What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? (28 page)

“Poor Mr. Tuteur,” Meg murmured breathlessly.

After that, Orvil and Meg were a twosome. Alternately they had dinner at Meg’s apartment and at the little restaurant. Occasionally, they went to the movies, but mostly they just sat and talked, and Orvil at last got to say a lot of the things he had always wanted to say to someone.

During the day, Orvil reported to the studio and sat quietly in
his second-story cubicle, because Meg told him it was the thing to do. He took his egg home to the cottage and left it in the kitchen, since it was evident that Pacific Pictures was not seriously interested in eggs, even prehistoric ones.

As time passed, a new contentment came to Orvil. His friendship with Meg made up for all the disappointments of the past. At the end of the third week it was clear to him that this girl with the black hair and the enraptured brown eyes had become his whole reason for living. That night at the restaurant, taking his courage tremblingly in his hand, he blurted out a proposal.

“Maybe it’s because you’re so good about listening to me, Meg,” he said, “but I love you, and I think we should get married.”

Meg smiled radiantly and put her hand on his. “That’s what I’ve been listening for,” she said, and then, right there in the restaurant, she leaned across the table and kissed him on the forehead. “Bless your heart, Orvil.”

The rest of the evening seemed aglitter with magic, and for the first time since they had met Orvil found that he had nothing to say to her. After dinner, they strolled the sidewalk, hand in hand, turning occasionally to smile at each other with a sort of choked-up happiness. When they reached Meg’s apartment house, Orvil kissed her hesitantly on the lips.

“Gosh,” Meg sighed, “that’s just the way I’ve always wanted to be kissed. Who’d have thought it would happen in Hollywood?”

“I guess I’m not very experienced,” Orvil said apologetically.

“You will be,” Meg said and went inside.

At that moment it was inconceivable that any tragedy could possibly befall them.

Orvil returned to the cottage in a transport of joy. He had Meg, he had a job—of sorts—and he had the egg. Life had nothing more to offer. Orvil let himself in the door and made his way directly to the kitchen. In this moment of almost supreme happiness, he wanted to be with his cherished trophy. He switched on the light, gazed lovingly downward and, then, uttered a strangled
cry of horror. The egg, lying in its crate next to the stove, had been smashed into mere fragments.

For a moment Orvil simply could not believe it; it was beyond belief that this should happen to him just when life was so full.

He found his way blindly to the kitchen table and collapsed into a chair. He couldn’t imagine what had happened to the egg. It fleetingly crossed his mind that it could be mended, but he knew it would never be the same. He stared dully into space.

He was still sitting there when the furtive noise first sounded in the bedroom. He sat up sharply and cocked an ear in that direction. The noise, soft and scraping, came again. He stood up with resolution and started warily toward the door. If the vandal who had done this thing to him were still in the house, he knew what to do about it.

He crept into the darkened hallway and up to the bedroom door. There he paused, listening. The sound came again. Orvil moved decisively. All in one swift, sure movement, he leaped into the room and switched on the light.

“
So
!” he cried.

Feet braced, fists fixed at ready, he stood inside the doorway and looked bewilderedly around the room. There was nothing. For a moment silence reigned, then the scraping sounded again. Orvil’s eyes lowered suspiciously to the bed.

He approached the bed warily, then, dropping to his knees, he quickly lifted the spread and looked underneath. He started with surprise. He found himself confronted by a small, freakish-looking creature who stared back at him with large worried eyes.

At first glance the animal somewhat resembled a large beaver that had somehow gotten its neck stretched. Its head was small; its brown, pear-shaped body tapered off at the bottom into a sort of abbreviated paddle tail.

For a moment Orvil doubted his senses; it was not possible that this curious animal, quavering before him, was what he knew it must be. The small, angling forefeet, the larger hindfeet that supported
the awkward body in an upright position, the long neck and the hopefully grinning mouth—all these characteristics pointed to but one thing—the egg had not broken, but hatched, and the pathetic, frightened-eyed thing blinking at him from under the bed was the first living dinosaur the world had known for hundreds of centuries!

Sitting back on his haunches, Orvil checked his pulse and closed his eyes and touched the end of his nose with the tip of his forefinger. Everything was normal. When he opened his eyes again the animal was still there. It was holding its forepaws up defensively in front of its face.

