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

disability, might give him a reason for going on and pulling through and eventually enjoying life again. I did not know. He did not mention Roger at all, it was only Beatrice he thought of and wanted tonight.
    I have no idea how long we sat there together; I cried a little but Giles did not stop, even when he was talking, he cried, and did not try to restrain or control it, and although at first it had so embarrassed me, after a while, I came to
     
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    respect him for it and to be moved, because of the depth of his devotion to Beatrice and his grief, and also because he felt close enough to me to be able to weep so, in front of me.
    Twice, at least, I asked if he wanted me to get him tea, or brandy, but he refused and so we just sat on, among the mess of clothes, in the bedroom that grew cold, as the night drew on.
    And then, as though he were coming to out of some sort of fit or trance over which he had had no control, he looked round the room, almost in bewilderment, as if uncertain how we both came to be there, and found a handkerchief from somewhere, and blew his nose several times with great, trumpeting noises.
    ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Sorry, old thing, only I needed to be here — couldn’t have done without it.’
    ‘I know Giles. It’s perfectly all right. I understand.’ I stood up, and said, rather lamely, ‘I was very fond of Beatrice too, you know.’
    ‘Everybody was. Everybody. All those people, those friends.’ He wiped his eyes, and then, looking up, said, ‘She never had an enemy in the world you know. Apart from Rebecca …’
    I stared at him stupidly, for somehow I had never expected to hear the name again, it sounded odd, like a word in another language. Rebecca. A word from another life. We never spoke it. I do not think it had crossed either of our lips since that terrible night.
    For a few seconds in the quiet room, it was as though some beast I had thought long, long dead, had stirred faintly,
     
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    warningly, and growled, and the sound struck fear in me, but then it was silent and still again and the fear was only the faintest echo of an old fear, like the memory of a pain long past, I did not so much feel it as recall that I had once done so.
    ‘Sorry,’ Giles said again, ‘sorry, old thing.’
    But whether it was for mentioning Rebecca’s name, or his keeping me up with him while he was so distressed, I could not tell.
    ‘Giles, I think I should go back to bed, I’m really dreadfully tired, and Maxim may have woken and wondered where I am.’
    Tes, of course, you go. Good Lord, it’s half past four. Sorry … I’m sorry …’
    ‘No, it’s fine, don’t be sorry. Really.’
    When I reached the door, he said, ‘I wish you’d come back now.’
    I hesitated.
    ‘Old Julyan was right, and Beatrice was always saying so. Damn silly, she said, them staying away this long, when there’s no need.’
    ‘But we had — have to — Giles, I don’t think Maxim could have borne to come home — when — when — there wasn’t Manderley any longer - and oh, everything…’
    ‘You could buy another place — come here — there’s enough room here - no, no, but you wouldn’t want that. I wish she’d seen old Maxim before — she wasn’t one to talk about feelings, but she missed him - all through the war - didn’t often say it but I knew. I wish she’d seen him again.’
    ‘Yes,’ I said. “Yes. I’m very sorry.’
     
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    He was staring down at the peach satin robe that he still had clutched in his hand. I said, ‘Giles, I’ll come and help put all this away in the morning — just leave it now. I think you ought to try and get some sleep.’
    He looked at me vaguely, then down again at the robe. ‘It wasn’t her usual thing, she didn’t go in for silks and satins and that sort of stuff, more for sensible sort of things.’ He was staring and staring at the shiny, slippery material. ‘I think Rebecca must have given it to her.’
    And, as he spoke, a terrible, vivid