Gypsy - Lesley Pearse [84]
‘Has Beth been home?’ Sam asked.
She shook her head and added something in Italian. Sam felt she was trying to ask why he looked so worried. But he couldn’t spare the time to try to find words she would understand, and went into their room. Beth’s fiddle case was on the floor by the window, just where it had been when he left the room at midday to start work. He looked at the dresses she wore when she was playing and all three of them were still hanging on the wall.
He realized it was possible Theo had come back, met her at the shop and whisked her off somewhere. Under normal circumstances Beth wouldn’t go anywhere if she was expected at the saloon, but as Sam knew, the heart took over from the head when romance was in the air, and she had been moping over Theo for weeks.
Yet even if she had done that, Sam knew she would’ve come back here first and left a note for him, if only to ask him to tell Heaney she was ill.
Amy and Kate were out and the Irish family they shared with hadn’t seen Beth either.
Sam ran back to Heaney’s. He was really scared now. Beth’s safety was uppermost in his mind, but he didn’t relish having to tell Heaney that he’d heard a rumour about Fingers and not divulged it.
In the room at the back of the saloon, Sam told Heaney he was afraid Fingers might have kidnapped Beth, and why, and predictably the man blew his top.
‘You heard that Fingers was about to declare war on me and you didn’t tell me?’ he roared.
Sam apologized and explained that he hadn’t believed it. ‘I was told I should watch out for Beth, that’s why I’m scared they’ve done that.’
He fully expected Heaney to scoff at this. But he didn’t; instead he scratched his head and looked worried.
‘Would they have taken her?’ Sam asked.
‘How would I know?’ Heaney snarled. ‘But one thing’s certain, we’ll soon know if the mother-fucker’s got her because he’ll make some demand.’
He had no sympathy for Sam. It was clear from his agitation that his main concern was not Beth’s safety but his own loss of face.
‘Get back behind the bar and keep this to yourself,’ he ordered him.
Sam felt like punching the man for being so callous. He wanted him to get up on the stage, announce Beth was missing and ask if anyone knew anything. But reason prevailed, for although he knew the vast majority of men in the bar would be only too eager to help find her, New York was a big place. She could be held anywhere, and scores of men running around blindly with their blood up wouldn’t achieve anything but further trouble.
It was the longest night Sam had ever known. He had to listen to Heaney’s announcement that Beth couldn’t make it to play that night, see the disappointment on the men’s faces, and deal with many of them asking him if she was sick.
Heaney sent him home at midnight. ‘They won’t make a move until tomorrow,’ he said, with a clap on Sam’s shoulder which was as close as he could get to displaying a semblance of sympathy. ‘I’ve been through this kinda thing before, lad. They’ll make us sweat before they show their hand.’
It did make Sam sweat. Lying on his bed, looking at Beth’s empty one, he cursed himself for dismissing what Jack had said. It was pure arrogance on his part; he just didn’t want to acknowledge that a man he considered inferior might actually know more than he did. He’d never approved of Jack’s friendship with Beth, yet he’d pretended he did because it let him off taking care of her, so he could spend more time with his women.
Until tonight, Sam had prided himself on his many conquests. It made him feel powerful that he could sweet-talk any girl into bed. Yet now, as he thought about Polly, Maggie, Nora and, more recently, Annie, he felt ashamed of himself. They were all either actresses or dancers, girls who had already been ruined by someone else, soft targets as they were vulnerable and desperate for love. In truth he knew that each one of them would probably become a whore before long. He didn’t know now how he could have been so hypocritical about Jack, for even if he was a bit rough and ready, he had always treated