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It happens to every girl a delirious whirl
then an awfully hard drop to earth |
A man like Michael was much too attractive to be safe. On the other hand, he was much to attractive to be left alone!
The Sunday Mouse by Muriel Roy Bolton
Illustrated by Coleman
ALL the rest of the week he was a man, but on Sunday he was a mouse. He knew it, too, which made this humble, scurrying condition even more painful. Michael Eliot looked with sleepy contempt at his reflection in the mirror.
"Seven o'clock on a Sunday morning," he said bitterly, " and you're up on your big feet shaving your big, stupid face!”
Wistfully, he thought back to the days before Diana Rivers had moved into the fiat across the hall-when he'd come home late from a Saturday date with ,Helen or Elaine, or what was her name? Anyway he'd fall into bed, happily knowing he didn't have to open his eyes again until mid-day.
"To think I'd live to see the day he muttered, and came very close to slitting his throat as he turned to look across the living-room towards the partly open front door and across the hall towards Diana Rivers's door.
No, nothing happening yet, but at any moment she might come out, dark sleek hair gleaming around her very beautiful face, her legs slim and long in riding breeches.
Hastily, Michael wiped his face, grabbed his shirt and wondered which she'd do today trot steadily over the bridle paths for a couple of hours or take a three mile walk through Hyde Park. .
He wasn't sure which he disliked more, but he was making so little headway with her, and she was so terribly popular, that he had to snatch at any opportunities he could get.
Perhaps this morning he would be able to talk her into a date tonight. Suddenly it happened.
He heard the warning rasp and squeak of her door opening. It rasped and squeaked because he'd bent a rusty nail into the lower hinge. Quickly he strode out into the hall, managing to look mildly surprised at seeing her.
"Fancy,” Michael said brightly. "You out early again, too?"
“Morning, Michael ! "
She always seemed pleased to see him, so it baffled him that in the six months since she'd moved into the opposite flat, he hadn't been able to develop their relationship much beyond that.
THEY walked down into the early morning street, quiet and cool until the sun would come out later to warm it.
"Nothing like the morning air, is there?" Michael said fervently, feeling his lungs, so good about dealing with nightclub smoke, quiver with shilled shock. Diana didn't answer, she just smiled and headed for the park.
"Do you mind if I walk with you? " Michael asked casually.
"Not a bit," she said pleasantly, and so they ”strolled" at a pace which Michael thought a Derby winner might not despise.
About two hours later, back at the squeaking door, came the moment when Michael's bravery in the face of hardship generally got its reward.
"Come in, Michael," Diana said " I'll make you some coffee."
"I'd love to," said Michael heartily. Sometimes he got left outside the squeaking door, and then Sunday was long and halting.
He'd spend it on the sofa, half dozing, keeping an eye on the activities across the hall, sometimes seeing her go off in the afternoon with an arty-looking fellow in a wool shirt and tweedy trousers, and other times with a very serious looking bank clerk type.
She went out with so many dim looking types, he couldn’t understand why he didn't even manage to get a date with her. It annoyed him almost to insomnia.
But only after she was out of reach for the rest of the day would he bestir himself to make plans of his own. Luckily there was always Marian.
But today looked promising. He was on the right side of the door, and the flat was scented with delectable smells from the small kitchen, where Marian, who shared the flat, was frying. Scotch pancakes and bacon and coffee.
She smiled sleepily at them.
"Who won the four minute mile today?" she asked, laying a third place at the table.
"If I lose a pound," Diana said, "I don't care who wins."
She picked up a strip of bacon, but Marian took it away quickly, stuffed it in her own mouth, and handed Diana a plate on which there were two other pieces of bacon.
“Leaner," Marian said.
" You girls make me laugh," Michael said, looking at Diana's figure, which was absolutely stunning. "Acting as if every ounce was a matter of life and death."
"Matter of bread and butter," Diana said, "since I model bathing suits."
"So model a slightly larger size," Michael told her. The girls exchanged a rueful look, and Diana gave Marian an affectionate push towards the kitchen. “But this morning I'm going to have one of your Scotch pancakes.”
IT was one of the best Sundays Michael had ever spent. A big, leisurely breakfast, and then he stretched out on the sofa with a Sunday paper. Diana relaxed in the big chair with a fashion magazine, and Marian lay on her tummy on the floor reading the agony column of one of the more lurid editions of Sunday literature.
