Chapter XI

Paul's next step was to look for a room. He found one on the fifth floor of a large house in Poole Street. The landlady asked him to pay at once, and Paul had to give her the remaining part of the money he had brought from Belfast. So another problem for him now was to look for a job. He spent the next two days looking for work without any results. On the morning of the third day, as he walked along the busy Ware Street he saw the following words written on the window of a large shop known as The Bonanza Bazaar:

PIANIST WANTED

Paul entered the shop. The shop-owner, Mr. Harris, a man of about thirty with a business-like manner, looked the young man up and down and led the way to a part of the shop where sheet music was sold. He took one of the sheets, put it on the piano that stood nearby and said:

"Play!"

Paul sat down and started playing. He could play well, and this piece was simple enough. He finished it, then picked up a few other sheets and played them over too. Before he had finished, the girls at the nearest counters were listening and Mr. Harris looked pleased.

"You'll do," he said at last. "I take you on. Three pounds a week and a lunch. Keep on playing all the time. Make the customers buy."

Paul kept on playing all day. It was no easy job. As time went on he felt very tired. When the shop filled up, the crowd pressed him on all sides. Towards one o'clock Harris left the shop for lunch and after a few minutes the girl from the café across the street brought over coffee and sandwiches to Paul. Glad of a rest he got up and, with a smile, asked her name. She told him, Lena Andersen. But she would not continue the conversation and moved off immediately to another part of the shop. Paul watched the girl. She was about twenty, tall, with blond hair and long legs and arms. Her face was pleasant but for a white scar that ran down her cheek. And then she looked very sad.

The afternoon wore on. Paul went on playing, but his thoughts were only about his father. He was trying hard to think of a plan what to do next. He was glad when six o'clock came and he was, at last, free.

On the following evening, after work, Paul met Mark outside the Bonanza. Boulia seemed pleased to see him. When they had shaken hands, he said, "We're making a start tonight?"

"Yes," said Paul. "Tonight is Burt's evening off."

They walked through the park and found themselves in the old part of the city — in one of the back streets with a number of small shops, and one public house: The Royal Oak.

"Here we are," Paul said. "I needn't warn you to be careful. If you don't know what to say, just say nothing."

They entered the public house and took their seats at one of the tables and waited.

"She is not here yet," Paul said, looking round the room. He had no sooner spoken than the door opened and a woman entered and walked at once to a corner table. Paul guessed, with a beating heart, that it was Louisa Burt. She seemed about thirty and beginning to grow stout. She wore a cheap costume, with yellow gloves and a red handbag. She did look a servant on her evening out.

She took a seat, ordered a drink and looked around. Paul, meeting her eyes, smiled. She turned away but two minutes later again looked towards them. This time Paul rose and crossed over to her table.

"Good evening," he said.

"Are you addressing me?" she asked.

"Yes. If you're alone perhaps we might join you."

"I'm not alone. I'm waiting for a friend."

"Oh!"

"Of course he may be late tonight — working at his office. He's a very important man."

"Oh, then he may come very late. And now we shall keep you company. Have a drink?"

"No, I don't drink. Still, if you ask me."

Paul signalled to Mark, who came over carrying Paul's glass and his own.

"May I introduce my friend?"

"Pleased to meet you. My name is Miss Burt."

Paul ordered more drinks and they raised their glasses.

"You know," Mark said, "there is nothing better than company. Among friends, you understand. It makes you feel good."

"I have to be back at nine tonight. I cannot walk out anywhere. Not tonight."

"Ah, well," Paul said easily. "We'll have a chance next time."

Paul cleverly kept the conversation going. After a few more drinks Burt began to talk more freely.

"It's nice to meet gentlemen like you. If you only knew what people I've met and what I've gone through. My father was in the army, an officer. He used to beat my mother, especially when he came home drunk. I wanted to run away. I've always dreamed of the stage. But I never had a chance."

"Why?" Mark asked in a friendly tone.

"Something happened. I tell you, I only told the truth, the whole truth. And what did I get for it? A few pounds which I spent in six months."

"That's always the way," Paul agreed, "you do good and get no thanks for it."

"I didn't want any thanks!" she cried out. "I only wanted to be a lady... to have my place."

Paul was clever enough to be silent, but Mark asked with interest:

"Why don't you tell us about it? Perhaps we could help you.”

Burt quickly looked at Boulia and seemed suddenly to remember where she was. She finished her drink and got to her feet.

"Do you see the time? I've got to go now."

Paul helped her gather up her things, paid for the drinks and they all walked to the door. When they were in the street he said:

"What a beautiful night. Perhaps we could see you home?"

"Well... only to the gate," she agreed.

As they walked Paul again kept the conversation going. Soon they came to a large house in Porlock Hill, surrounded by a garden.

"Well," she said, "here we are."

"What a beautiful house," Paul said.

"Yes?" Burt looked pleased. "I'm with the Oswalds... one of the best families here."

"Well," Paul said, "may we see you next Wednesday?"

Burt thought, but only for a moment.

"All right," she said. "Same time, at the Oak."

As the two young men walked away from the large house, Mark said:

"I'm sorry, Mathry. She was just beginning to talk... when I spoilt everything with my idiotic words."

Paul felt very angry, but he decided not to show it.