Caught

Two more rooms to go and then she could do the corridors. The job was not too bad; if only there wasn't the constant, nagging worry about money. If she couldn't find a way to meet three months' rent in time... Mr Dane had offered her a loan, but she didn't trust him; she'd overheard a conversation about him and it seemed he asked an enormously high rent, and if you didn't pay up - Alice felt she was already in the downward spiral too deep. She had tried to find another job for the evenings, but as yet she'd not had any luck.

She slid her card through the slot of room 206 and wheeled her trolley inside. She shut the door and quickly surveyed the room. Hmm - single occupant, only one bed slept in. Tidy, clothes neatly put away, bed not too rumpled, no junk on the floor - nothing on the bedside table but a wallet... She stopped in her tracks. Her shameful thoughts made her hair stand on end and she sat down for a moment and pressed the palms of her hands into her eyes. Damn it all. If her mother had not been so ill, and all her own fault, too - she shook herself. Perhaps... she went to the bedside table and tried to block out her conscience.

Dave had flown in the night before on business. He was a quiet, soft-spoken man who knew exactly what he wanted, but who had found out life didn't always deliver the goods. His marriage had failed completely; it transpired his wife, who after a very short time continually found fault with her life and everything in it, not excluding him, had had lots of others and he had cleanly severed their bond. Her new boyfriend had been very rich and she had simply left without trying to bleed him white - she had done so when that next relationship had lost its shine for her. Bah, no more women for him. He had decided that life alone held too much appeal for him; he had been on his own for years now. Here, he could visit Gene Greenfield, a very old friend - they always spent a lot of time together talking. They shared a taste for classical music, jazz, sixties pop... Good company, Dave thought.

That morning he had had a slow and quite good breakfast, and then he had gone to the nearby tube station. He went to buy himself a ticket and found to his annoyance that he must have left his wallet in his hotel room.

He legged it back to his hotel fast, took the stairs for speed, dashed into the room and stopped short.

"Now what on earth do you think you're doing?" he said.

She froze and all colour left her face. Oh God. She turned around. "Er, I..."

"I see," Dave said as he fixed her with stern, unsmiling eyes. "I will call the management and let them deal with you."

"Please," she said almost inaudibly. "Please don't - I can explain - I will never get a job any more - I can try and keep you company while you're here - I..."

He cut her short; he would be late if he sorted this out now. "Good," he said. "Hand me my wallet. I expect you here tonight at six - and you had better think of a very good explanation indeed. I will not report you until then."

Fuming he made his way back to the tube station and he was only just in time for his first appointment.

That day's business went very well; but there was one thing that drove everything else straight from his mind. He had planned to visit Gene at his office at three but when he arrived at the old address the old brass nameplate was gone; instead there was a marble one indicating the edifice housed an insurance company he did not usually deal with. He raised his eyebrows and went in. The girl at the desk told him she was very sorry, but alas, Mr Greenfield had suddenly died last November. Yes, it had been a heart attack; she did not know what had happened to his widow.

Dave thanked her for the information and went out into the April sunshine. He felt completely dazed. How could he have missed this? Perhaps Louisa, Dave's widow, who did not care for him much had forgotten to inform him? He went into the nearest pub for a double whisky - he didn't usually drink during working hours, but he really needed a drink now. He conducted the afternoon's business almost automatically, and went back to his hotel room at five thirty. He sat down and started to compose a letter of condolences to Louisa. No matter what she did or didn't think of him, he always tried to round things off correctly.

While he was turning a tricky phrase in his mind there was a knock. Bother, he thought. Who the hell could that be?

He got up and opened the door. In the corridor Alice was mutely waiting for him to tell her to come in.

"Oh yes," he said, "there you are. You'd better come in."

She went in. Her whole body felt stiff, a stiffness that had come over her immediately when she'd heard him come in that morning, and that had not left her during the day. All the muscles in her back were stiff; so were her limbs. She knew the feeling; during her mother's more unreasonable periods she'd felt the same, more or less - the difference was that she did not see any way out now. She stood stiffly, waiting for Dave to pronounce his verdict.

