Whiff Of Money

'But tell me about yourself,' she gushed. T want to know all about you... everything. How do you manage to live so well and not work?'

The truite soufflee and the steak au poivre arrived at this moment and Girland paused to discuss with Garin what Burgundy he should have with his steak. Having decided on a Nuits-StGeorges 1949 which knew would cost him enormously, but felt he deserved as a compensation for having being landed with this yakking girl, he turned his attention once more to her - this blonde beauty who was now overwhelming him with her gushing interest in his way of life.

'I wouldn't say I live well,' Girland said. T get along. I've lived in Paris now for fifteen years. There are plenty of ways of making money here and there if you know the right people and know what to do.'

Vi pushed her trout about on her plate with her fork. She couldn't bring herself to eat it. The pills were now making her feel bad.

'That sounds marvellous.' She patted his hand and smiled at him. 'For instance, tell me, what are you doing tomorrow?'

Completely bored with her now, Girland glanced at his watch.

'This time tomorrow I will be in Garmisch,' he said. 'I have a little deal on there.'

'Garmisch? How wonderful! What kind of deal?'

Girland regarded her thoughtfully, then grinned.

'Oh, a deal. What are you doing tomorrow?'

'I'm modelling for Benny.'

Garmisch! Vi was thinking, aware that she was now feeling sick. She swallowed the rising saliva back. Garmisch! This was what Paul wanted to know! Well, at least, she had learned something. She could see Girland was disappointed in her, and she couldn't blame him. Paul had said he was an agent. She was scared to ask further questions. She could make him suspicious.

All the fun and joy had gone out of her life now. She remembered Paul's threat: You now have a hook in your mouth . . . and it won't come out. The terror that was gnawing at her had ruined her evening. She had been crazy to have taken so many of those damned pills. Now the sight of the truite soufflee suddenly turned her stomach.

She felt if she didn't get out at once, she would disgrace herself. She turned desperately to Girland, her face pallid, little beads of sweat on her upper lip.

'I'm terribly sorry ... I'm not well... I -1 have this awful liver thing ... it hits me ...' She got hastily to her feet. T - forgive me .. . I'm so sorry ...'

Seeing her obvious distress, Girland moved quickly, taking her arm and leading her to the lobby. Garin came to his side.

'A taxi,' Girland said. 'Mademoiselle is not well.'

There was a taxi waiting by the time Vi had put on her coat.

'I want to go home alone,' she said to Girland. She couldn't another second of his company so great was her terror.

'Thank you . . . I'm sorry...'.

'But of course I'll take you home,' Girland said quietly.

Vi cried hysterically, T want to go alone! Leave me alone!' Pushing past Girland, she ran out, got into the taxi and was driven away.

Girland stared after the taxi, then shrugged.

You can't win all the time, he told himself as he walked back to his table, feeling depressed. His evening had collapsed under him.

The steak au poivre had been removed and was being kept hot. The wine waiter served the Burgundy. Girland received his steak, but he now found he had lost his appetite. A gruesome evening, he thought, but cheered up slightly after drinking a glass of the magnificent wine.

Later, he left the restaurant and got into his little Fiat. He sat for a long moment wondering what to do. The time now was 21.50 hrs. He wondered if he should go to the Poker Club where the game would be in full swing, but decided against it. He wasn't in the mood, and besides, he reminded himself he would have to be up horribly early to catch the 07.50 flight to Munich. Feeling deflated, he decided to return to his apartment.

One of these days, he said to himself as he drove with the slow moving traffic, you' 11 have to find yourself a permanent woman. You're getting bored with looking after yourself... chasing rainbows.

He became even more gloomy with this thought until suddenly he caught sight of a blonde girl running along the sidewalk. She wore a red mini skirt and a tight-fitting white sweater. She ran easily well, and her long legs were slim and beautiful: her full breasts bounced joyfully as she ran.

Girland brightened immediately. So long as there were girls around like this one, he told himself, there must still be fun and hope left in this drab, drab world.

In a much better frame of mind, he continued on towards his apartment.

* * *

Vi lay on the bed. She was feeling better. She had only just managed to reach the toilet on the eighth floor before she had thrown up. She was now feeling relaxed, a little cold and still frightened, but better. She began to think of that delicious-looking trout left on the plate at Chez Garin and became aware she was hungry.

The door jerked open and Labrey came in. He stood in the doorway glaring at her.