"Listen to this one," Marian said. "It says: I have just won eighty thousand, in the Pools. My boy friend who is the only son of a millionaire, objects. What shall I do? Signed Bewildered. "
Diana protested: "You're making them up again!" She made a grab at the paper to prove it, but Marian fought for it till it was torn and past proving anything.
DIANA ended up, laughing breathlessly, with her head against the sofa, close to Michael's arm, and it seemed like a good moment to take his chance.
He spoke casually. "A chap gave me some tickets for a concert tonight. How about it?"
“Heavens," Diana said, frowning a little, and he knew the answer. “I'd love to, Michael, only I've got a date I just couldn't break."
Michael managed a smile and looked towards Marian.
"Marian, maybe if you're not busy. . . ?" And he knew her answer, because she never was busy. She never seemed to have any dates somehow. He couldn't understand it, because she was so sweet.
"By a rare coincidence Marian said, "I just happen to be available this evening, and I'd love to go."
So that was that again. Well he and Marian usually had fun together, and he could at least talk about Diana.
The concert was good and he had forgotten Diana for a few hours, but as they came out of the concert hall they bumped into one of the dim- looking men Michael had seen her with, once or twice.
Marian introduced them uneasily.
" Michael Eliot, this is Frank Brooks. " The men shook hands briefly, disliked each other permanently.
"I thought Diana said you were going home for the weekend," Frank said to Marian.
"I meant to," Marian answered lightly. “But I changed my mind.”
The crowd parted them then, but Michael looked back at the other man disapprovingly.
"He looks rather dull, doesn't he?" he said irritably. "Can't see why she goes out with him." "Oh, Frank's very nice, in a serious way, and. . . ." She hesitated. "Diana's quite fond of him.”
Michael was silent for a moment but then his annoyance finally forced him to ask: "But why doesn't she like me better? "
“You're sure you want to know?” Marian asked thoughtfully, and as he waited inexorably, she sighed. "She says you're a 3D man."
"A what man?"
"3D. She says you're the type who gives every attractive female a wonderful time for three dreamy, delightful, delirious-months, and then you forget about her completely."
Michael stiffened, his eyes full of outraged innocence, and she went on quickly: "You see, she knows a couple of girls you used to go out with-Helen Bateson and Joyce."
"I never went out with a Joyce in my life!" he claimed indignantly. "Joyce what?"
"Dodson," Marian said watching him curiously.
"Oh," Michael said. "Joyce Dodson. . Well, perhaps I did take her out a couple 'of times."
"That isn't the impression she gave Diana. After three dreamy months during which you behaved as if she were the only girl in the world, you said good night one evening very competently, she said and she never heard your deep, smooth voice again. Diana says she's getting too old to waste her time."
" But, " gasped Michael, appalled at this dreadful practicality of the feminine mind, "she's only twenty-four."
" Almost twenty-five," Marion, twenty-two, sympathetically agreed. "We begin to get panicky when we're that old and still on the loose. Of course I told her I thought she was making a mistake. That even if you had been a 3D man, the right girl could make you, settle down fairly quickly. But she said if a man was still a 3D in his thirties, he couldn't change even if he wanted to."
"I'm not in my thirties," Michael said angrily. "I just don't get enough sleep."
"Another thing, she thinks you're some kind of health fiend getting up at dawn to do deep breathing, or, running through the park."
" She does it !" Michael struggled, red-faced, for control.
"She has to, because Sunday is such a terribly tempting day for serious dieters, but she'd really like to give up her job and marry a nice, quiet type."
"I'm a nice quiet type," Michael told her sharply, "and I only rush to greet the rosy-fingered dawn because Diana is there."
"I thought that was it," Marian nodded.
MICHAEL was impatient to correct Diana's mistaken estimate of him, and when Marian, unlocking the door, asked him, as she generally did, if he'd like to come in, he went in, as he generally did, hoping Diana would come in early,which she generally didn't. But at two o'clock he stumbled sleepily across the hall without having seen her.
He made several silly mistakes at the office next day because his mind was busy refuting Diana's accusation.
A 3D man! Was it a crime to take a few girls out? Was he expected to apply for a marriage licence on the second date? He had to find out, first, didn't he?
