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Authors: Margery Sharp
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She was worried about her hair, which had not set as well as usual, and also about the Czech pianist, whom she had met in New York and who she feared might have forgotten her. Once on the road, however, her humour improved; she made no objection to stopping for a drink; and all the way down, with her head screwed down and her chin on Hugoâs shoulder, she gave Lesley advice.
âThe one thing thatâs really important, darling, is not to know any one. Then you can do just as you like and shock the whole village. Weâll all come down and help. And be specially careful about the Vicar, darling, and that new kind of ratâthe one that was imported and then began to burrow. Donât you feel excited, darling, starting on your new life?â
âTerrifically,â said Lesley.
As well as she could in her rather coquettish position, Elissa suddenly looked intense.
âItâs like a new incarnation,â she pointed out. âA new incarnation, goingââ The car swerved violently, and also gave her an instant to think. The country and hard labourâwas that up and up, or down and down? She compromised. ââ Round and round. Youâll probably change enormously, one way or the other. Only do be careful of your figure, because thatâs always where the country tells first. Exercises, darlingâdo lots of exercises on a wooden floor.â¦â
In the back of the car, however, her friend repaid her with little attention. Lesley disliked inefficiency, and she disliked being made to wait: they had stopped twice already for a drink, and the daylight was steadily waning. She said,
âWhat time is your party, Elissa?â
The word, as always, produced an instant reaction: from Wendover onwards the hedges began to flash. The cars they overtook stood still, the cars they met exceeded the speed limit. Every few minutes Pat bumped over sideways and hit himself on the basket. He was three parts asleep and so fairly well armoured; but with every fresh collision Lesley half expected tears. He did not habitually weep, but nor for that matter did she; and it was from her own sensations, as they at last turned up the lane, that she gathered the clue to his.
âHere you are, darling! How delicious it looks!â cried Elissa gaily. Out went the suitcases, out went Pat, out went the basket of food. âAnd now for Godâs sake get a move on, Hugo, or I shanât have time to dress.â
3
For a minute or two longer Lesley stood just as they had left her, motionless among the packages, young Patrick pressed close to the folds of her coat. The air felt fresh, and colder than the air of London: it was so quiet that she could quite easily follow the first mile or two of the Minervaâs progress.
When the last throb had died away, leaving all still again, she took out the big key and pushed it into the lock.
âI donât like this place,â said Patrick suddenly.
From the sound of his voice she knew the tears to be near: but no impulse to console awoke in her, only a faint shiver of revulsion. A crying child, a dark house.â¦
âI donât like it either,â said Lesley.
The door gave under her hand, they were over the threshold. From a blackness deeper than the nightâs, and far colder, the dim proportions of walls and furniture gradually emerged. (Where was the electric light switch? To the left or to the right?) What with fatigue, darkness and excitement, Patâs tears, the only sound in that unnatural silence, were rapidly overwhelming him.
âBe quiet, Pat,â said Lesley coldly. A deep and secret antagonism hardened her voice and her heart. To the pressure of his body against her side she deliberately denied response.
And now the light leapt out under her fingers, so that they were suddenly standing in a strange room. It was hideous, neat and dusty, and the clock did not go.
Part II
CHAPTER ONE
About four centuries before the
âThe one thing thatâs really important, darling, is not to know any one. Then you can do just as you like and shock the whole village. Weâll all come down and help. And be specially careful about the Vicar, darling, and that new kind of ratâthe one that was imported and then began to burrow. Donât you feel excited, darling, starting on your new life?â
âTerrifically,â said Lesley.
As well as she could in her rather coquettish position, Elissa suddenly looked intense.
âItâs like a new incarnation,â she pointed out. âA new incarnation, goingââ The car swerved violently, and also gave her an instant to think. The country and hard labourâwas that up and up, or down and down? She compromised. ââ Round and round. Youâll probably change enormously, one way or the other. Only do be careful of your figure, because thatâs always where the country tells first. Exercises, darlingâdo lots of exercises on a wooden floor.â¦â
In the back of the car, however, her friend repaid her with little attention. Lesley disliked inefficiency, and she disliked being made to wait: they had stopped twice already for a drink, and the daylight was steadily waning. She said,
âWhat time is your party, Elissa?â
The word, as always, produced an instant reaction: from Wendover onwards the hedges began to flash. The cars they overtook stood still, the cars they met exceeded the speed limit. Every few minutes Pat bumped over sideways and hit himself on the basket. He was three parts asleep and so fairly well armoured; but with every fresh collision Lesley half expected tears. He did not habitually weep, but nor for that matter did she; and it was from her own sensations, as they at last turned up the lane, that she gathered the clue to his.
âHere you are, darling! How delicious it looks!â cried Elissa gaily. Out went the suitcases, out went Pat, out went the basket of food. âAnd now for Godâs sake get a move on, Hugo, or I shanât have time to dress.â
3
For a minute or two longer Lesley stood just as they had left her, motionless among the packages, young Patrick pressed close to the folds of her coat. The air felt fresh, and colder than the air of London: it was so quiet that she could quite easily follow the first mile or two of the Minervaâs progress.
When the last throb had died away, leaving all still again, she took out the big key and pushed it into the lock.
âI donât like this place,â said Patrick suddenly.
From the sound of his voice she knew the tears to be near: but no impulse to console awoke in her, only a faint shiver of revulsion. A crying child, a dark house.â¦
âI donât like it either,â said Lesley.
The door gave under her hand, they were over the threshold. From a blackness deeper than the nightâs, and far colder, the dim proportions of walls and furniture gradually emerged. (Where was the electric light switch? To the left or to the right?) What with fatigue, darkness and excitement, Patâs tears, the only sound in that unnatural silence, were rapidly overwhelming him.
âBe quiet, Pat,â said Lesley coldly. A deep and secret antagonism hardened her voice and her heart. To the pressure of his body against her side she deliberately denied response.
And now the light leapt out under her fingers, so that they were suddenly standing in a strange room. It was hideous, neat and dusty, and the clock did not go.
Part II
CHAPTER ONE
About four centuries before the
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