stated, she was about to have a good cry.
'I say!' he said, concerned.
‘I
say!
'
'Oomph,' whimpered Miss Blossom. 'Oomph.'
There are practically no good things to say to
a
girl who is moaning 'Oomph' in your state-room. The finest vocabulary will not serve a man here. It becomes a matter for the gentle pat and nothing but the gentle pat. You can administer it on the head, or you can administer it on the shoulder, but you must administer it somewhere. Monty selected the head, because it was nearest. Bowed in her hands, it offered a gleaming invitation.
'There, there,' he said.
She continued to moan. He continued to pat. And for some moments matters proceeded along these lines.
But there is one rather bad snare in this patting business, which should be pointed out for the benefit of those who may some day find themselves having to do it. Unless you are very careful, after a while you forget to take your hand off. You just stand there resting it on the subject's head, and that is apt to cause people who see you to purse their lips.
Gertrude Butterwick did. She came in just as Monty fell into this error. After patting for perhaps a minute and a quarter, he stood there in the attitude described. A sharp sound rather like a cat choking on a fishbone caused him to look round, and there in the doorway was Gertrude Butterwick pursing her lips.
Chapter 12
It was a moment fraught with embarrassment, and Monty recognized it as such. His first action was to remove his hand from Miss Blossom's hair with a swiftness which he could scarcely have excelled had that hair been as red hot as it looked; his second to utter a careless laugh. Finding, however, that this was coming out more like a death-rattle than the jolly guffaw for which he had intended it, he switched it off in its early stages and a silence fell upon the state-room. He looked at Gertrude. Gertrude looked at him. Then she looked at Miss Blossom, then at him again. After that, she took the Mickey Mouse from under her arm and placed it on the settee. Her manner in doing this was that of one laying a wreath on the grave of an old friend.
Monty found speech.
'Oh, there you are!' he said.
‘
Yes,' said Gertrude. 'Here I am.'
What a pity,' said Monty, moistening his lips slightly with the tip of the tongue, as if he were going to have his photograph taken, 'you didn't come earlier. You missed Reggie.'
‘
Oh?'
The way in which she spoke this favourite word of hers would not have commended itself to Miss Blossom's friend, the author of the dialogue of
Shadows on the Wall.
It did not come out slowly in the shape of a pear but with a rather horrifying abruptness, and Monty was compelled to moisten his lips again.
'Yes,' he said,
‘
you missed Reggie. He was here. He's only just left. And Ambrose. He was here. He's only just left. And the steward - he's only just left - he was here, too, a very pleasant, well-informed fellow of the name of Peasemarch,
And Ambrose. And Reggie. And this chap Peasemarch. We were quite a crowd.' 'Oh?'
'Yes. Quite a crowd we were. By the way, I don't think you know one another, do you? This is Miss Lotus Blossom, the film star.'
‘
Oh?'
'We saw her in that picture, you recall.
’
'Yes. I remember,' said Gertrude, 'that you admired Miss Blossom very much.
’
Lottie Blossom started like
a
war-horse at the sound of the bugle.
'What picture was that?'
'Lovers
in
Brooklyn
’
'You should have caught me in
Storm over Flatbush
’
Tell us all about
Storm over Flatbush,'
said Monty. 'I don't want to hear about
Storm over Flatbush
’
said Gertrude.
Embarrassment supervened once more. Its ugly shadow was s
till brooding over State-room C
25 when a large mop came in, followed by Albert Peasemarch.
'I've brought the mop, sir,' said Albert.
Then take it away again.'
‘
I was under the impression that you desired
a
mop, sir.
’
'Well, I don't.'
'Very good, sir,' said Albert Peasemarch stiffly. 'I was put to some considerable trouble to procure it, but if you now instruct me to take it back again, very good.'
Ignoring Monty in
a
pointed manner, he turned to Lottie Blossom.
'Might I have
a
word with you, Miss?
’
Lottie Blossom gazed at him wearily. She was not feeling
en rapport
with this man. It seemed to her that what the world wanted was fewer and better Peasemarches.
'You wouldn't,' she said, endeavouring to clothe this thought in speech, 'consider getting to hell out of here, would you, steward?
’