Read Online I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Dodie Smith
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look at the fireplace wall, but just then Thomas came out on the staircase.
The men explained that they had turned down our lane by accident and their car was stuck in the mud. They wanted help to get it out.
“Or, if we have to leave it there all night, we felt we’d better warn you,” said the American voice, “because it’s blocking the lane.”
Thomas said he would come and have a look and I heard him getting his boots from the wash-house.
“Wonderful old place you have here,” said the unusual voice, and I feared they might ask to look round. But the other man began talking about how stuck the car was and asking if we had horses to pull it out, and in a minute or so Thomas went off with them. I heard the door slam and heaved a sigh of relief.
But I did feel a little flat; it was dull to think I had never even seen the men and never would. I tried to imagine faces to go with the voices—then suddenly realized that the water was cooling and I had barely begun washing. I got to work at last, but scrub as I might, I couldn’t make any impression on my green-dyed arms. I am a thorough washer and by the time I had finished, my mind was completely off the men. I hopped out and got another can hot water from the copper, which is close to the fire, and was just settling down to read when I heard the door open again.
Someone came into the kitchen and I was sure it wasn’t any of the family—they would have called out to me or at least made a lot more noise. I could feel someone just standing and staring. After a moment I couldn’t bear it any longer so I yelled out:
“Whoever you are, I warn you I’m in the bath here.”
“Good heavens, I do beg your pardon,” said the man with the quiet voice.
“Were you there when we came in a few minutes ago?”
I told him I had been, and asked if the car was still stuck.
“They’ve gone for horses to pull it out,” he said, “so I sneaked back to have a look round here. I’ve never seen anything like this place.”
“Just let me get dried and in my right mind and I’ll show you round,” I said. I had mopped my face and neck on the drying sheets and still hadn’t taken the cold walk to find the towel.
I asked him if he could see it anywhere but he didn’t seem able to, so I knelt in the bath, parted the green sheets and put my head through.
He turned towards me. Seldom have I felt more astonished.
He had a black beard.
I have never known anyone with a beard except an old man in the Scoatney almshouses who looks like Santa Claus. This beard wasn’t like that; it was trim and pointed—rather Elizabethan. But it was very surprising because his voice had sounded quite young.
“How do you do?” he said, smiling-and I could tell by his tone that he had taken me for a child. He found my towel and started to bring it over; then stopped and said: “There’s no need to look so scared. I’ll put it down where you can reach it, and go right back to the yard.”
“I’m not scared,” I said, “but you don’t look the way you sound.”
He laughed, but it struck me that it had been rather a rude thing to say, so I added hastily: “There’s no need to go, of course. Won’t you sit down his I’m sure I’ve no desire to appear inhospitable”—and that struck me as the most pompous speech of my life.
I began to put one arm through the sheets for the towel.
“There’ll be a catastrophe if you do it that way,” he said.
“I’ll put it round the corner.”
As I drew my head in I saw his hand coming round.
I grabbed the towel from it and was just going to ask him to bring my clothes, too, when the door opened again.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere, Simon,” said the American voice.
“This is the darnedest placeI’ve just seen a Spook” “Nonsense,” said the bearded man.
“Honest, I have—while I was in the lane. I shone my flashlight up at that tower on the hill and a white figure flitted behind it.”
“Probably a
The men explained that they had turned down our lane by accident and their car was stuck in the mud. They wanted help to get it out.
“Or, if we have to leave it there all night, we felt we’d better warn you,” said the American voice, “because it’s blocking the lane.”
Thomas said he would come and have a look and I heard him getting his boots from the wash-house.
“Wonderful old place you have here,” said the unusual voice, and I feared they might ask to look round. But the other man began talking about how stuck the car was and asking if we had horses to pull it out, and in a minute or so Thomas went off with them. I heard the door slam and heaved a sigh of relief.
But I did feel a little flat; it was dull to think I had never even seen the men and never would. I tried to imagine faces to go with the voices—then suddenly realized that the water was cooling and I had barely begun washing. I got to work at last, but scrub as I might, I couldn’t make any impression on my green-dyed arms. I am a thorough washer and by the time I had finished, my mind was completely off the men. I hopped out and got another can hot water from the copper, which is close to the fire, and was just settling down to read when I heard the door open again.
Someone came into the kitchen and I was sure it wasn’t any of the family—they would have called out to me or at least made a lot more noise. I could feel someone just standing and staring. After a moment I couldn’t bear it any longer so I yelled out:
“Whoever you are, I warn you I’m in the bath here.”
“Good heavens, I do beg your pardon,” said the man with the quiet voice.
“Were you there when we came in a few minutes ago?”
I told him I had been, and asked if the car was still stuck.
“They’ve gone for horses to pull it out,” he said, “so I sneaked back to have a look round here. I’ve never seen anything like this place.”
“Just let me get dried and in my right mind and I’ll show you round,” I said. I had mopped my face and neck on the drying sheets and still hadn’t taken the cold walk to find the towel.
I asked him if he could see it anywhere but he didn’t seem able to, so I knelt in the bath, parted the green sheets and put my head through.
He turned towards me. Seldom have I felt more astonished.
He had a black beard.
I have never known anyone with a beard except an old man in the Scoatney almshouses who looks like Santa Claus. This beard wasn’t like that; it was trim and pointed—rather Elizabethan. But it was very surprising because his voice had sounded quite young.
“How do you do?” he said, smiling-and I could tell by his tone that he had taken me for a child. He found my towel and started to bring it over; then stopped and said: “There’s no need to look so scared. I’ll put it down where you can reach it, and go right back to the yard.”
“I’m not scared,” I said, “but you don’t look the way you sound.”
He laughed, but it struck me that it had been rather a rude thing to say, so I added hastily: “There’s no need to go, of course. Won’t you sit down his I’m sure I’ve no desire to appear inhospitable”—and that struck me as the most pompous speech of my life.
I began to put one arm through the sheets for the towel.
“There’ll be a catastrophe if you do it that way,” he said.
“I’ll put it round the corner.”
As I drew my head in I saw his hand coming round.
I grabbed the towel from it and was just going to ask him to bring my clothes, too, when the door opened again.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere, Simon,” said the American voice.
“This is the darnedest placeI’ve just seen a Spook” “Nonsense,” said the bearded man.
“Honest, I have—while I was in the lane. I shone my flashlight up at that tower on the hill and a white figure flitted behind it.”
“Probably a
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