He stood looking at her. He saw a somewhat thin woman with frightened, tired eyes in a dress that must have known better days. He thought her dirty blonde hair had probably been dyed, and she could do with a haircut. She wore cheap make-up and a cheap perfume, rather like bad soap. Her cheeks were hollow. But he like the shape of her bones and he thought she would have nice eyes if she didn't look so tense. Good, he thought. I'll finish my letter tonight.

"My name is Dave Bernard," he said, and raised his eyebrows.

"I'm Alice Green," she said hesitantly.

"Sit down," he told her and directed her into one of the easy chairs near the window. She walked up to it, stiffly, with hunched shoulders and sat down while straightening her dress over her knees. She put her hands together in her lap, her right hand in her left. He could see that she worked the fingers of her left hand as if she were kneading, and got the impression that she could burst into tears at any moment.

"Look," he said, "I'm not going to hit you, you know. Did you have dinner before you came?"

She shook her head.

"Right," he said. He called room service and ordered two meals and a bottle of red wine. "We will have dinner first, and then you can try and explain."

She sat, head bowed, and looked at her shoes.

Dave followed her gaze. She wore carefully polished sensible shoes that had obviously seen better days, too; the heels were completely worn. He wondered how to begin; his thoughts were cut short when room service arrived with their meals. Dave signed the chit and poured them both a firm glass of wine.

"You do drink?" he asked.

She nodded again. "I used to, now and then," she said.

"Good," he said. "Let's eat, then. Have a nice meal."

"Thank you," she said.

They ate in silence. Dave kept looking at her; she looked at her plate, her thoughts and fears milling in her head. But the food was good, and gradually she allowed herself to enjoy it a little.

When they had finished eating Dave said, "Well then. You had better tell me all about yourself."

"All about myself?" she said hesitantly.

"Yes," he said, "I can't think of any other way to explain what you tried to do."

She sat staring ahead for some time.

"I er, I don't know where to begin - I've never said anything to anyone. My job -"

"Just tell me about yourself," Dave suggested. "Let's leave your job for the time being."

She pulled down the corners of her mouth. Then she fixed her eyes on the vase of flowers on the table and began.

"I am thirty-five years old," she said, "and I was born here. My father was a musician; he played the violin in an orchestra. He was very nice. He died when I was ten, a few days before Christmas, of food poisoning. My mother started to drink then, and later she tried cocaine; when I was seventeen she was taken into rehab, and she went in and out of rehab for years. But she ruined her body, and when I had almost finished my studies she became so bad that she needed to be looked after all the time. I took up a job to pay my way, and then my mother seemed to recover and she went away for some time. When I thought it was safe again to pick up my studies in the evenings she returned. She was very ill then. She died three months ago..."

"I'm sorry," Dave said. "Do you miss her?"

"No," Alice said. "No, I don't. She was never satisfied with anything I did and I had to spend everything I earned on her. She was always nagging; nothing was ever good enough, not after my father died. I think he kept her in check..." She sighed. "I tried to, but I couldn't. While I was at work here she'd go back to her drugs. I didn't know how she got them until I found she'd almost emptied my bank account." She shook her head. "No, I don't miss her," she said again. "I still miss my father, though."

"That, at last," he said, "is something about yourself. What about your spare time?"

She shook her head. "I haven't any," she said. "When I'm home I'm too tired. But I'm trying to find another job for the evenings."

"You don't like reading or music, or watching TV?"

"Yes, I do," she said. "But I haven't got the money - I haven't bought any books for the last six years or so. If I can't find another job -" she shook her head. "I don't know where to go."

He looked at her questioningly.

"I had to borrow for my mother's burial - I've paid off that debt. But now..." She turned her gaze back to the flowers again. "When I was eight and older, my father used to take me to concerts," she said, "of his own orchestra, and sometimes others. I loved it, and I used to buy CDs and I had found a reasonably good, affordable stereo set. My mother sold the lot one day for another fix." She put her head in her hands and looked into the distance unseeingly.

"Haven't you got anyone to turn to?" Dave asked.

"No," she said. "Mother was an only child and my father's relatives went to Australia. I had a friend but she moved, too, and since my mother moved in with me I haven't heard from her any more."

"Right," he said. "Couldn't you just borrow from a decent bank?"

