Leah already had the address of some lodgings recommended to her by a neighbour. She engaged them, and on a fine July day went down to Margate by the express with her children, Golda, and Issy.
The lodgings were let by a handsome, florid woman with masses of bleached golden hair, a ruddled complexion, fat hands covered with cheap rings, plump wrists rattling with bracelets, and a full bosom on which brooches gleamed. Leah thought her a very fine woman, and was so fascinated by her that she stayed indoors day after day, helping with the housework and gossiping, so that she never once saw the sea, except from the train as she was leaving. Mrs. Finch was a lady, by birth, but she had been unfortunate. She had an uncle in the Army and a cousin in the War Office, and she had lived in London, in the best part of the town, where, in her best days, she had had her flat. Also she had travelled and had been to Paris and Vienna. But she had been unfortunate in her friends. Leah commiserated her, and, open-mouthed, gulped down all her tales of the gentlemen she had known, while Golda, eager for more information of the glittering world which had swallowed up her Mendel, listened too, fascinated and shuddering. And Leah, to show that she also was a person of some consequence, began to talk of her wonderful brother. She told of the motor-car which had come and whirled him away, of his visit to the millionaire’s house, of the fine friends he was making, of the men and women he knew whose names were in the papers.
“Every day,” she said, “he is out to tea, and every evening he is out at theatres and music-halls and parties and flats and hotels, and his friends are so rich that they pour money into his pockets. He just makes a few lines on a piece of paper and they give him twenty pounds, or he makes up some paint to look like a face or a pineapple and his pockets are full of money.”
“Yes,” said Golda uneasily. “He will be very rich.”
“Then next time you come to Margate,” said Mrs. Finch, “it will be the Cliftonville, and you’ll despise my poor lodgings.”
“Oh no,” cried Leah, “for it is like staying with a friend.”
Every day Leah added something to the legend of Mendel, Mrs. Finch urging her on with romances of her own splendid days. But the most eager listener was Hetty, the girl who did the rough work of the house and was never properly dressed until the evening, because, from the moment when she woke up in the morning until after supper, she was kept running hither and thither at Mrs. Finch’s commands. She was sufficiently like Mrs. Finch to justify Golda in her supposition that she was that fine woman’s daughter, but nothing was ever said in the matter. Hetty did not have her meals with them, and, indeed, there was no evidence that she had any meals. In the evenings she was allowed to go out, and she would come back at half-past ten or so with her big eyes shining and a flush fading from her cheeks and leaving them whiter than ever. Very big were her eyes, very big and pathetic, and her face was a perfect oval. She had rather full lips, always moist and red. During the whole fortnight she never spoke a word except to Issy. Indeed, she avoided Golda and Leah, and she alarmed Issy by what he took to be her forwardness, when she asked him to take her to the theatre. He complied with her request, but he was much too frightened of her to speak, and he could think of nothing to say except to offer to buy her chocolates and cigarettes, which she accepted as though it was the natural thing for him to give her presents. She talked to him about Mendel, and wanted to know if it was true that he knew lords and had real gentlemen to tea with him in his studio.
“There’s more goes on in his studio than I could tell you,” said Issy with a dry, uncomfortable laugh. “Artists, you know!”
“Oh yes! Artists!” said Hetty with a dreamy, wistful look in her eyes as she drew in her lower lip with a slight sucking noise. “I wish I lived in London, I do. Ma used to live in London, but she’s too old now to find any one to take her back there. It’s dull here. Does your brother ever come to Margate?”