The Collector

 "Condition?" Her face dropped. She knew at once.

 I've been thinking, I said.

 "Yes?" Really burning, her eyes were.

 I'd like to take some photographs.

 "Of me? But you've taken a lot already."

 Not the sort I mean.

 "I don't understand." But I could see she did.

 I want to take pictures of you like you were the other evening, I said.

 She sat on the end of her bed.

 "Go on."

 And you've got to look as if you enjoyed posing, I said. You got to pose the way I tell you.

 Well she just sat there, not saying a word. I thought at least she would get angry. She just sat there wiping her nose.

 "If I do it?"

 I'll keep my side of the bargain, I said. I got to protect myself. I want some photos of you what you would be ashamed to let anyone else see.

 "You mean I'm to pose for obscene photographs so that if I escape I shan't dare tell the police about you."

 That's the idea, I said. Not obscene. Just photos you wouldn't want to be published. Art-photographs.

 "No."

 I'm only asking what you did without asking the other day.

 "No, no, no."

 I know your game, I said.

 "What I did then was wrong. I did it, I did it out of despair that there is nothing between us except meanness and suspicion and hate. This is different. It's vile."

 I don't see the difference.

 She got up and went up to the end wall.

 You did it once, I said. You can do it again.

 "God, God, it's like a lunatic asylum." She looked all round the room like I wasn't there, like there was someone else listening or she was going to bust down the walls.

 Either you do it or you don't go out at all. No walking out there. No baths. No nothing.

 I said, you took me in for a bit. You've just got one idea. Get away from me. Make a fool of me and get the police on to me.

 You're no better than a common street-woman, I said. I used to respect you because I thought you were above what you done. Not like the rest. But you're just the same. You do any disgusting thing to get what you want.

 "Stop it, stop it," she cried.

 I could get a lot more expert than you in London. Any time. And do what I liked.

 "You disgusting filthy mean-minded bastard."

 Go on, I said. That's just your language.

 "You're breaking every decent human law, every decent human relationship, every decent thing that's ever happened between your sex and mine."

 Hark at the pot calling the kettle black, I said. You took your clothes off, you asked for it. Now you got it.

 "Get out! Get out!"

 It was a real scream.

 Yes or no, I said.

 She turned and picked up an ink-bottle on her table and hurled it at me.

 So that was that. I went out and bolted up. I didn't take her any supper, I let her stew in her own juice. I had the chicken I bought in case and had some of the champagne and poured the rest down the sink.

 I felt happy, I can't explain, I saw I was weak before, now I was paying her back for all the things she said and thought about me. I walked about upstairs, I went and looked at her room, it made me really laugh to think of her down there, she was the one who was going to stay below in all senses and even if it wasn't what she deserved in the beginning she had made it so that she did now. I had real reasons to teach her what was what.

 Well, I got to sleep in the end, I looked at the previous photos and some books and I got some ideas. There was one of the books called _Shoes_ with very interesting pictures of girls, mainly their legs, wearing different sorts of shoes, some just shoes and belts, they were really unusual pictures, artistic.

 However, when I went down in the morning, I knocked and waited as usual before going in, but when I did I was very surprised she was still in bed, she'd been asleep with her clothes on just under the top blanket and for a moment she didn't seem to know where she was and who I was, I just stood there waiting for her to fly at me, but she just sat up on the edge of the bed and rested her arms on her knees and her head on her hands, like it was all a nightmare and she couldn't bear to wake up.

 She coughed. It sounded a bit chesty. She looked a real mess.

 So I decided not to say anything then, and went and got her breakfast. She drank the coffee when I brought it and ate the cereal, the no eating was off, and then she just went back to the same position, her head on her hands. I knew her game, it was to try and get my pity. She looked properly beaten but I consider it was all a pose to make me fall on my knees and beg for forgiveness or something daft.

 Do you want some Coldrex, I asked. I knew she had the cold all right.

 Well, she nodded, her head still in her hands, so I went and got them and when I came back she hadn't changed her position. You could see it was a big act. Like a sulk. So I thought, well, let her sulk away. I can wait. I asked if she wanted anything, she shook her head, so I left her.