Read Online The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sarah Waters
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I heard the noisy squirt of the milk in the empty bucket, and saw the brisk rhythmic movement of her arms. Taking a step to one side, I could just make out beneath the cow’s broad hindquarters the flash of her hands tugging on the pale, impossibly elastic-looking udders.
She had finished that cow and started on another before Roderick finished his. He led the beast out of the shed, emptied his pail of foaming milk into a scrubbed steel vat, then came over to me, wiping his fingers on his apron and jerking up his chin.
‘What can I do for you?’
I didn’t want to keep him from his work, so told him briefly what I had in mind, phrasing it all as if I were asking a favour, putting it to him that he’d be helping me out with some rather important research … The scheme sounded less convincing, somehow, than when I had described it to his sister in the car, and he listened with a very dubious expression, especially when I described the electrical nature of the machine. ‘I’m sorry to say we haven’t the fuel to run our generator during the day,’ he said, shaking his head as if that put an end to it. But I assured him that the coil ran off its own dry cells … I could see Caroline watching us, and when she had finished with another cow she came and joined us, adding her arguments to mine. Roderick looked anxiously at the restless waiting cattle as she spoke, and I think he agreed to the scheme in the end purely as a way of shutting us up. As soon as he could, he went limping over to the pen to fetch another beast for milking, and it was Caroline who fixed the date for me to come to the house.
‘I’ll make sure he’s there,’ she murmured. ‘Don’t worry.’ And she added, as if just struck by the thought: ‘Come long enough to stay for tea again, will you? I know Mother would want you to.’
‘Yes,’ I said, pleased. ‘I’d like to. Thank you, Miss Ayres.’
At that, she put on a comically pained expression. ‘Oh, call me Caroline, won’t you? Lord knows, I’ve years and years ahead of me of being dry Miss Ayres … But I’ll still call you Doctor, if I may. One never quite likes to breach those professional distances, somehow.’
Smiling, she offered me her warm, milk-scented hand; and we shook on it, there in the cowshed, like a couple of farmers sealing a deal.
T he date I made with her was for the following Sunday: another warm day, as it turned out, with a parched, languished feel to it, and a sky made heavy and hazy with dust and grain. The square red it, front of the Hall looked pale and curiously insubstantial as I approached, and only as I drew up on the gravel did it seem to come into proper focus: I saw again all the shabby detail and, even more than on my first visit, I had an impression of the house being held in some sort of balance. One could see so painfully, I thought, both the glorious thing it had recently been, and the ruin it was on the way to becoming.
This time Roderick must have been looking out for me. The front door was drawn gratingly open, and he stood at the top of the cracked steps while I emerged from the car. When I made my way over to him with my doctor’s bag in one hand and, in the other, the induction coil in its neat wooden case, he gave a frown.
‘This is the gadget you meant? I was picturing something heftier. This looks like something you’d keep sandwiches in.’
I said, ‘It’s more powerful than you’d think.’
‘Well, if you say so … Let me show you to my room.’
He spoke as if rather regretting having agreed to the whole thing. But he turned and led me inside, taking me to the right of the staircase this time, and along another cool dim passage. He opened up the last of its doors, saying vaguely, ‘I’m afraid it’s a bit of a mess in here.’
I followed him in, and set down my things; then looked about me in some surprise. When he had spoken of ‘his room’ I’d naturally been picturing an ordinary bedroom, but this room was
She had finished that cow and started on another before Roderick finished his. He led the beast out of the shed, emptied his pail of foaming milk into a scrubbed steel vat, then came over to me, wiping his fingers on his apron and jerking up his chin.
‘What can I do for you?’
I didn’t want to keep him from his work, so told him briefly what I had in mind, phrasing it all as if I were asking a favour, putting it to him that he’d be helping me out with some rather important research … The scheme sounded less convincing, somehow, than when I had described it to his sister in the car, and he listened with a very dubious expression, especially when I described the electrical nature of the machine. ‘I’m sorry to say we haven’t the fuel to run our generator during the day,’ he said, shaking his head as if that put an end to it. But I assured him that the coil ran off its own dry cells … I could see Caroline watching us, and when she had finished with another cow she came and joined us, adding her arguments to mine. Roderick looked anxiously at the restless waiting cattle as she spoke, and I think he agreed to the scheme in the end purely as a way of shutting us up. As soon as he could, he went limping over to the pen to fetch another beast for milking, and it was Caroline who fixed the date for me to come to the house.
‘I’ll make sure he’s there,’ she murmured. ‘Don’t worry.’ And she added, as if just struck by the thought: ‘Come long enough to stay for tea again, will you? I know Mother would want you to.’
‘Yes,’ I said, pleased. ‘I’d like to. Thank you, Miss Ayres.’
At that, she put on a comically pained expression. ‘Oh, call me Caroline, won’t you? Lord knows, I’ve years and years ahead of me of being dry Miss Ayres … But I’ll still call you Doctor, if I may. One never quite likes to breach those professional distances, somehow.’
Smiling, she offered me her warm, milk-scented hand; and we shook on it, there in the cowshed, like a couple of farmers sealing a deal.
T he date I made with her was for the following Sunday: another warm day, as it turned out, with a parched, languished feel to it, and a sky made heavy and hazy with dust and grain. The square red it, front of the Hall looked pale and curiously insubstantial as I approached, and only as I drew up on the gravel did it seem to come into proper focus: I saw again all the shabby detail and, even more than on my first visit, I had an impression of the house being held in some sort of balance. One could see so painfully, I thought, both the glorious thing it had recently been, and the ruin it was on the way to becoming.
This time Roderick must have been looking out for me. The front door was drawn gratingly open, and he stood at the top of the cracked steps while I emerged from the car. When I made my way over to him with my doctor’s bag in one hand and, in the other, the induction coil in its neat wooden case, he gave a frown.
‘This is the gadget you meant? I was picturing something heftier. This looks like something you’d keep sandwiches in.’
I said, ‘It’s more powerful than you’d think.’
‘Well, if you say so … Let me show you to my room.’
He spoke as if rather regretting having agreed to the whole thing. But he turned and led me inside, taking me to the right of the staircase this time, and along another cool dim passage. He opened up the last of its doors, saying vaguely, ‘I’m afraid it’s a bit of a mess in here.’
I followed him in, and set down my things; then looked about me in some surprise. When he had spoken of ‘his room’ I’d naturally been picturing an ordinary bedroom, but this room was
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