When he got home, Marian was just pushing the squeaking door open. She usually got home at the same time as he did. Michael took the basket of groceries from her and carried it in, looking hopefully around for signs of Diana.
"She won't be home till late," Marian said. Her voice sounded tired. Michael was unusually disappointed. He dreaded an evening alone in his irritated mood, and he wanted to talk this thing over.
"Well," he said, somewhat resignedly, "Marian, maybe you"
She,interrupted him violently. "That's me! Marian Maybe!"
"What's that?" Michael asked blankly, backing away.
"If you can't get Diana, then it's 'Marian, maybe if you're not busy.' "You!” She moved closer.
"I lost a pound rise today because of you. In fact I almost got the sack because I'm late and make mistakes every Monday, and I sneak out ten minutes early every night, just so I'll be coming in when you are.
"Life used to be so nice and cheerful before I moved in here,” she wailed, and then stopped short, aghast at what she'd revealed.
She turned away from him and spoke in a chocked voice : "I'm sorry; Michael. It really isn't your fault."
Then she ran into the bedroom and slammed the door behind her.
Michael felt dazed and rather silly, 'He-put-1:he-basket-down very- solicitously in the most comfortable chair, waited a few moments in uncomfortable chivalry, then escaped to a dimly lighted pub round the corner.
THIS was going to make things even more difficult with Diana. He'd only be able to see her now when Marian wasn't around.
He felt a confusion of feelings about Marian, and decided he'd have to let things cool down for a while.
So he had supper in town every night that week, staying out late, and on Sunday morning, although he heard the squeaking door, he held himself firmly in bed.
But when Diana came back, he met her in the hall.
"I'm just going-out' for some breakfast," he said casually. "Come and have some with me?"
"I couldn't walk another step," Diana said. "Come and have coffee with me instead. " He hesitated, but then, he had to see Marian sometime, so he braced himself with a big smile. But the flat was quiet, empty of delectable break fast smells and empty of Marian.
"I've lost my flat-mate,” Diana complained. “She moved yesterday.”
"Oh? What happened?” He looked at Diana cautiously.
"She's been wanting to find a flat closer to her job. She was offered a real bargain so she took it."
Diana looked thoughtfully at the frying pan. "But I'll miss her. I hate being alone.”
"You don't have to be alone,” he said. He stood up, and spoke decisively. No more of this Sunday mousing. "There's a sherry party tonight at my boss's house, and I
promised to bring a beautiful redhead, so i don’t care how many dates you’ve got you'll just have. to break them and come along with me."
It worked. She said quite meekly: "I'd love to, Michael."
And after that, everything just sailed along. She answered all of his invitations with a quick "I'd love to, Michael," and he was excited and triumphant.
In fact everything would have been perfect it hadn't been for Marian.
He was worried about her.
He kept watching out for her to come back and see Diana, but she never did. It seemed funny, as close as the two girls had been, that Diana never gave her a thought any more.
"Marian?" she'd say vaguely. "I expect she's all right."
"But haven't you seen her at all since she moved? "
"We were going to have lunch once, but you know how it is... You lose touch."
He felt a frustrated sense of incompletion. It didn’t seem right to lose touch with Marian.
“Why don't you phone her now?
"I don't think she ash a phone."
Somehow that made Marian seem even more remote. It worried him more all the time.
"What's Marian's address?" he asked casually one night, "I want to send her a birthday card."
Diana laughed. "It's weeks et her birthday, and anyway, Iv’e lost her address."
‘Well I’ll send it to her at her office," Michael said. But then he thought: No, I'll phone her there tomorrow. It was common decency to see how she was.
"Yes, why don't you? They'll forward it. She's changed jobs, Frank: was telling me. You met Frank Brooks, didn’t you? ..
Yes, Michael remembered him vaguely, but he wasn't jealous of him not with Diana close and warmly perfumed bedside him in the taxi and it was a very satisfactory ride home, a perfect ending to a most. enjoyable evening. Yes, he thought hazily, a perfect ending. . . . “
At the door, he bent to kiss her, which he did very competently, and then . . ." Goodbye, darling," he said very clearly, instead of “Good night," as he'd intended, and he heard, the finality in his voice with a chill of self-knowledge. .
This had happened before, quite a few times before, he realized now. A wonderful girl and a wonderful time, and then suddenly it was over.
" Goodbye? " Diana asked, drawing away from him.
