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Authors: Susan Hill
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before today.’
The compartment was absolutely silent, apart from her low, urgent voice. We were still standing at the deserted country station. Now and again there came a faint hiss of steam, or iron clang, from the engine ahead. I saw that the edge of the platform was now white with lying snow.
‘It is sometimes very awkward – an embarrassment, that I know – am told, these things – am given warnings. I become so horribly aware of, oh, an imminent death, danger, of evil surrounding someone – usually a person I do not know at all, but very occasionally it is a friend, which isthe worst. It has happened to me since I was a child. I never try to influence it, bring it about, very much the contrary, but it is so powerful I cannot ignore it.’
I saw that she spoke the truth.
‘And have these – feelings ever proved correct?’
‘Oh yes, always – when I know the outcome, that is. Of course I very often do not …’ She pulled her collar closely around her throat. It was becoming bitterly cold in the carriage.
‘I do hot choose,’ she said quietly.
Then, I found myself beginning to speak about myself, and to tell her, though quite guardedly at first, of my years abroad and a little about the recent weeks in London. I finished by outlining, very matter of factly, my plans for the immediate future, and the work on Conrad Vane.
‘It is in that connection,’ I said, ‘that I am travelling today. I am on my way to his old school, where the library has papers, letters and so forth. I intend to stay there for a few days and begin my researches.’
Her face remained clouded and thoughtful. ‘And then?’
‘Then? Oh, I shall return to my rooms in Chelsea – unless my quest leads me elsewhere, which at this stage I cannot foresee.’
‘What will you do at Christmas, Mr Monmouth?’
‘I confess I have given it no thought whatsoever.’
It was true. In past years, in those countries I had lived and travelled in, Christmas had meant little or nothing and, although I had been brought up as a Christian and sent to a missionary school, I had grown away from observance of the ceremonies as soon as I had left – though not altogether from some simple, essential beliefs.
‘The day will soon pass,’ I said, ‘without very much interest.’
She opened her handbag and took out a card.
‘That is our address. We are only a few miles or so from the school – my sons went there, of course, so did myhusband. If you have need of anything at all during your stay …’
I took it and thanked her.
‘I am so uneasy. I wish you would not go on with this. I do not know why but I feel it so strongly.’
I did not reply.
‘Ah, you think I am mad, a hysterical, middle-aged woman. I have embarrassed you, I see that.’ She leaned forward and spoke urgently. ‘It has been so very long – years, since it has happened to me. I assure you that I am in all respects very calm and common-sensical.’
‘I believe it.’
‘Come to us for Christmas. Yes, that is the answer! We shall be quite a large party, you will fit in perfectly. I can’t think of your being alone in a strange country at Christmas.’
‘It is not strange – I have never felt more at home.’
‘Nevertheless.’
‘You are very kind. But you do not know me – you know nothing about me.’
‘I know what you have told me, and it is quite clear to me that you are an honest man.’
I remembered that the Reverend Mr Votable had said as much.
‘Thank you. But surely your husband …’
‘Oh, Lionel will not object, he will find you of great interest, I assure you, and he is always guided by me in such domestic arrangements. Come to us at Christmas, Mr Monmouth. Telegraph to us, giving your arrival time, and I will arrange to have you met at the station – say, on Christmas Eve?’
At that moment, the train jerked and started to move slowly forwards, we cleared the bleak little station and were at once plunged into a blackness through which
The compartment was absolutely silent, apart from her low, urgent voice. We were still standing at the deserted country station. Now and again there came a faint hiss of steam, or iron clang, from the engine ahead. I saw that the edge of the platform was now white with lying snow.
‘It is sometimes very awkward – an embarrassment, that I know – am told, these things – am given warnings. I become so horribly aware of, oh, an imminent death, danger, of evil surrounding someone – usually a person I do not know at all, but very occasionally it is a friend, which isthe worst. It has happened to me since I was a child. I never try to influence it, bring it about, very much the contrary, but it is so powerful I cannot ignore it.’
I saw that she spoke the truth.
‘And have these – feelings ever proved correct?’
‘Oh yes, always – when I know the outcome, that is. Of course I very often do not …’ She pulled her collar closely around her throat. It was becoming bitterly cold in the carriage.
‘I do hot choose,’ she said quietly.
Then, I found myself beginning to speak about myself, and to tell her, though quite guardedly at first, of my years abroad and a little about the recent weeks in London. I finished by outlining, very matter of factly, my plans for the immediate future, and the work on Conrad Vane.
‘It is in that connection,’ I said, ‘that I am travelling today. I am on my way to his old school, where the library has papers, letters and so forth. I intend to stay there for a few days and begin my researches.’
Her face remained clouded and thoughtful. ‘And then?’
‘Then? Oh, I shall return to my rooms in Chelsea – unless my quest leads me elsewhere, which at this stage I cannot foresee.’
‘What will you do at Christmas, Mr Monmouth?’
‘I confess I have given it no thought whatsoever.’
It was true. In past years, in those countries I had lived and travelled in, Christmas had meant little or nothing and, although I had been brought up as a Christian and sent to a missionary school, I had grown away from observance of the ceremonies as soon as I had left – though not altogether from some simple, essential beliefs.
‘The day will soon pass,’ I said, ‘without very much interest.’
She opened her handbag and took out a card.
‘That is our address. We are only a few miles or so from the school – my sons went there, of course, so did myhusband. If you have need of anything at all during your stay …’
I took it and thanked her.
‘I am so uneasy. I wish you would not go on with this. I do not know why but I feel it so strongly.’
I did not reply.
‘Ah, you think I am mad, a hysterical, middle-aged woman. I have embarrassed you, I see that.’ She leaned forward and spoke urgently. ‘It has been so very long – years, since it has happened to me. I assure you that I am in all respects very calm and common-sensical.’
‘I believe it.’
‘Come to us for Christmas. Yes, that is the answer! We shall be quite a large party, you will fit in perfectly. I can’t think of your being alone in a strange country at Christmas.’
‘It is not strange – I have never felt more at home.’
‘Nevertheless.’
‘You are very kind. But you do not know me – you know nothing about me.’
‘I know what you have told me, and it is quite clear to me that you are an honest man.’
I remembered that the Reverend Mr Votable had said as much.
‘Thank you. But surely your husband …’
‘Oh, Lionel will not object, he will find you of great interest, I assure you, and he is always guided by me in such domestic arrangements. Come to us at Christmas, Mr Monmouth. Telegraph to us, giving your arrival time, and I will arrange to have you met at the station – say, on Christmas Eve?’
At that moment, the train jerked and started to move slowly forwards, we cleared the bleak little station and were at once plunged into a blackness through which
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