Read Online Darkest Part of the Woods by Ramsey Campbell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ramsey Campbell
Ads: Link
immediately, but Sylvia almost ran to the door. She had one foot on the landing when she said "I don't suppose you'd want to share a room again."
"I've got out of the habit since Sam's father decided Goodmanswood was too small for him."
"Nowhere's small unless your mind is. Hasn't there been anyone since him?"
"Sam's enough of a man in my life just now."
"I can imagine. I meant share a room with me."
"I think we've outgrown that, don't you? Is there something you don't like about your room?"
"Couldn't be improved. I just don't think you can ever grow out of hearing stories in the dark."
Had she been proposing to tell Heather some, or was she nervous of being alone with them at night? Before Heather could ask, Sylvia knocked on Sam's door, provoking the kind of unwelcoming mumble Heather expected, since he had Saturday off work. Nevertheless his aunt ventured into the room, and Heather heard them murmuring. "I'll be in the bathroom," she called.
It had acquired a very few items of Sylvia's: a toothbrush, a hairbrush crested with a comb, a zippered plastic bag. Heather took her time in the shower, but when she stepped out of the bath Sam and her sister were still talking. Steam had gathered on the mirror, to reveal that someone had been sketching with a fingernail on the glass; a circle and a tree-stump or a tower.
She didn't think the artist had any future to speak of. She cleared the quarter of the mirror occupied by the sketch, and then the rest of the glass.
"I don't know about anyone else," she called as she emerged from the bathroom, "but I'm having a bite to eat."
She was halfway through a bowl of Sticky Rotters when she heard Sam's door open, and Sylvia hurried down to join her. "I couldn't persuade him to come with us," she said.
"I expect he felt you should have dad to yourself."
"You'll be there, won't you?"
"If you don't just want me to drive you and stay out of the way while you get reacquainted."
"I don't. I want you to hear everything," Sylvia said, and shook her head at an offer of breakfast. "I'll wait while you finish."
"Coffee?"
"The smell's enough to put me on edge right now," Sylvia said, demonstrating with a squeal of chair-legs on linoleum as the phone rang.
Heather leaned her chair backwards and lifted the receiver down from the wall.
"Heather Price."
"Margo of that line. How's the family now it's back together?"
"How you'd want it to be."
"So long as you do as well."
"I can't see what else I'd want, except for you to be here too."
"Me and one other," Margo said, and with a cheerfulness that sounded only slightly determined "I'm used to having my own place and my own hours that don't disturb anyone else.
It's enough to know I'm welcome when I want to be."
"You know that's whenever. Would you like a word with Sylvie?"
"I'll have one before I leave you in peace. I wanted to let you know I've been speaking to the Arbour. Lennox didn't sleep much last night, apparently. Neither did I, oddly enough.
The piece I'm working on is giving me too many ideas."
"I slept like a log myself. Like a piece of wood with no ideas."
"Well, you were always the placid one. Anyway, I wanted to find out if you were likely to disturb him. Not you, Heather, I know you never could."
Heather had to make an effort not to feel dismissed as predictable to the point of dullness. "You're talking about Sylvie."
"Not in herself, just her showing up, but his doctor's sure it will do Lennox good to see her when he's been asking after her so much."
"Is the doctor going to tell him she's coming?"
"He thinks she may as well show up unannounced. Is she with you?"
"Yes, and wondering what we're saying about you, aren't you, Sylvie?"
Sylvia responded only by accepting the receiver. "I'm good," she told Margo, and "Like I'm back where I should never have left" and "Anxious to see him. Anxious how he'll take me..." She was continuing along these lines when Sam padded not quite evenly
"I've got out of the habit since Sam's father decided Goodmanswood was too small for him."
"Nowhere's small unless your mind is. Hasn't there been anyone since him?"
"Sam's enough of a man in my life just now."
"I can imagine. I meant share a room with me."
"I think we've outgrown that, don't you? Is there something you don't like about your room?"
"Couldn't be improved. I just don't think you can ever grow out of hearing stories in the dark."
Had she been proposing to tell Heather some, or was she nervous of being alone with them at night? Before Heather could ask, Sylvia knocked on Sam's door, provoking the kind of unwelcoming mumble Heather expected, since he had Saturday off work. Nevertheless his aunt ventured into the room, and Heather heard them murmuring. "I'll be in the bathroom," she called.
It had acquired a very few items of Sylvia's: a toothbrush, a hairbrush crested with a comb, a zippered plastic bag. Heather took her time in the shower, but when she stepped out of the bath Sam and her sister were still talking. Steam had gathered on the mirror, to reveal that someone had been sketching with a fingernail on the glass; a circle and a tree-stump or a tower.
She didn't think the artist had any future to speak of. She cleared the quarter of the mirror occupied by the sketch, and then the rest of the glass.
"I don't know about anyone else," she called as she emerged from the bathroom, "but I'm having a bite to eat."
She was halfway through a bowl of Sticky Rotters when she heard Sam's door open, and Sylvia hurried down to join her. "I couldn't persuade him to come with us," she said.
"I expect he felt you should have dad to yourself."
"You'll be there, won't you?"
"If you don't just want me to drive you and stay out of the way while you get reacquainted."
"I don't. I want you to hear everything," Sylvia said, and shook her head at an offer of breakfast. "I'll wait while you finish."
"Coffee?"
"The smell's enough to put me on edge right now," Sylvia said, demonstrating with a squeal of chair-legs on linoleum as the phone rang.
Heather leaned her chair backwards and lifted the receiver down from the wall.
"Heather Price."
"Margo of that line. How's the family now it's back together?"
"How you'd want it to be."
"So long as you do as well."
"I can't see what else I'd want, except for you to be here too."
"Me and one other," Margo said, and with a cheerfulness that sounded only slightly determined "I'm used to having my own place and my own hours that don't disturb anyone else.
It's enough to know I'm welcome when I want to be."
"You know that's whenever. Would you like a word with Sylvie?"
"I'll have one before I leave you in peace. I wanted to let you know I've been speaking to the Arbour. Lennox didn't sleep much last night, apparently. Neither did I, oddly enough.
The piece I'm working on is giving me too many ideas."
"I slept like a log myself. Like a piece of wood with no ideas."
"Well, you were always the placid one. Anyway, I wanted to find out if you were likely to disturb him. Not you, Heather, I know you never could."
Heather had to make an effort not to feel dismissed as predictable to the point of dullness. "You're talking about Sylvie."
"Not in herself, just her showing up, but his doctor's sure it will do Lennox good to see her when he's been asking after her so much."
"Is the doctor going to tell him she's coming?"
"He thinks she may as well show up unannounced. Is she with you?"
"Yes, and wondering what we're saying about you, aren't you, Sylvie?"
Sylvia responded only by accepting the receiver. "I'm good," she told Margo, and "Like I'm back where I should never have left" and "Anxious to see him. Anxious how he'll take me..." She was continuing along these lines when Sam padded not quite evenly
Similar Books