Tentatively, Orvil extended a hand to the creature, but the poor thing only flattened itself into a corner and made a small hissing noise that was mindful of a terrified teakettle.

Orvil didn’t know quite what to do. He had to find a way to gain the dinosaur’s confidence and coax it from beneath the bed. Deciding that most young things were always hungry, he went to the kitchen and brought back a bowl of milk. He put it on the floor at the side of the bed.

The dinosaur emerged slowly, sticking its head out from beneath the spread, then inching forward a bit at a time. When finally it reached the milk it siphoned the bowl dry with a single gulp. Then it settled back and licked its paws. It looked up at Orvil with its wide-jawed grin and hissed with unmistakable gratitude. Orvil sat down limply on the edge of the bed, too overwhelmed to do anything else for the moment.

As a student of
National Geographic
, Orvil knew perfectly well that what had happened was impossible, but still it
had
happened, and after all who really knew which came first, the dinosaur or the egg? Perhaps this was nature’s way of starting a whole new race of dinosaurs. He swung around and grabbed up the telephone from the night stand. He dialed Meg’s number and presently got an answer.

“Yes?” Meg drawled sleepily, “who is it, please?”

“Meg!” Orvil cried, “guess what happened! The egg—you know, the egg—it’s hatched! It’s a dinosaur!”

“You’re sweet to call and say so, dear,” Meg said faintly. “I love you, too.” And she hung up.

Orvil put the receiver resignedly back in the cradle; evidently Meg was not at her best when asleep. He felt something against the leg of his trousers and looked down to find the dinosaur nuzzling him with what appeared to be warm affection. He reached down and scratched its head, and it hissed contentedly.

It was around nine o’clock in the morning when Orvil, having called all night, finally reached Mr. Martin Grossbeck.

“Orvil Sleeper?” Mr. Grossbeck said irritably. “Aren’t you the brain who wrote this fracas we’re trying to film?”

“I didn’t write it, Mr. Grossbeck,” Orvil said. “I’m the fellow who went up north, you know, and brought back the egg…”

“Did you ever!” Mr. Grossbeck said nastily. “You shoulda left it in the frozen north where it at least wouldn’t stink so bad.”

“But, Mr. Grossbeck!” Orvil said imperatively. “Listen! A terrific thing has happened. You can make a fortune with your picture no matter how bad it is. All you have to do is change a few things back the way they were.” He took a deep breath. “The egg hatched last night, Mr. Grossbeck, and you can believe it or not but I’ve got a dinosaur right here in my bedroom this morning!” He waited for a response, but there was none. “Are you surprised, Mr. Grossbeck?”

In the moment of silence that ensued, Mr. Grossbeck hung up very quietly.

“Mr. Grossbeck!” Orvil cried. “Mr. Grossbeck!” Realizing it was hopeless, he put the phone back. Instantly it rang and he snatched it up again. “Mr. Grossbeck?”

“Orvil?” Meg said. “Is that you, Orvil?”

“Meg!” Orvil cried elatedly.

“Why aren’t you at the studio, Orvil?” Meg asked. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, dear—sure! I’m wonderful! It’s just that—!”

“Did you call me last night, after you went home?” Meg broke in.

“Yes. I wanted to tell you—!”

“I thought you did. I guess I was asleep. Was there something you especially wanted to tell me, Orvil?”

“Yes, dear, yes! The most wonderful thing has happened. You’ll never believe it but—you know the egg—?”

“The big one you keep talking about?”

“Yes,” Orvil said, “that’s the one. Well, it’s done something fantastic! It’s hatched! It did it last night. I left the heat on in the kitchen and—well—it’s a dinosaur this morning!” There was a moment of silence as before with Mr. Grossbeck. “I know it sounds crazy, but—”

“Are you trying to be funny, Orvil?” Meg asked uncertainly. “You sound so serious.”

“I am serious!” Orvil cried. “It’s true. I’ve got a dinosaur. It’s asleep on my bed.” There was another pause.

“Do you feel very warm, Orvil?” Meg enquired, her voice curiously calm. “Do you notice that your face is flushed or broken out?”

“No, no!” Orvil protested. “You don’t understand!”

“You
did
say you had a dinosaur, didn’t you?”

“Yes, that’s right. It’s on my bed.”

