Someone Like You

‘No, Mr Snape. I’m tired tonight. Arthur’s tired, too. I can see it. Let’s all go to bed.’

She herded us out of the room and we went upstairs, the four of us together. On the way up, there was the usual talk about breakfast and what they wanted and how they were to call the maid. ‘I think you’ll like your room,’ my wife said. ‘It has a view right across the valley, and the sun comes to you in the morning around ten o’clock.’

We were in the passage now, standing outside our own bedroom door, and I could see the wire I had put down that afternoon and how it ran along the top of the skirting down to their room. Although it was nearly the same colour as the paint, it looked very conspicuous to me. ‘Sleep well,’ my wife said. ‘Sleep well, Mrs Snape. Good night, Mr Snape.’ I followed her into our room and shut the door.

‘Quick!’ she cried. ‘Turn it on!’ My wife was always like that, frightened that she was going to miss something. She had a reputation, when she went hunting – I never go myself – of always being right up with the hounds whatever the cost to herself or her horse for fear that she might miss a kill. I could see she had no intention of missing this one.

The little radio warmed up just in time to catch the noise of their door opening and closing again.

‘There!’ my wife said. ‘They’ve gone in.’ She was standing in the centre of the room in her blue dress, her hands clasped before her, her head craned forward, intently listening, and the whole of the big white face seemed somehow to have gathered itself together, tight like a wineskin.

Almost at once the voice of Henry Snape came out of the radio, strong and clear. ‘You’re just a goddam little fool,’ he was saying, and this voice was so different from the one I remembered, so harsh and unpleasant, it made me jump. ‘The whole bloody evening wasted! Eight hundred points – that’s eight pounds between us!’

‘I got mixed up,’ the girl answered. ‘I won’t do it again, I promise.’

‘What’s this?’ my wife said. ‘What’s going on?’ Her mouth was wide open now, the eyebrows stretched up high, and she came quickly over to the radio and leaned forward, ear to the speaker. I must say I felt rather excited myself.

‘I promise, I promise I won’t do it again,’ the girl was saying.

‘We’re not taking any chances,’ the man answered grimly. ‘We’re going to have another practice right now.’

‘Oh no, please! I couldn’t stand it!’

‘Look,’ the man said, ‘all the way out here to take money off this rich bitch and you have to go and mess it up.’

My wife’s turn to jump.

‘The second time this week,’ he went on.

‘I promise I won’t do it again.’

‘Sit down. I’ll sing them out and you answer.’

‘No, Henry, please! Not all five hundred of them. It’ll take three hours.’

‘All right, then. We’ll leave out the finger positions. I think you’re sure of those. We’ll just do the basic bids showing honour tricks.’

‘Oh, Henry, must we? I’m so tired.’

‘It’s absolutely essential you get them perfect,’ he said. ‘We have a game every day next week, you know that. And we’ve got to eat.’

‘What is this?’ my wife whispered. ‘What on earth is it?’

‘Shhh!’ I said. ‘Listen!’

‘All right,’ the man’s voice was saying. ‘Now we’ll start from the beginning. Ready?’

‘Oh Henry, please!’ She sounded very near to tears.

‘Come on, Sally. Pull yourself together.’

Then, in a quite different voice, the one we had been used to hearing in the living-room, Henry Snape said, ‘One club.’ I noticed that there was a curious lilting emphasis on the word ‘one’, the first part of the word drawn out long.

‘Ace queen of clubs,’ the girl replied wearily. ‘King jack of spades. No hearts, and ace jack of diamonds.’

‘And how many cards to each suit? Watch my finger positions carefully.’

‘You said we could miss those.’