Read Online The Comfort of Strangers by Ian McEwan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ian McEwan
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quiet sort of person.’
Colin tried to rearrange his towel across his lap. ‘You heard of me before then?’
‘Caroline came in and watched us while we were asleep,’ Mary explained, her tone carefully level.
‘Are you an American?’ Colin inquired politely.
‘Canadian, please.’
Colin nodded briskly, as though the difference was significant.
Caroline suppressed a giggle, and held up a small key. ‘Robert is very keen for you to stop and have dinner with us. He told me not to let you have your clothes until you’d agreed.’ Colin laughed politely and Mary stared while Caroline swung the key between her forefinger and thumb. ‘Well, I’m very hungry,’ Colin said, looking at Mary who said to Caroline, ‘I prefer to have my clothes first, and then decide.’
‘That’s exactly what I think, but Robert insisted.’ She became suddenly serious and, leaning forward, placed her hand on Mary’s arm. ‘Please say you’ll stay. We get so few visitors.’ She was pleading with them, her eyes moving between Colin’s face and Mary’s. ‘I’d be so happy if you said yes. We eat very well here, I promise you.’ And then sheadded, ‘If you don’t stay Robert will blame me. Please say yes.’
‘Come on, Mary,’ Colin said. ‘Let’s stay.’
‘Please!’ There was ferocity in Caroline’s voice. Mary looked up startled and the two women stared across the table at each other. Mary nodded, and Caroline, exclaiming with delight, tossed the key to her.
6
T HE FURTHEST STARS of the Milky Way were visible, not as a scattering of fine dust, but as distinct points of light which made the brighter constellations appear uncomfortably close. The very darkness was tangible, warm and cloying. Mary clasped her hands behind her head and watched the sky, and Caroline sat forward eagerly, her gaze moving proudly between Mary’s face and the heavens, as though she were personally responsible for their grandeur. ‘I spend hours out here.’ She seemed to wheedle for praise, but Mary did not even blink.
Colin took the key from the table and stood up. ‘I’d feel better’, he said, ‘if I was wearing more than this.’ He gathered up the little towel where it had exposed his thigh.
When he had gone Caroline said, ‘Isn’t it sweet, when men are shy?’
Mary remarked on the clarity of the stars, on how rarely one saw a night sky from a city. Her tone was deliberate and even.
Caroline sat still, appearing to wait for the last echoes of small talk to fade completely before saying, ‘How long have you known Colin?’
‘Seven years,’ Mary said, and without turning towards Caroline, went on to describe how her children, whose sexes, ages and names she explained in rapid parentheses, were both fascinated by stars, how they could name over a dozen constellations while she could name only one, Orion, whose giant form now straddled the sky before them, his sheathed sword as bright as his far-flung limbs.
Caroline glanced briefly at that portion of sky, and placedher hand on Mary’s wrist and said, ‘You make a very striking pair, if you don’t mind me saying. Both so finely built, almost like twins. Robert says you aren’t married. Do you live together then?’
Mary folded her arms and looked at Caroline at last. ‘No, we don’t.’
Caroline had withdrawn her hand and stared at where it lay in her lap as though it were no longer her own. Her small face, made so geometrically oval by the surrounding darkness and the arrangement of her drawn-back hair, was featureless in its regularity, innocent of expression, without age. Her eyes, nose, mouth, skin, all might have been designed in committee to meet the barest requirements of feasibility. Her mouth, for example, was no more than the word suggested, a moving, lipped slit beneath her nose. She glanced up from her lap and found herself staring into Mary’s eyes; she let her gaze fall instantly to the ground between them and continued her questions as before.
Colin tried to rearrange his towel across his lap. ‘You heard of me before then?’
‘Caroline came in and watched us while we were asleep,’ Mary explained, her tone carefully level.
‘Are you an American?’ Colin inquired politely.
‘Canadian, please.’
Colin nodded briskly, as though the difference was significant.
Caroline suppressed a giggle, and held up a small key. ‘Robert is very keen for you to stop and have dinner with us. He told me not to let you have your clothes until you’d agreed.’ Colin laughed politely and Mary stared while Caroline swung the key between her forefinger and thumb. ‘Well, I’m very hungry,’ Colin said, looking at Mary who said to Caroline, ‘I prefer to have my clothes first, and then decide.’
‘That’s exactly what I think, but Robert insisted.’ She became suddenly serious and, leaning forward, placed her hand on Mary’s arm. ‘Please say you’ll stay. We get so few visitors.’ She was pleading with them, her eyes moving between Colin’s face and Mary’s. ‘I’d be so happy if you said yes. We eat very well here, I promise you.’ And then sheadded, ‘If you don’t stay Robert will blame me. Please say yes.’
‘Come on, Mary,’ Colin said. ‘Let’s stay.’
‘Please!’ There was ferocity in Caroline’s voice. Mary looked up startled and the two women stared across the table at each other. Mary nodded, and Caroline, exclaiming with delight, tossed the key to her.
6
T HE FURTHEST STARS of the Milky Way were visible, not as a scattering of fine dust, but as distinct points of light which made the brighter constellations appear uncomfortably close. The very darkness was tangible, warm and cloying. Mary clasped her hands behind her head and watched the sky, and Caroline sat forward eagerly, her gaze moving proudly between Mary’s face and the heavens, as though she were personally responsible for their grandeur. ‘I spend hours out here.’ She seemed to wheedle for praise, but Mary did not even blink.
Colin took the key from the table and stood up. ‘I’d feel better’, he said, ‘if I was wearing more than this.’ He gathered up the little towel where it had exposed his thigh.
When he had gone Caroline said, ‘Isn’t it sweet, when men are shy?’
Mary remarked on the clarity of the stars, on how rarely one saw a night sky from a city. Her tone was deliberate and even.
Caroline sat still, appearing to wait for the last echoes of small talk to fade completely before saying, ‘How long have you known Colin?’
‘Seven years,’ Mary said, and without turning towards Caroline, went on to describe how her children, whose sexes, ages and names she explained in rapid parentheses, were both fascinated by stars, how they could name over a dozen constellations while she could name only one, Orion, whose giant form now straddled the sky before them, his sheathed sword as bright as his far-flung limbs.
Caroline glanced briefly at that portion of sky, and placedher hand on Mary’s wrist and said, ‘You make a very striking pair, if you don’t mind me saying. Both so finely built, almost like twins. Robert says you aren’t married. Do you live together then?’
Mary folded her arms and looked at Caroline at last. ‘No, we don’t.’
Caroline had withdrawn her hand and stared at where it lay in her lap as though it were no longer her own. Her small face, made so geometrically oval by the surrounding darkness and the arrangement of her drawn-back hair, was featureless in its regularity, innocent of expression, without age. Her eyes, nose, mouth, skin, all might have been designed in committee to meet the barest requirements of feasibility. Her mouth, for example, was no more than the word suggested, a moving, lipped slit beneath her nose. She glanced up from her lap and found herself staring into Mary’s eyes; she let her gaze fall instantly to the ground between them and continued her questions as before.
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