“I’ll be right over,” Meg said quickly. “You just stay quiet until I get there and try not to think about anything.” She hung up.

Orvil turned back the corner of the spread at the foot of the bed and looked at the dinosaur which was sleeping quietly with its blunt muzzle between its paws. With this reassurance he picked up the phone again and dialed the number of the University of California. While he was waiting for the connection with the science department, he searched through the phone book for the numbers of the other universities and a couple of the leading newspapers.

Meg was the first to arrive. Orvil was waiting by the door when she rang the bell.

“Hello, dear!” he said brightly. He threw the door wide and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Step inside!”

Meg’s dark eyes searched his face anxiously. “Has something happened to upset you, Orvil?” she asked.

“Not a thing,” Orvil said smugly. He led her inside the living room and closed the door. “Of course if you want to think I’m crazy, like everyone else does—”

“Oh, no, Orvil, I don’t—!” Meg said. “What do you mean, everyone else?”

“Never mind,” Orvil said. “Now, if you’d like to see for yourself—” Taking her arm, he led her to the bedroom, crossed to the bed and holding out one hand ceremoniously swept back the spread with the other. Watching Meg’s face, however, his hand suddenly wilted. He turned to the bed and his face blanched white. The dinosaur was not there.

“There’s nothing there, Orvil,” Meg said hauntedly.

“But there
is
!” Orvil said excitedly. “There
was
!”

Pulling a handkerchief from the front of her dress, Meg burst into tears and ran from the room. Orvil looked after her, his brow creased with distress. Then, hearing a faint hissing sound, he knelt down beside the bed and looked underneath. The dinosaur, trembling with fright, was crowded back against the wall.

“I should have thought,” Orvil said, “you’re a shy guy, aren’t you?”

The dinosaur crept toward him and laid its head against his hand. The doorbell rang. After a moment’s hesitation Orvil got to his feet and went out to the living room. Meg was quietly weeping into her handkerchief, but he didn’t have time to do anything about it. He crossed to the door and threw it open. It was a sandy-haired gentleman in a tweed suit who identified himself as a professor of science from the University of California.

“Are you the gentleman with the dinosaur?” he asked. There was a sly, sardonic look in his eyes.

Orvil started to close the door but just then three other men appeared on the walk. As they approached the house they seemed faintly amused at something. Upon introduction, they proved also to be professors. Orvil waved them inside and addressed them in a composed manner. He announced that if they would just be seated he would run along and fetch his dinosaur. Meg looked up from her handkerchief.

“Oh, Orvil!” she wailed.

Orvil returned to the bedroom and knelt down beside the bed. He started to reach his hand underneath, then stopped. The space beneath the bed was starkly uninhabited. The dinosaur had disappeared again.

Orvil searched the room, first systematically, then frantically, but the dinosaur appeared to have vanished utterly. He was standing bewilderedly in the center of the room when the first one of the professors stuck his head through the door.

“Having difficulty with the beast, Mr. Sleeper?” he enquired dryly.

“I can’t seem to find it,” Orvil said. “It was right here just a moment ago.”

“I see,” the scientist said. “Well, my colleagues and I have to run along now. Perhaps later, when you’ve located your dinosaur again, you’ll drop us a note.”

“But you can’t go yet!” Orvil cried, following the man back to the living room and out the front door where the others had already started down the walk. “I can show you the egg it hatched from! Please come back!”

Undeterred, the scientists continued out to the sidewalk and their cars. Orvil watched them drive away and then went back inside the house. Meg looked up at him with reddened eyes.

“Oh, Orvil!” she whimpered.

“Stop saying that!” Orvil said, beginning to feel a bit put out. “I’m not crazy! You just wait till the newspaper men get here!”

Meg leaped from her chair. “Newspaper men!” she shrieked.
She clutched at his sleeve. “Oh, no, you mustn’t let them in, Orvil! It’s bad enough already!”

“Excuse me,” Orvil said loftily, setting himself free from her grasp. “I have to locate my dinosaur.”

The dinosaur, when Orvil found it, was hiding behind its old packing crate in the kitchen. Orvil put out his hand and it came to him instantly.

“Meg!” Orvil called. “Come look, I’ve found it!”

“
Please
, Orvil!” Meg wailed from the living room. “I don’t think I can stand any more of this! If I just didn’t love you so desperately—!”