Read Online Silent Children by Ramsey Campbell - Free Book Online
Authors: Ramsey Campbell
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you."
"How surprising," the man said, redder-faced than ever, and held off letting himself out of the shop until he'd prepared an exit line. "Country and western," he protested, baring his teeth at the music, "even worse than jazz." With that he tramped off towards Tottenham Court Road, and Leslie and Melinda gave each other a look that might have led to mirth if the American hadn't broken the silence. "Sorry if I was the cause of that somehow."
"Whatever makes you say that?" said Melinda.
"It seemed like it might be the thing to do."
Leslie was taking in his appearance: grey eyes that looked eager for the unexpected, wide lips poised to smile, long nose that turned up at the end as if to deny some cliché about itself, broad face nearly as right-angled as the red crew cut on top. "I hope we didn't make you feel that way," she said.
"You make me feel just fine."
The women shared a pause before Melinda lifted one eyebrow. "Is that the kind of thing people say in your books?"
"Some do, sure enough."
"And can we ask what becomes of them?"
"Some of them make out okay."
"I can see how they might," Melinda said with the faintest hint of censure, then relented. "Are you here working on a new book?"
"Researching one."
"You'd rather not say any more about it at this stage," Leslie guessed.
"Talk about it too soon and the chances are you never write it," he said, and looked impressed with her perceptiveness.
"Will you tell us your name at least," Melinda said, "in case we've heard of you?"
"I don't believe you will have. Jack Lamb."
"Do you know, I think that does ring some sort of bell. I could almost swear I've seen it on a cover or two recently."
"They'd have to be imported. I'm only published in the States."
"Then maybe we'll see you in print here soon. Leslie, save me from making more of a fool of myself in front of our delightful customer."
"I just wanted to say, Mr. Lamb, that if our window enticed you in we should apologise for everything you had to put up with."
"Your window did, ma'am, but you haven't a thing to apologise for, either of you."
"If you say so. I mean, good, thanks. Is American music your territory?"
"Some. Stuff people like who aren't as expert as you two have to be."
"So what were you looking at before?" Melinda said.
"I don't honestly remember, except trying gave me a headache."
"But you say our window brought you in."
"The notice about the room to let did. I was going to inquire when you started talking about that guy who came in. Would it still be available?"
"Couldn't be more so," Leslie told him. "You're the first to ask."
"You're kidding," he said, so surprised that she couldn't help taking it as a compliment. "I guess you've only just advertised it."
"For most of a fortnight."
"Maybe I'm plain lucky. Would you say it was quiet enough to write in?"
"It certainly is when my son's at school, and if you need it to be when he's there he'll have to use his headphones."
"It's a room in your house."
"A big bedroom, that's right." His gaze was lingering on her, and she felt absurdly in danger of blushing. "There's plenty of space for a desk if you need it," she said.
"Would it be okay for me to view it soon?"
"Perhaps I should tell you about the house first."
"Why don't you do that when I've seen it and got the feel of it. I like to keep my first impressions innocent. Comes with the job."
"Nothing wrong with a bit of innocence now and then, is there, Leslie? You could take Mr. Lamb now if you want and I'll lock up."
No glance at Melinda was needed to confirm she was hoping Leslie might acquire more than just a lodger. When Leslie thanked her, Melinda had the grace to keep her astuteness out of her smile, but there was no mistaking what she continued to think. "See you tomorrow," Leslie said firmly enough, she hoped, to put paid to any misplaced romantic notions. Right now it was sufficient that, as she emerged into the crowd with her new acquaintance, whom she didn't think
"How surprising," the man said, redder-faced than ever, and held off letting himself out of the shop until he'd prepared an exit line. "Country and western," he protested, baring his teeth at the music, "even worse than jazz." With that he tramped off towards Tottenham Court Road, and Leslie and Melinda gave each other a look that might have led to mirth if the American hadn't broken the silence. "Sorry if I was the cause of that somehow."
"Whatever makes you say that?" said Melinda.
"It seemed like it might be the thing to do."
Leslie was taking in his appearance: grey eyes that looked eager for the unexpected, wide lips poised to smile, long nose that turned up at the end as if to deny some cliché about itself, broad face nearly as right-angled as the red crew cut on top. "I hope we didn't make you feel that way," she said.
"You make me feel just fine."
The women shared a pause before Melinda lifted one eyebrow. "Is that the kind of thing people say in your books?"
"Some do, sure enough."
"And can we ask what becomes of them?"
"Some of them make out okay."
"I can see how they might," Melinda said with the faintest hint of censure, then relented. "Are you here working on a new book?"
"Researching one."
"You'd rather not say any more about it at this stage," Leslie guessed.
"Talk about it too soon and the chances are you never write it," he said, and looked impressed with her perceptiveness.
"Will you tell us your name at least," Melinda said, "in case we've heard of you?"
"I don't believe you will have. Jack Lamb."
"Do you know, I think that does ring some sort of bell. I could almost swear I've seen it on a cover or two recently."
"They'd have to be imported. I'm only published in the States."
"Then maybe we'll see you in print here soon. Leslie, save me from making more of a fool of myself in front of our delightful customer."
"I just wanted to say, Mr. Lamb, that if our window enticed you in we should apologise for everything you had to put up with."
"Your window did, ma'am, but you haven't a thing to apologise for, either of you."
"If you say so. I mean, good, thanks. Is American music your territory?"
"Some. Stuff people like who aren't as expert as you two have to be."
"So what were you looking at before?" Melinda said.
"I don't honestly remember, except trying gave me a headache."
"But you say our window brought you in."
"The notice about the room to let did. I was going to inquire when you started talking about that guy who came in. Would it still be available?"
"Couldn't be more so," Leslie told him. "You're the first to ask."
"You're kidding," he said, so surprised that she couldn't help taking it as a compliment. "I guess you've only just advertised it."
"For most of a fortnight."
"Maybe I'm plain lucky. Would you say it was quiet enough to write in?"
"It certainly is when my son's at school, and if you need it to be when he's there he'll have to use his headphones."
"It's a room in your house."
"A big bedroom, that's right." His gaze was lingering on her, and she felt absurdly in danger of blushing. "There's plenty of space for a desk if you need it," she said.
"Would it be okay for me to view it soon?"
"Perhaps I should tell you about the house first."
"Why don't you do that when I've seen it and got the feel of it. I like to keep my first impressions innocent. Comes with the job."
"Nothing wrong with a bit of innocence now and then, is there, Leslie? You could take Mr. Lamb now if you want and I'll lock up."
No glance at Melinda was needed to confirm she was hoping Leslie might acquire more than just a lodger. When Leslie thanked her, Melinda had the grace to keep her astuteness out of her smile, but there was no mistaking what she continued to think. "See you tomorrow," Leslie said firmly enough, she hoped, to put paid to any misplaced romantic notions. Right now it was sufficient that, as she emerged into the crowd with her new acquaintance, whom she didn't think
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