Tenth Commandment

8

There was a party at the house in Chelsea. The last had been such a success they all wanted another.

It was a marvellous party. All the tenants were there, of course, and a boisterous bunch from the music world, Madame Zora Kadinsky's friends. Captain Bramwell Shank had invited a few cronies from his seafaring days aboard the Staten Island ferry. They were cantankerous old coots who spent most of their time at the two card tables set with food and drink.

The party was well begun, noisy with talk and laughter, when I arrived. At the last minute I had run out and bought a two-pound box of chocolate-covered cherries at the local drugstore. I presented it to Mrs Hufnagel and got a warm kiss on my cheek in return. Madame Kadinsky insisted on introducing me to all her friends. I didn't remember any of their names, which seemed to be composed solely of consonants.

As we moved about the apartment, my eyes were searching for Cleo. After the introductions were finished, I 440

finally saw her in the kitchen, talking to Adolph Finkel. Or rather, he was talking and she was listening, a bemused expression on her face. They both held paper cups of wine.

I observed her a few moments before I approached. She looked so clean to me. Physically clean, of course, but more than that. There was an innocent purity about her.

She seemed untouched by violence, or even by evil. I could not conceive of her acting through malice or hate, greed or envy.

She was wearing a loose chemise of challis wool in a sort of forested print. She was without makeup; her face was clear and serene. How could I ever have thought her plain?

She was beautiful! That high, noble brow; the lovely hazel eyes; a dream of a nose; lips delicately sculpted. Her teeth were not large and prominent at all; they were jewels, sparkling. The chestnut hair fell free, gleaming. And when I remembered that elegantly slender body, now hidden within the billowing chemise, I felt a surge of blood to my face, my breath caught, and my knees turned to water.

I waited a moment longer, until my respiration had returned to normal, then I went towards the kitchen. Cleo looked up, saw me approaching. Her eyes widened, her face became animated, she glowed.

'Josh!' she cried happily. 'Where have you been? '

'Out of town,' I said. 'How are you, Cleo? Finkel, good to see you again.'

'Bigg,' he said.

Cleo, speaking in her soft, shy whisper, began telling me how concerned she had been — all the tenants had been concerned — because no one had seen me or heard me moving about since Thursday morning, and they feared I had met with some misadventure.

I assured her I was in good health, all was well, and I had a great deal to tell her about matters we had previously discussed.

Adolph Finkel had listened to this intimate dialogue with some discomfiture, his pallid features becoming more and more woebegone. I thought tears might flow from those weak eyes. He looked mousier than ever, the dull hair a tangle, a doomed smile revealing the discoloured tombstone teeth.

'Well, Bigg,' he broke in suddenly, 'I guess the best man won.'

He drained off his paper cup of wine, gave us a look of such martyrdom that I wanted to kick his shins, and shambled away, shoulders slumping. We looked after him with astonishment. I turned back to Cleo.

'The best man?' I said, remembering Hamish Hooter and Yetta Apatoff.

Then Cleo and I were giggling, leaning towards each other, our heads touching.

'Listen,' I said, 'can we leave as soon as possible?

There's so much I want to tell you.'

She looked at me steadily.

'Where do you want to go?' she asked.

'Woody's. It's open on Sundays. Good food. I know the woman who runs the place. We can have dinner and drinks in real glasses.'

'You're sure you want to go out with me?' she said, still looking into my eyes. She knew I had been afraid of being seen with her. Mutt and Jeff.

'Positive,' I said stoutly.

'I'd love to go to Woody's with you,' she said smiling.

I eased out the door, took my hat and coat, and waited for Cleo in the entrance hall. She came flying down a few moments later in a coat and tam and we set out.

It was a hard, brilliant day, flooded with sunshine. But the wind was gusting strongly, whipping our coats, tingling our cheeks. Cleo took my arm, and I looked nervously at passersby, watching for signs of amusement when they saw this tall, willowy woman with her runty escort.

But no one gave us a glance, and after a while I stopped 442

caring what people might think.

'I brought the kite home,' I told Cleo. 'And the string and winder.'

'Too windy today,' she said. 'But we'll fly it another day.'

'Sure we will,' I said.

We hung coats and hats on the rack just inside the door of Woody's. We waited a moment, and then Nitchy came towards us from the back dining room.

'Cleo,' I said, 'I'd like you to meet Nitchy, a good friend. Nitchy, meet Cleo.'

The two women shook hands. Nitchy looked up searchingly at Cleo's face. Then she turned to me, smiling.

She put a soft hand on my arm.

'At last!' she said.