"I tried," she said, "but they didn't want to help me, and all other moneylenders asked more rent than I could ever earn."

"Hmph," he said. "Do you live far from here?"

"Ten minutes by tube," she said.

"We will go," Dave said. "I'd like to take a look."

"To my place?" she said.

"Yes, of course."

"B-b-b-but..." she stammered.

"But?"

"I really couldn't take you there. It's all so shabby and -"

"I'd like to go, anyway. Come along!"

They put on their coats and left the hotel. Alice showed him the way to her apartment in the kind of very depressing, badly kept Victorian pile of bricks that's rented out in small apartments at an enormous profit.

She opened the door and stood aside to let Dave pass.

The place was meticulously clean. That, though, was all that was to be said for it. There was a mattress on the floor in the diminutive bedroom; there was a battered old stove in the kitchen with two pans sitting on top of it, and a bare wooden table with two kitchen chairs. The living-room, or what passed for it, was minute, but it housed lots of built-in cupboards and a bookcase with three thumbed novels. He looked at them. He didn't like them too much - they were the usual bestsellers. He turned, looked at Alice and raised his eyebrows. "I was given those by guests who had finished them," she said. "It seemed better than nothing."

"Where's your wardrobe?" Dave asked.

Alice turned beet red. She didn't say anything but pointed at a door in the corner. He opened it. There was hardly anything inside. Three tattered, washed-out dresses on hangers, a small piles of worn underthings, some socks...

"You put on your best dress to meet me..." Dave said. "My God!"

Alice slumped down on one of the kitchen chairs and cried silently, with her head on her arms. Dave could see her back heave with pent-up misery. He looked round for a glass and gave her some water, and he took a clean handkerchief from his pocket and put it in front of her.

"How long did you have to care for you mother?" he said.

"For almost eighteen years, on and off," she sniffed. "It cost me the world - but I couldn't send her away; she was my mother, after all..."

Some mother, Dave thought. He opened the cupboards in the kitchen in search for tea - but he didn't find any. There was hardly any food in the place.

"Where do you keep your victuals?" he asked.

"I usually eat something at the hotel," she said. "One of the girls in the kitchen helps me out a bit."

"And how badly in debt are you?" he said.

"The rent is three months in arrears; and..." She broke off and shook her head. "Are you going to report me to the management?"

Dave shook his head. "I don't think so," he said. "Look here, you said you could keep me company; well, at first I thought I didn't want any but on reconsideration I think I do. I will pay you fifty pounds an evening. But I can't have you dressed like this. You will have to buy some decent clothes. When do you stop tomorrow?"

"But I haven't got a penny to my name," she said.

"That's alright, I will take care of that. I want you to look nice."

She made a sound halfway grinning and sighing. "I'd really like to look nice," she said.

"And another thing," he said, "are you a real blonde?"

"No," she said. "How did you notice?"

"I just thought you might not. What is your real colour?"

"Dark chestnut," she said. "But my mother always told me men don't like that."

Dave looked at her and shook his head. "She was dead wrong," he said. "I would love you to dye your hair dark chestnut. It will save you a lot of money later on. So let's see - a new wardrobe, a dye and let them take out the dead ends, and we must do something about your furniture. You're too old to sleep on the floor. So when do you get of tomorrow?"

"At half past four," she said.

"Right," he said. "And a lunch break?"

"Yes," Alice said. "But just thirty minutes."

"Hmm. That's not enough. Please come to my room half past four then. OK?"

She nodded.

"Well," he said. "I'll be off. See you tomorrow. Four-thirty sharp."

He let himself out. Alice stood staring at his retreating back. She felt completely dazed. What on earth was she supposed to do while keeping this man company? Would he...? Fifty pounds a night was not to be sneezed at, and she had loved having a decent meal for once. She sat at the kitchen table again. Dave's handkerchief was still there. She looked at it, looked at the glass of water and started crying again. Eventually she felt she had no tears left. She got up, washed her face, brushed her teeth and turned in.

Dave got out of the tube and slowly walked back to the hotel. There was a pub on the way and he went in. He had a pint of bitter and revolved Alice and her problems in his mind. There was squalor for you; and he really believed her. He tried to envisage her in dark chestnut. It would match her eyes, he thought. And with some good, square meals she might start looking a little less like death warmed up - her eyes were nice. Hmph.