"A slip of the tongue,” he said hastily. “I had too much wine."
“ In vino veritas “ she said “which means, a mellow fellow tells the truth. l think my three months are up.
DIANA didn't seem, angry about it. She opened the door and said quite soothingly: “I think you'd better come in for a minute."
He followed her miserably.
"It's-all right, Michael. I've had a fine time, too, and no harm done because I've been in love with some body else for what seems to me an eternity...” She smiled wryly.,
" But it’s really less than a year since Marian brought Frank Brooks home one fateful night. Of course, he couldn’t see anybody but Marian, although she used to cancel most of' her dates with him at the last minute so that I could take over. . . "
"Frank Brooks?" Michael said dazedly. "Yes, I remember. . . met him once--." "
Marian usually told him she was going home for the weekend, so that I'd get a chance, and I do think it'll work out, ultimately." She looked at Michael's face and laughed. "She used to say it was a vicious circle made up of two gruesome twosomes."
Her laugh faded, and she reached out to touch Michael's arm sympathetically. "I miss her almost as much as you do, and although she made me promise not to give you her address, if you're not too ethical to look in the top drawer of the desk there, you may find a clue."
MARIAN wasn't asleep when the phone rang, and she knew his voice at once. Her heart began to run wild, but the wording of his request was unfortunate,
"Marian, maybe you'd let me come up fore just a minute? "
She was dying to see him, but she answered coldly: "It's 'almost two! And you at some party? Or I suppose you had a row 'with Diana and hope Marian Maybe will listen to your woes."
"No;" he said urgently. "It isn't like that. Diana was right about me, I am a 3D man to her, and I am glad she proved it to me. But you were more right. For you, I'm the quiet type. I've been looking for you."
”You certainly didn't seem to recognize me," Marian said bitterly. ''I’m not sure now you even know what I look like."
She was wrong about that.
He saw her as he’d never seen any other girl, and didn't know why he'd not seen her sooner.
" I admit I’m stupid;" Michael said slowly. “It wasn’t until mafter you’d left, that sounds like a popular song, but I mean it ! "
"Perhaps' you do now, but in three months. you'll have forgotten my name, too." And she rang off.
She didn't answer when the telephone rang again, and a half-hour later she didn't answer the doorbell either-just hung on to the bedpost and cried.
The next two weeks proved to her that her fear was true. Michael’s phone call had been only an impulse, in a bored or stimulated evening, and he had already forgotten her.
Then they started arriving. They came to the office and to her home in bunches of twos and threes.
She opened the first stiff white envelope curiously.
It was an invitation, formal in old English script, and it read:
Mr. Michael John Eliot respectfully requests the company of Miss Marian Maybe at an Informal Supper at Hotdogs in Heaven the night of May 30, 1955 at seven thirty R.S.V.P.
Marian stared at it a long time before she opened the other ones, which invited her to a birthday party on June 24 (that was her birthday), 1955, and engagement party on February 12th., 1956, a wedding reception on June 30th., 1956, a housewarming on April 3rd., 1958, and a Christening of Michael Eliot Jr., or Marian Eliot, on March 13th., 1959.
There was also a Burning of the Mortgage in October, 19??, and assorted others, over the years to come.
The invitations came in steadily all week, dozens of them. Marian read them, smiling sometimes at their ludicrousness, but wondering how much she could count on them.
Michael delivered the last one in person. He was in her hallway when she came home, holding a large, white envelope.
"It won't go in the box," he explained.
She opened it nervously.
It was an invitation to the fiftieth anniversary, the golden wedding of Michael and Marian Eliot, in glittering gold letters. It looked very beautiful to Marian, but.
There was something else in the envelope; she drew it out. It was a bill the printer's bill.
"That shouldn't be in there” Michael said quickly and tried to take it from her, but she was staring, appalled, at its total.
"Michael Eliot" she said, reproachfully. "How could you have spent so much money on such nonsense!"
And yet, in a curious way, she was so deeply pleased and reassured by the trouble and expense he had gone to, that her doubts were dispelled.
" It was the only way I could think of to make you see how permanent I feel about you." He took her wrists in his hands and looked steadily down into her eyes. "The invitations all say R.S.V.P. Can you come?"
" Yes!” the one time Marian Maybe said decisively to the erstwhile Sunday Mouse.
"Very definitely, yes!" »» ..... the end
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