The Angel in the Corner - Monica Dickens [59]
Several men said things to her, or whistled. A woman with hair like a wet black retriever made some joke which Virginia could not hear, but those who could hear it laughed and stared at Virginia as she passed, then lost interest and turned again to hurl their comments at the struggling monsters in the ring.
One of the wrestlers was howling like a dog. Virginia stopped to look between two men. She thought he was being killed. Someone pushed her, and she staggered against a burly man in a tight, shiny blue suit. She clutched at him to avoid falling, and gasped as the wrestler howled again.
The man pushed her upright. ‘Don’t worry about George,’ he said. ‘He always does that. It’s part of his act. Hullo,’ he looked at her more closely. ‘Where did you come from? You shouldn’t be here on your own.’ He frowned, bringing his hairline almost down to his eyebrows. His face was squashed together, as if there were a heavy weight on the top of his head.
‘I’m not on my own,’ Virginia said, clutching the fur cape across her chest. ‘I’m with someone, only I’ve lost him for a moment. Do you know him? Joe Colonna.’
‘Old Joe? Sure,’ said the man. ‘Got away from you, has he? He got bored with the fights and went in the office to have a drink with the governor. You won’t find him out here.’ He looked away from Virginia for a moment to shout: ‘Kill him!’ at the ring, and then turned back and said: ‘Want me to take you in there? Midge don’t like strangers barging in.’
Virginia followed him as he pushed back through the crowd and sidled round the wall to a door in the far corner. He beat on it with his fist.
‘Who is it?’ The voice from inside was as high-pitched as a child’s.
‘It’s Terry. Got a friend of Joe’s here. Wants to see him.’
‘O.K.’
Terry opened the door and pushed Virginia inside. The door shut behind her, cutting down the clamour of the crowd to a dull roar. Joe was sitting at the table in a yellow sweater, his black hair shining under the naked light which hung from the ceiling. He did not look pleased to see Virginia.
‘Jin,’ he said, without getting up. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’
‘I had to see you. I’m sorry.’ She felt foolish, standing by the door of the drab little room, with its bare floor and its stained walls hung with pictures of horrible, half-naked wrestlers. Midge was an elephant of a man, in a grey suit like an elephant’s baggy skin. He and Joe were staring at her, and she was conscious that her cape had fallen away from the front of her low-cut dress, but it would look more foolish to pull it together again.
‘Who is this, Joe?’ Midge asked, in his high, unresonant voice. His great flabby head hung slightly forward, as if it were too heavy even for his thick neck. His thighs, crossed one over the other, strained at his trousers. His hand on the table was like a bundle of fat red sausages. There was a bottle and glasses among the litter on the table, and an ash-tray like a dog’s dinner bowl, with the last cigarette end still smoking among the other twisted stubs.
‘This is Miss Martin,’ Joe said brusquely, as if her identity were not important. ‘You shouldn’t have come down here, Jin. How on earth did you get through the crowd in that – that nightgown?’
‘It’s not a nightgown. It’s my best dress.’ Virginia came forward to the table, wishing that one of them would get up and give her a chair. She felt limp and breathless after what she had been through to find Joe. ‘I was at a party with Helen, but something happened, and I left. Silly, I suppose, but I felt I had to tell you.’
‘What’s happened?’ Joe asked irritably. ‘Tell me what you want, and then you’ll have to go. Midge and I are busy.’ He picked up his glass.
‘I can’t tell you, when –’ Virginia looked uncertainly at Midge.
‘You mean you want me to get out?’ he asked tractably. ‘Turned out of my own office, eh?’ He cackled softly, and began the ponderous manoeuvre of getting to his feet. ‘Never let it be said that I wouldn’t oblige a lady. I’ll give you a few minutes, Joe,