The Collected Short Stories of Roald Dahl Volume 1 Read online

  "Don't be such a bloody fool," said Stuffy.

  "It's true. It's absolutely true. Thirty-three squadron told me about her."

  "They were pulling your leg."

  "All right. You go and look her up in the phone book."

  "She wouldn't be in the phone book under that name."

  "I'm telling you she is," said Stag. "Go and look her up under Rosette. You'll see I'm right."

  Stuffy did not believe him, but he went over to Tim and asked him for a telephone directory and brought it back to the table. He opened it and turned the pages until he came to R-o-s. He ran his finger down the column. Roseppi… Rosery Rosette. There it was, Rosette, Madame and the address and number, clearly printed in the book. The Stag was watching him.

  "Got it?" he said.

  "Yes, here it is. Madame Rosette."

  "Well, why don't you go and ring her up?"

  "What shall I say?"

  The Stag looked down into his glass and poked the ice with his finger.

  "Tell her you are a Colonel," he said. "Colonel Higgins; she mistrusts pilot officers. And tell her that you have seen a beautiful dark girl selling sunglasses at Cicurel's and that you would like, as you put it, to take her out to dinner."

  "There isn't a telephone here."

  "Oh yes there is. There's one over there."

  Stuffy looked around and saw the telephone on the wall at the end of the bar.

  "I haven't got a piastre piece."

  "Well, I have," said Stag. He fished in his pocket and put a piastre on the table.

  "Tim will hear everything I say."

  "What the hell does that matter? He probably rings her up himself. You're windy," he added.

  "You're a shit," said Stuffy.

  Stuffy was just a child. He was nineteen; seven whole years younger than the Stag. He was fairly tall and he was thin, with a lot of black hair and a handsome wide-mouthed face which was coffee brown from the sun of the desert. He was unquestionably the finest pilot in the squadron, and already in these early days, his score was fourteen Italians confirmed destroyed. On the ground he moved slowly and lazily like a tired person and he thought slowly and lazily like a sleepy child, but when he was up in the air his mind was quick and his movements were quick, so quick that they were like reflex actions. It seemed, when he was on the ground, almost as though he was resting, as though he was dozing a little in order to make sure that when he got into the cockpit he would wake up fresh and quick, ready for that two hours of high concentration. But Stuffy was away from the aerodrome now and he had something on his mind which had waked him up almost like flying. It might not last, but for the moment anyway, he was concentrating.

  He looked again in the book for the number, got up and walked slowly over to the telephone. He put in the piastre, dialled the number and heard it ringing the other end. The Stag was sitting at the table looking at him and Tim was still behind the bar arranging his bottles. Tim was only about five yards away and he was obviously going to listen to everything that was said. Stuffy felt rather foolish. He leaned against the bar and waited, hoping that no one would answer.

  Then click, the receiver was lifted at the other end and he heard a woman's voice saying, "Allo."

  He said, "Hello, is Madame Rosette there?" He was watching Tim. Tim went on arranging his bottles, pretending to take no notice, but Stuffy knew that he was listening.

  "This ees Madame Rosette. Oo ees it?" Her voice was petulant and gritty. She sounded as if she did not want to be bothered with anyone just then.

  Stuffy tried to sound casual. "This is Colonel Higgins."

  "Colonel oo?"

  "Colonel Higgins." He spelled it.

  "Yes, Colonel. What do you want?" She sounded impatient. Obviously this was a woman who stood no nonsense. He still tried to sound casual.

  "Well, Madame Rosette, I was wondering if you would help me over a little matter."

  Stuffy was watching Tim. He was listening all right. You can always tell if someone is listening when he is pretending not to. He is careful not to make any noise about what he is doing and he pretends that he is concentrating very hard upon his job. Tim was like that now, moving the bottles quickly from one shelf to another, watching the bottles, making no noise, never looking around into the room. Over in the far corner the Stag was leaning forward with his elbows on the table, smoking a cigarette. He was watching Stuffy, enjoying the whole business and knowing that Stuffy was embarrassed because of Tim. Stuffy had to go on.

  "I was wondering if you could help me," he said. "I was in Cicurel's today buying a pair of sunglasses and I saw a girl there whom I would very much like to take out to dinner."

  "What's "er name?" The hard, rasping voice was more business-like than ever.

  "I don't know," he said, sheepishly.

  "What's she look like?"

  "Well, she's got dark hair, and tall and, well, she's very beautiful."

  "What sort of dress was she wearing?"

  "Er, let me see. I think it was a kind of white dress with red flowers printed all over it." Then, as a brilliant afterthought, he added, "She had a red belt." He remembered that she had been wearing a shiny red belt.

  There was a pause. Stuffy watched Tim who wasn't making any noise with the bottles; he was picking them up carefully and putting them down carefully.

  Then the loud gritty voice again, "It may cost you a lot."

  "That's all right." Suddenly he didn't like the conversation any more. He wanted to finish it and get away.

  "Might cost you six pounds, might cost you eight or ten. I don't know till I've seen her. That all right?"

  "Yes yes, that's all right."

  "Where you living, Colonel?"

  "Metropolitan Hotel," he said without thinking.

  "All right, I give you a ring later." And she put down the receiver, bang.

  Stuffy hung up, went slowly back to the table and sat down.

  "Well," said Stag, "that was all right, wasn't it?"

  "Yes, I suppose so."

  "What did she say?"

  "She said that she would call me back at the hotel."

  "You mean she'll call Colonel Higgins at the hotel."

  Stuffy said, "Oh Christ."

  Stag said, "It's all right. We'll tell the desk that the Colonel is in our room and to put his calls through to us. "What else did she say?"

  "She said it may cost me a lot, six or ten pounds."

  "Rosette will take ninety per cent of it," said Stag. "She's a filthy old Syrian Jewess."

  "How will she work it?" Stuffy said.

  He was really a gentle person and now he was feeling worried about having started something which might become complicated.

  "Well," said Stag, "she'll dispatch one of her pimps to locate the girl and find out who she is. If she's already on the books, then it's easy. If she isn't, the pimp will proposition her there and then over the counter at Cicurel's. If the girl tells him to go to hell, he'll up the price, and if she still tells him to go to hell, he'll up the price still more, and in the end she'll be tempted by the cash and probably agree. Then Rosette quotes you a price three times as high and takes the balance herself. You have to pay her, not the girl. Of course, after that the girl goes on Rosette's books, and once she's in her clutches she's finished. Next time Rosette will dictate the price and the girl will not be in a position to argue."

  "Why?"

  "Because if she refuses, Rosette will say, "All right, my girl, I shall see that your employers, that's Cicurel's, are told about what you did last time, how you've been working for me and using their shop as a market place. Then they'll fire you.' That's what Rosette will say, and the wretched girl will be frightened and do what she's told."

  Stuffy said, "Sounds like a nice person."

  "Who?"

  "Madame Rosette."

  "Charming," said Stag. "She's a charming person."

  It was hot. Stuffy wiped his face with his handkerchief "More whisky," said Stag. "Hi,