The Angel in the Corner - Monica Dickens [67]
‘Only by your standard.’ He resented her tone of light rebuke. ‘Why shouldn’t the editor take you on again, if you were getting on as well as you said you were? Listen, you don’t mind do you?’ He wanted to make it impossible for her to mind. ‘You always said you loved working there. If I stopped you doing it, you’d say I was ruining your career. What’s wrong in giving you the chance to go ahead with it?’
‘You don’t see, do you?’ Virginia picked up the suitcase that held the tinned food and the whisky and went into the kitchen. Joe followed her. They were close together in the tiny kitchen, which was scarcely more than a large cupboard.
‘Why are you being so difficult about this?’ he asked. ‘I thought you would jump at the chance.’
‘I’m not being difficult.’ She shook back her hair, and tried to smile. ‘I’d be glad to go back to the magazine. I hated leaving, but I thought I had to, if we were going to Glasgow. It’s just that – don’t you see, Joe? I would have liked to be the one to suggest it.’
She bent down to open the case. He took her arm and pulled her up again. ‘Well, you weren’t,’ he said roughly. ‘And if you’re trying to take me over, you can stop it right away. You’ll do what I tell you. We’re married now, don’t forget that.’ He felt her arm quivering under his grasp. Was it excitement or fear? Did she like this kind of treatment, or did she hate him for it? He had been too rough, but she had it coming to her. If she was going to start taking offence at everything he said, she had got to be straightened out right away.
‘Let go of me,’ she said quietly, and he loosened his grasp.
‘I didn’t mean to be like that. I’m sorry, Jin,’ he said with difficulty. He hated apologies. He had never cared what people thought of him, but he cared what Virginia thought. It was a new sensation; painful, and a little humiliating.
‘I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean anything.’ She knelt down and began to take tins out of the suitcase and stack them on the floor. ‘Of course I’ll be glad to go back to the magazine. It will give me something to do, while you –’ She sat back on her heels, and asked without looking at him: ‘Are you going to get a job too?’
‘I may. I’ll have to look around. I thought I might start on that book I’ve been wanting to write.’ He had not thought of that for some time. Now it seemed like a fine idea. He felt sure that he could bring it off.
‘There’s money in it, Jin, I’m certain of that. I’ve got some first-class dope. Never been written before, as far as I know. I’ll be famous. I’ll make you rich. Listen to me! Listen –’ He knelt on the floor beside her, scattering the tins. ‘Don’t turn away like that. What’s the matter with you? You think I’m too dumb to write a book, is that it?’ This time she gasped as he took her arm, and he knew that he had hurt her.
He pulled her against him, and forced her head back. Her mouth was closed and rigid. He forced it open, and felt her shudder as she relaxed against him.
‘Yoo-hoo! Anybody home?’ There was a clatter of heels on the stairway from the house above, and Mrs Mortimer appeared in the doorway before they had time to get to their feet. ‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘Do I intrude? Don’t mind me, Jo-Jo. I know what young love is. I just came down to pay my respects to the bride.’
She was a shrill, sparse woman like a quail plucked for the oven, with the fixed eye of a bore, and a thin red nose that had rejected the pale powder which clung patchily to the rest of her face. As Virginia and Joe scrambled to their feet among the rolling tins of soup, she came into the kitchen, holding out two hands, ugly with bitten hang nails.
She embraced Virginia. ‘Welcome to the ancestral home. I hope you’ll like it here. Jo-Jo always grumbled about it, but in my opinion, he’s lucky to get a place as nice as this. He’s not the best of tenants, but I dare say you’ll straighten him