Lucky Jim

Just then she reappeared, walking up to them with a kind of deliberate carelessness that made Dixon suspect her of having a bottle of something, now no doubt much depleted, hidden in the ladies' cloakroom.

The expression on her face boded ill for somebody, or perhaps everybody.

When she reached the group, Dixon saw Gore-Urquhart look up at her and try to flash some facial signal;' You see how I'm placed' was possibly its nearest equivalent. Then, alone among the men present, he stood up.

Carol turned to Dixon. 'Come on, Jim,' she said rather loudly, 'I want you to dance with me. I take it that nobody here will object.'

'WHAT'S going on, Carol?'

'That's what I'd like to know.'

'How do you mean?'

' You know how I mean, Jim, unless you go about with your eyes shut. And you don't do that, do you? No, I'm sick and tired of being pushed around. I don't mind telling you this, because I know you. I do know you, don't I? In fact, I've got to tell someone, so I pick you. You don't mind?'

It was having to dance again, and so soon, that Dixon minded, not hearing what Carol wanted to say, which promised to be at least interesting. 'You go ahead,' he said encouragingly, looking round to see who was dancing near them. The floor seemed fuller than ever of jigging, lurching couples, who every few seconds lurched all one way together, bearing one another along like a crowd that knows a baton-charge is imminent. The noise was enormous; every time it rose to a maximum Dixon felt sweat start out on his chest as if it were being physically squeezed out of him. Above eye-level, the painted Pharaohs and Caesars seemed themselves to be twisting and toppling.

'He thinks he's only got to crook his bloody finger and I'll come running,' Carol announced in a shout. 'Well, he's mistaken.'

It was on the tip of Dixon's tongue to tell Carol not to think she was fooling anyone by talking and behaving so much more drunkenly than she was in fact feeling, but he didn't, guessing that she needed some sort of mask and knowing by experience that this was a much more efficient one than drunkenness itself. He only said: 'Bertrand?'

' That's the fellow; the painter, you know. The great painter. Of course, he knows he isn't great really, and that's what makes him behave like this. Great artists always have a lot of women, so if he can have a lot of women that makes him a great artist, never mind what his pictures are like. You're familiar with the argument. And with the fallacy too, no doubt. Undistributed how-d'you-call. Well, you can guess who the women are in this case. Me and the girl you've got your eye on.'

Dixon started insincerely; the charge was quite unfounded, but at the same time it managed in some unscrupulous way to be well-founded too.'

What the hell are you talking about?'

'Don't waste time like this, Jim. What are you going to do about it, anyway?'

'About what?

She dug her nails into the back of his hand. ' Stop doing that. What are you doing about Christine Callaghan?'

'Nothing, of course. What can I do?'

'If you don't know what to do I can't show you, as the actress said to the bishop. Worried about what dear Margaret would do?'

' Look, do cut it out, Carol. You're supposed to be telling me something, not cross-questioning me.'

'I thought so. And don't worry; it's all connected, all connected. No, you let dear Margaret stew in her own juice. I've met people like that before, old boy, and believe me, it's the only way, only thing to do.

Throw her a lifebelt and she'll pull you under. Take it from me.' She nodded, her eyes half-dosed.

'What do you want to tell me, Carol? if anything.'

'Oh, I've got plenty to tell, plenty. You knew he was bringing me to this hop originally?'

'Yes, I had gathered that.'

'Dear Margaret again, no doubt. Well, then he ditches me so that he can bring his new piece and her uncle, and pairs me off with the uncle. Not that I minded that after a bit, because I think old Julius and I have got a lot in common. We started to, anyway, until dear Margaret decided she could make sweeter music with old Julius than I could. I'm using her vocabulary, you understand; not mine.'

' Yes, I understand very well, thanks.'

At this point they both heeled over sharply in the crowd, but he heard her say:' None of your Galsworthy dialogue here, please, Jim. Can't we go and sit down for a bit? This is a bit too much like a C. and A. sale for me.'

'All right.'

They made their way effortfully towards the Carthaginians, under whom they found two vacant chairs against the walL As soon as they were seated, Carol leaned vivaciously over to Dixon, so that their knees were touching. Her face was in shadow, and seen so it had a romantic bloom.

'I suppose you've guessed I've been sleeping with our friend the painter, haven't you?'

'No, I hadn't.' He began to feel frightened.

'That's good; I shouldn't like it to be generally known.'

'I won't tell anybody.'

'That's the spirit. Especially not dear Margaret, eh?'

'Of course not.'

'Good. Rather a surprise, isn't it?'

'Yes, it is.'