Mildred Pierce - James M. Cain [83]
Veda went on at some length, snapping her cigarette and when it went out lighting another one and throwing the match on the floor. But for some time Mildred found her taunts nothing but a jumble. She was so stunned at the discovery that this man, whom she had put up with because he brought Veda closer to her, had all the time been sneering at her behind her back, making fun of her most intimate relations with him, setting the child against her, that every part of her seemed to have turned to jelly. Presently, however, words began to have meaning again, and she heard Veda saying: "After all, Mother, even in his darkest days, Monty's shoes are custom made."
"They ought to be. They cost me enough."
Mildred snapped this out bitterly, and for a second wished she hadn't. But the cigarette, suddenly still in mid-air, told her it was news to Veda, quite horrible news, and without further regret, she rammed home her advantage: "You didn't know that, did you?"
Veda stared incredulously, then decided to play it funny. "You buy his shoes? Yee gods and little—"
"His shoes and his shirts and his drinks and everything else he's had in the last few months, including his polo dues. And you needn't call on your gods and little fishes any more, or mention any more dates from the operas. If you want to see some dates I have them all written down, with an exact amount beside each one. Miss Pierce, you made a slight mistake. It's not my legs that he likes me for, it's my money. And so long as it's that, we'll see who's the varlet and who's the boss. It may interest you to know that that's why he's such a very good friend of yours. He doesn't haul you over to your music lesson because he wants to. In fact, he often complains about it. He does it because he has to. And surprising though it be to you, he'll marry me, or not marry me, or do anything I say, so his proud, gentlemanly belly can have something to eat." -
Mildred got up, something haughty in her manner for a moment suggesting Veda. "So you see, what he sees in me is about what you see, isn't it? And unfortunately, you're in exactly the position he's in, too. You have to do what I say. The hand that holds the money cracks the whip. And I say there'll be no more money for you, not one cent, until you take back everything you've said, and apologize for it."
Veda's answer was to abandon the grand manner, and become a yelling, devilish adolescent of fourteen. Coldly, Mildred listened to her curses, watched her kick at the Pierce upright with Bert's riding boots. "And that's the piano you're going to practice on, until I get ready, in my own good time, to buy you another."
Veda screamed at the top of her lungs, then leaped at the piano and began playing the Can-Can from Orpheus. Mildred didn't know what it was, but she knew it was wild, obscene music. Picking up her coat, she stalked out of the house and headed up the street toward the restaurant.
So far as Monty was concerned, Mildred knew this was the end, but she didn't do anything about it at once. She received him as usual when he dropped in at the restaurant that night, and the next two or three nights. She even submitted to his embraces, deriving a curious satisfaction from the knowledge that his access to the very best legs was rapidly drawing to a close. Stoppage of the spending money brought Veda to her milk, as no beating had ever done, and when it did, Mildred forgave her quite honestly, in a teary little scene two or three days after Christmas. It was almost automatic with her by now to acquit Veda of wrongdoing, no matter how flagrant the offense. In her mind, the blame was