Read Online So Disdained by Nevil Shute - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Nevil Shute
Tags: General Fiction
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else to do, I sat down again at the piano.
The morning was coming up all sunny and bright. It must have been chilly at the piano, for the window was open beside [Pg 44] me, but I didn't seem to notice it. I had arranged that corner of the garden to have a fine show of daffodils that spring; it was a wild part where the family didn't come much. I could see them just beginning to poke up through the grass. There were primroses there—buckets of them—and a few snowdrops. I sat there looking at them for a bit, half-asleep; through the trees in winter you can see the grey whaleback of the down as it sweeps up above the house and the village.
I was sick of my own work. I strummed a bar or two, and played Chopin for a little, till I grew tired of him. I sat there for a bit then, and thought I'd better get out into the yard and start up my car. I had that aeroplane to hide. But I sat there for a little longer before moving, and presently I found myself rippling through the Spring Song . It was the cold that started me off on that, I suppose. That, and the flowers.
I must have become engrossed in it again. I know I ran through it several times quite softly, rippling through it and wondering if I should ever write anything myself one-tenth so good. It should be played lightly, that thing. Very lightly, and a little staccato. I don't know for how long I went on playing. It may have been for ten minutes or a quarter of an hour, till some slight sound made me turn my head. Lenden was standing in the doorway in my pyjamas, his hand resting on the jamb to steady him, his face dead white.
I dropped my hands from the keys. "Better get along back to bed," I said. "You've got the hell of a temperature."
He moistened his lips. "For Christ's sake, stop playing that infernal thing. I can't stick it any longer."
I stared at him, puzzled. "Why not? What's the matter?"
He avoided my eyes. "I thought you might be doing it on purpose," he said uncertainly. "If you weren't. . . . The way you went on and on."
I smiled, got up from the piano, and crossed the room to him. "As for you," I said, "you're bats—that's what's the matter with you. You're imagining things. I'm going out now to hide that aeroplane of yours where it won't be seen from the road, before anyone else gets to know about it. You're going to go [Pg 45] back to bed and go to sleep, pretty damn quick."
He turned from the door. "All right," he said wearily.
"I'll have some breakfast sent over for you about ten o'clock. Bit of fish, or something."
I paused. "And don't be a ruddy fool."
----
[Pg 46]
CHAPTER TWO
I went out into the yard to start up the car. It was very fresh and cold outside; I left the engine to run warm while I went back into the house for a coat.
Then I got going on the road for the downs. The wind and the rain of the night had gone completely and left only a thin mist about the hedges in the rising sun. I passed through the main street of Under and let the car rip along the road for Leventer.
I saw the machine when I was a mile away. There she was, stuck right up on top of the down, insecurely tethered and swaying a little in the light wind. She was a landmark for miles around. I stopped the car near to where I had picked up Lenden and began to walk across the down towards her, hoping most earnestly that no one else had passed that way since dawn. It wasn't very likely.
There was a barn in the hollow of the down below the machine, about half a mile distant from her in the opposite direction to the road. I passed her without stopping, and went on down the hill. I thought it might be possible to get her down the slopes and tether her behind the barn. She would be out of sight of the road there, and as secret as it was possible to make her, short of dismantling her altogether. I realised, as I walked, that it might come to that in time. If she was to be disposed of secretly, the only way would be to take her to bits and burn her piecemeal.
The slopes were
The morning was coming up all sunny and bright. It must have been chilly at the piano, for the window was open beside [Pg 44] me, but I didn't seem to notice it. I had arranged that corner of the garden to have a fine show of daffodils that spring; it was a wild part where the family didn't come much. I could see them just beginning to poke up through the grass. There were primroses there—buckets of them—and a few snowdrops. I sat there looking at them for a bit, half-asleep; through the trees in winter you can see the grey whaleback of the down as it sweeps up above the house and the village.
I was sick of my own work. I strummed a bar or two, and played Chopin for a little, till I grew tired of him. I sat there for a bit then, and thought I'd better get out into the yard and start up my car. I had that aeroplane to hide. But I sat there for a little longer before moving, and presently I found myself rippling through the Spring Song . It was the cold that started me off on that, I suppose. That, and the flowers.
I must have become engrossed in it again. I know I ran through it several times quite softly, rippling through it and wondering if I should ever write anything myself one-tenth so good. It should be played lightly, that thing. Very lightly, and a little staccato. I don't know for how long I went on playing. It may have been for ten minutes or a quarter of an hour, till some slight sound made me turn my head. Lenden was standing in the doorway in my pyjamas, his hand resting on the jamb to steady him, his face dead white.
I dropped my hands from the keys. "Better get along back to bed," I said. "You've got the hell of a temperature."
He moistened his lips. "For Christ's sake, stop playing that infernal thing. I can't stick it any longer."
I stared at him, puzzled. "Why not? What's the matter?"
He avoided my eyes. "I thought you might be doing it on purpose," he said uncertainly. "If you weren't. . . . The way you went on and on."
I smiled, got up from the piano, and crossed the room to him. "As for you," I said, "you're bats—that's what's the matter with you. You're imagining things. I'm going out now to hide that aeroplane of yours where it won't be seen from the road, before anyone else gets to know about it. You're going to go [Pg 45] back to bed and go to sleep, pretty damn quick."
He turned from the door. "All right," he said wearily.
"I'll have some breakfast sent over for you about ten o'clock. Bit of fish, or something."
I paused. "And don't be a ruddy fool."
----
[Pg 46]
CHAPTER TWO
I went out into the yard to start up the car. It was very fresh and cold outside; I left the engine to run warm while I went back into the house for a coat.
Then I got going on the road for the downs. The wind and the rain of the night had gone completely and left only a thin mist about the hedges in the rising sun. I passed through the main street of Under and let the car rip along the road for Leventer.
I saw the machine when I was a mile away. There she was, stuck right up on top of the down, insecurely tethered and swaying a little in the light wind. She was a landmark for miles around. I stopped the car near to where I had picked up Lenden and began to walk across the down towards her, hoping most earnestly that no one else had passed that way since dawn. It wasn't very likely.
There was a barn in the hollow of the down below the machine, about half a mile distant from her in the opposite direction to the road. I passed her without stopping, and went on down the hill. I thought it might be possible to get her down the slopes and tether her behind the barn. She would be out of sight of the road there, and as secret as it was possible to make her, short of dismantling her altogether. I realised, as I walked, that it might come to that in time. If she was to be disposed of secretly, the only way would be to take her to bits and burn her piecemeal.
The slopes were
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