Finally he returned to his hotel room and the task of finishing his letter of condolences.

His schedule for the next day left him time enough to buy a couple of tickets for a chamber music concert he'd seen advertised on billboards, and he made reservations at a restaurant he'd visited with Gene sometimes. If she really liked classical music it might make a pleasant evening, he hoped. But first things first.

He was at his hotel room at a quarter past four, only a moment before he heard Alice knock. He opened the door for her and found to his relief that she looked a little less tense than the day before. She wore the same dress. Oh well, he thought, the others he had seen were even worse.

"Hello," she said timidly; but there was, very briefly, the hint of a smile.

"Hello," he said and reached for his coat. "We're off straight away."

They went to a few shops in ladies' wear. Alice turned out to have a good taste in clothes, Dave thought. At least he liked them on her. When they visited a shop in underwear he stayed behind a bit. Alice looked round to see where he'd gone. "But Dave," she said, "don't you want to choose?"

"I'm not sure," he said. "Just take what you like and what makes you feel good. OK?"

"Yes," she said. "Is there anything men don't like?"

"I don't know about men," he said, "but if you ask me, I don't really go for cotton underwear, and I think all these padded bras are awful."

She nodded. "I'll find myself something," she said.

They had finished at six, with a few boxes of shoes, sturdy, sensible ones for work and a few less sensible ones for other occasions, Dave said. Alice had objected that she didn't know when she would ever wear those but Dave overrode them. "Tonight, to begin with," he said.

"No time for part two," Dave said. "Tomorrow, same place same time. Now let's go to the hotel to change."

Back in his room Alice asked, "Where do I change, and what would you like me to wear?"

"I think you'd better use the bathroom," Dave said, "and I'd like you to choose."

Alice disappeared into the bathroom. After a little time she opened the door and stepped out into the main room in a new set of underwear. "Is this ok?" she said artlessly.

She wore a dark red set with embroidered, soft cups that really suited her. "Yes," he said. "Yes, you look good in it."

"Thank you," she said with a little smile. She disappeared into the bathroom again and came out in a red dress with a flaring skirt and a well-cut bodice.

"Wow, girl," Dave said. "Did you look at yourself in the mirror?"

She nodded. "Yes," she said. "It's nice, isn't it?"

"You'd better throw your old clothes," Dave said. "You can leave them here in the bag this dress came in. and you can leave that old coat here, too."

"You don't want me to return the new ones to you when you go back?"

"Of course not," Dave said. "Right. We're going out to dine."

They went down in the lift and Dave nodded to the doorman. Alice followed him a little bashfully. When they were out on the street Dave turned to her and said, "Come. Give me your arm."

Alice did, looking a little uncertain as to how to walk, but Dave immediately engaged her in conversation and she forgot her self-consciousness a bit. He told her a little about his job and his hobbies, and asked her a lot of questions about her likes and dislikes. She told him a lot about herself this time, her taste in books - yes, her mother had sold those, too - and music, about how she liked walking in the hills, and how she had not had the time to do so for ages, nor the money, for all that, and how she had had a boyfriend twice. "But they both shied away when I told them more about myself. One of them went immediately, the other tried to hang on for a little time. Oh well, I could hardly cope myself, so small wonder they upped and fled," she said.

Over dinner they kept on talking. Dave decided that that she did have really nice eyes.

"This is lovely," she said at one time. "You know, I've never had dinner at a restaurant before."

"High time you did, then," he said, smiling a little. "You'll get accustomed to doing so soon enough."

Alice doubted it; but she didn't say so. Instead, she looked around her to take it all in, the well-laid table, the candles, the soft lights; she almost saw herself sitting there. No, she thought, she would have to finish her education first, and then... her face fell, and she shook her head.

"A penny for your thoughts," Dave said. "What are you worrying about?"

"Oh," she said, "I was just thinking that I should have to finish my education, and then be lucky enough to find a job, and then work for a long time before I could ever afford to eat here myself. But I don't think I'll find the energy and time for that." She smiled a little crookedly at him.