Read Online Learning to Dance by Susan Sallis - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Susan Sallis
Ads: Link
‘Yes.’
Jack had lampooned Moss Jessup so many times: the square, jowled face had been easy to draw, and the eyebrows had been all that was necessary to identify the man.
Sybil gave an inverted grin. ‘I miss him,’ she said.
Judith swallowed again and her head thumped a warning.
‘Yes.’
‘I wondered whether I could do anything for Hausmann. But … he is his own worst enemy. The gallery owners I have contacted … they say he is too difficult.’
‘He can be difficult. Yes.’
Sven’s laugh filled a sudden gap. It seemed he and his partner had won. It was nearly ten; they moved armchairs around the television. Judith got up and made her excuses. She did not want to listen to the news; since Jack had left she had barely watched the television. Naomi would have said she was deliberately burying herself in grief; it was one of the reasons Judith had been glad of the anger that had swept over her occasionally when she had labelled Jack’s disappearance as desertion. It was different now. She climbed the stairs slowly, thankful that no one was manning the desk in the lobby. She had literally moved away from the grief and the anger; put herself into this strange Gothic place and rediscovered … what? Exactly what had she rediscovered in the thirty-six hours since leaving home? She fitted herprecious key into the lock and went into her room, flicking on lights, moving to the window, where, below, the dark sea had surrounded the castle and was massaging its walls insidiously. She watched the water for a while, wondering how long it would take to fall away from the causeway and let Hausmann back in. Whatever her rediscovery was, Hausmann was part of it. Perhaps Sybil was, too.
Somehow she managed to undress and slide into her ridiculous nightie. She was wonderfully tired and the bed was wonderfully comfortable.
She woke at two o’clock. Ack emma again. The clock was highlighted by the table lamp next to the kettle; she had forgotten to switch it off.
She would have to go to the bathroom. She put on her dressing gown this time, and pocketed the key. The landing was very dark, no wonder she had been so disoriented last night. On the way back she switched on all the lights and hung over the banister looking down into the lobby; it was of course empty.
The kettle took ages to boil and then she couldn’t find her thermos; it was still in her bag on the luggage rack just inside the bedroom door. She rinsed it, dropped in some of the instant coffee, put it into a supermarket plastic bag with a tiny tub of milk and a long stick of sugar, and took it down the stairs. She stood it on the counter, then reached behind and took out the bowl and two of the tea towels and put them next to the thermos. Then she went back to bed.
She might have heard the heavy door open and close; she might have dreamed it. But it was full daylight when she woke up, and Irena was knocking on her door with fresh tea and two unpacketed digestive biscuits.
‘Another lovely day,’ she greeted Judith with professionalcheerfulness. ‘I hope you slept well.’ She barely waited for Judith’s reply. ‘The tide is a little later today, so Mr Morris has suggested a departure time of ten thirty.’
‘Fine.’ Judith beamed at her; she was, after all, part of the rediscovery.
She said, ‘Your husband mentioned last night how supportive you are of his brother. It is so good of you. And so worthwhile. He is a genius.’
Irena was already on the landing, moving towards the lift doors. She stopped and looked round; her expression was one of complete astonishment.
‘Do you think so? I am – was – a great admirer of your husband’s work, Mrs Freeman. Your opinion means a great deal … Thank you.’
Judith closed the door, put down the tray and nibbled at one of the biscuits. She had never actually said she was widowed, had she? Surely Jack’s daily comic strip was still in the Magnet ? He had always called it their bread and butter. If
Jack had lampooned Moss Jessup so many times: the square, jowled face had been easy to draw, and the eyebrows had been all that was necessary to identify the man.
Sybil gave an inverted grin. ‘I miss him,’ she said.
Judith swallowed again and her head thumped a warning.
‘Yes.’
‘I wondered whether I could do anything for Hausmann. But … he is his own worst enemy. The gallery owners I have contacted … they say he is too difficult.’
‘He can be difficult. Yes.’
Sven’s laugh filled a sudden gap. It seemed he and his partner had won. It was nearly ten; they moved armchairs around the television. Judith got up and made her excuses. She did not want to listen to the news; since Jack had left she had barely watched the television. Naomi would have said she was deliberately burying herself in grief; it was one of the reasons Judith had been glad of the anger that had swept over her occasionally when she had labelled Jack’s disappearance as desertion. It was different now. She climbed the stairs slowly, thankful that no one was manning the desk in the lobby. She had literally moved away from the grief and the anger; put herself into this strange Gothic place and rediscovered … what? Exactly what had she rediscovered in the thirty-six hours since leaving home? She fitted herprecious key into the lock and went into her room, flicking on lights, moving to the window, where, below, the dark sea had surrounded the castle and was massaging its walls insidiously. She watched the water for a while, wondering how long it would take to fall away from the causeway and let Hausmann back in. Whatever her rediscovery was, Hausmann was part of it. Perhaps Sybil was, too.
Somehow she managed to undress and slide into her ridiculous nightie. She was wonderfully tired and the bed was wonderfully comfortable.
She woke at two o’clock. Ack emma again. The clock was highlighted by the table lamp next to the kettle; she had forgotten to switch it off.
She would have to go to the bathroom. She put on her dressing gown this time, and pocketed the key. The landing was very dark, no wonder she had been so disoriented last night. On the way back she switched on all the lights and hung over the banister looking down into the lobby; it was of course empty.
The kettle took ages to boil and then she couldn’t find her thermos; it was still in her bag on the luggage rack just inside the bedroom door. She rinsed it, dropped in some of the instant coffee, put it into a supermarket plastic bag with a tiny tub of milk and a long stick of sugar, and took it down the stairs. She stood it on the counter, then reached behind and took out the bowl and two of the tea towels and put them next to the thermos. Then she went back to bed.
She might have heard the heavy door open and close; she might have dreamed it. But it was full daylight when she woke up, and Irena was knocking on her door with fresh tea and two unpacketed digestive biscuits.
‘Another lovely day,’ she greeted Judith with professionalcheerfulness. ‘I hope you slept well.’ She barely waited for Judith’s reply. ‘The tide is a little later today, so Mr Morris has suggested a departure time of ten thirty.’
‘Fine.’ Judith beamed at her; she was, after all, part of the rediscovery.
She said, ‘Your husband mentioned last night how supportive you are of his brother. It is so good of you. And so worthwhile. He is a genius.’
Irena was already on the landing, moving towards the lift doors. She stopped and looked round; her expression was one of complete astonishment.
‘Do you think so? I am – was – a great admirer of your husband’s work, Mrs Freeman. Your opinion means a great deal … Thank you.’
Judith closed the door, put down the tray and nibbled at one of the biscuits. She had never actually said she was widowed, had she? Surely Jack’s daily comic strip was still in the Magnet ? He had always called it their bread and butter. If
Similar Books
