Read Online Mrs De Winter by Susan Hill - Free Book Online

swollen and reddened and welling over with tears. There were tears on his face, streaking through the blue shadows of beard, I could not only see and hear, I could almost smell and feel his misery, the depth of his helpless grief.
    He did not say anything, only stared at me, like a child, and then began to sob again, his shoulders heaving, not making any effort at all to stop, he held the peach wrap to his face and cried into it, and wiped his eyes with it, and took in occasional great gulps of air like someone drowning. It was horrible. I was appalled at him, and appalled at myself, too, for the way his abandoned grief repelled me. I was so used to Maxim, he was the only man I had ever known at all, and Maxim had never cried, never once, it was unimaginable. I did not think he could have cried since the age of three or four. When he felt deeply, it showed in his face, he became very pale and his skin tightened, his eyes went hard, or else a shadow would somehow fall, but his self control was otherwise absolute. I did not dare think how he would have responded to Giles now.
    In the end, I closed the door and went and sat on the edge of the bed, nearer to him, and for a long time was simply there, silent, miserable, huddled into my dressing-gown, as Giles sobbed, and after a while something inside me, some pride or reserve, simply broke down and I did not mind any more, instead it seemed right that he should be allowed to give way to his feelings like this, and that I should simply be there, to let him, and for company.
    What am I going to do?’ he said once, and then again, looking up at me and yet, I thought, not really speaking to me or wanting an answer. “What am I going to do without
     
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    her? She has been my whole life for thirty-seven years. Do you know where we met? Did she ever tell you? I fell off my horse and she came up and got me back on again, and led us home — I’d broken my wrist — she simply took off a belt or a scarf or some such and led my horse with hers and it was a difficult beggar, and it went as quiet as a little child’s pony, had it eating out of her hand. I ought to have felt such a bloody fool - I’m damned sure I looked one, but somehow I didn’t, I didn’t mind at all, she had that effect on me straight off — I never cared less about anything at all with Bea, relied on her, you know, totally, for everything. I mean, she was boss, she saw to things — well, of course, you knew that. I’d never amounted to much, never would have done, though I was quite all right, only somehow or other Bea made it all work and set me on my feet and after that, I was right as rain, not a care in the world, happy as Larry
    —it’s very hard to explain.’
    He was looking at me now, his eyes searching my face, for - what? Reassurance? Approval? I did not know. He was like an old lap-dog, rheumy-eyed.
    ‘I know,’ I said. ‘I always saw how happy you were
    —how well you were suited. It was — well, everyone saw it.’
    ‘Did they?’ His face lit up suddenly, with a pathetic, sloppy sort of eagerness.
    ‘Of course,’ I said uselessly. ‘Of course they did.’
    ‘Everyone loved her, they all admired her, she never
    made an enemy, for all her sharp tongue - but she could
    say what she thought, give someone a piece of her mind,
    and then that would be that, forgiven and forgotten — she
     
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    had so many friends, you know — all those people today, all those people at the funeral — did you see them all?’
    ‘Yes, yes, Giles, I saw them - I was very touched it must have been such a help to you.’
    ‘A help?’ He looked round the room suddenly, desperately, almost as though he had forgotten for a moment where he was, and then at me, and his eyes did not take me in either.
    ‘A help,’ he said dully.
    ‘Yes, that so many people who had been fond of Beatrice were there.’
    ‘Yes, but there is no help,’ he said, quite simply, almost as if he were explaining something to a