Read Online The Stranger Came by Frederic Lindsay - Free Book Online
Authors: Frederic Lindsay
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find the doctor's wife smiling back as she hurried past.
In the dry morning light the village was sharp-cornered, cold and clean. There was no wind and it looked as if the rain clouds might stay where they were, resting on the mountain summits across the strath. She went on the sunny side past the post office and the old tearoom now a Pakistani grocer's, and by the time she came to the terrace of cottages, three of which had been knocked together by Ewen Hayes, she was feeling better. The walk had done her good.
As she entered, she called out, but came at once on Janet curled up on the couch in the lounge with her head bent over a book. The red of her hair was vivid against a blanched prospect of winter garden.
'Enjoying a good book?'
'Oh, Jesus!' Janet cried out in fright.
'My dear!' Lucy said flustered. 'How stupid of me.’
But Janet, uncurling her long legs, was getting up, recovered and smiling. 'It's me who should apologise. You got more of a fright than I did. It's lovely to see you.’
'Country manners,' Lucy said ruefully. 'I did call out. But you were lost to the world. It must be good.’ Curious she took up the book. It was a paperback with a cover showing a busty beauty in a Regency dress, hair windblown across a background of ships and swung cutlasses. It was not what she had expected to see and she began to read at the place where it had been laid open: 'Though she struggled against his grip and pled piteously, he drew her towards him inexorably. Slowly she was pulled down upon him and despite all her twisting the hard blade of his passion urged through the gossamer stuff of her gown against her straining thighs.’ She felt her cheeks flush. Her eyes swept down the page, 'as he surrounded the soft peak of her breast with the hungry lapping of his tongue, a shudder passed through her and her thighs fell open. The throbbing heat of him thrust into her. A fierce reply rose to meet his driving need. The licking flames of desire –'
'Ohh!' she exclaimed, an unintentionally fastidious sound, and dropped the book on the couch. 'I don't think I could cope with that so early in the day.’
'I believe they're known in the trade as bodice-rippers,' Janet said. 'Soft porn for stupid women.’
'But you're not a stupid woman.’
'No … I'm having another drink. Do you want to join me? Or is it too early for that as well?'
There was a glass on the coffee table beside the couch.
She wondered how often it had been emptied already.
'Enough! – And lots of lemonade.’ She settled into the chair opposite Janet on the couch. 'Cheers! I didn't feel like housework this morning.’ Something ironical in the younger woman's gaze made her uncomfortable. 'It's been ages. Wherever does the time go?'
'Do you know what age I am?' Janet took a long swig from the glass as she waited for an answer.
'Not exactly.’
'I'm twenty-nine. I'll be thirty on the day before Christmas. That's my present for this year.’
Lucy was relieved. If that was all that was wrong!
'It's a present I'd be grateful for,' she laughed. 'It's rather too long since I woke up and found thirty in my stocking.’
'I don't want to grow old.’
'Oh, old ! ' Lucy cried, half amused and entirely offended. Janet stared, absorbed and unsmiling.
'I go to sleep at night and wake up in the morning thinking about it. All those creams and the ghastly diets, you know? And exercise … Like men say, you know? Are you fit? And that's what we pretend now too – that we're getting fit. Nobody ever says fit for what.’ Involuntarily, Lucy glanced at the book on the couch; the bust spilling out of the Regency top defied nature. She could not bring herself to make the joke, but it would have been a relief if Janet had. Her tone was horribly serious. 'But it doesn't stop – you go on getting older every minute of every day – even while you're sleeping it doesn't stop . You leave an apple in the bowl and put fresh ones on top by mistake, and when you get to it
In the dry morning light the village was sharp-cornered, cold and clean. There was no wind and it looked as if the rain clouds might stay where they were, resting on the mountain summits across the strath. She went on the sunny side past the post office and the old tearoom now a Pakistani grocer's, and by the time she came to the terrace of cottages, three of which had been knocked together by Ewen Hayes, she was feeling better. The walk had done her good.
As she entered, she called out, but came at once on Janet curled up on the couch in the lounge with her head bent over a book. The red of her hair was vivid against a blanched prospect of winter garden.
'Enjoying a good book?'
'Oh, Jesus!' Janet cried out in fright.
'My dear!' Lucy said flustered. 'How stupid of me.’
But Janet, uncurling her long legs, was getting up, recovered and smiling. 'It's me who should apologise. You got more of a fright than I did. It's lovely to see you.’
'Country manners,' Lucy said ruefully. 'I did call out. But you were lost to the world. It must be good.’ Curious she took up the book. It was a paperback with a cover showing a busty beauty in a Regency dress, hair windblown across a background of ships and swung cutlasses. It was not what she had expected to see and she began to read at the place where it had been laid open: 'Though she struggled against his grip and pled piteously, he drew her towards him inexorably. Slowly she was pulled down upon him and despite all her twisting the hard blade of his passion urged through the gossamer stuff of her gown against her straining thighs.’ She felt her cheeks flush. Her eyes swept down the page, 'as he surrounded the soft peak of her breast with the hungry lapping of his tongue, a shudder passed through her and her thighs fell open. The throbbing heat of him thrust into her. A fierce reply rose to meet his driving need. The licking flames of desire –'
'Ohh!' she exclaimed, an unintentionally fastidious sound, and dropped the book on the couch. 'I don't think I could cope with that so early in the day.’
'I believe they're known in the trade as bodice-rippers,' Janet said. 'Soft porn for stupid women.’
'But you're not a stupid woman.’
'No … I'm having another drink. Do you want to join me? Or is it too early for that as well?'
There was a glass on the coffee table beside the couch.
She wondered how often it had been emptied already.
'Enough! – And lots of lemonade.’ She settled into the chair opposite Janet on the couch. 'Cheers! I didn't feel like housework this morning.’ Something ironical in the younger woman's gaze made her uncomfortable. 'It's been ages. Wherever does the time go?'
'Do you know what age I am?' Janet took a long swig from the glass as she waited for an answer.
'Not exactly.’
'I'm twenty-nine. I'll be thirty on the day before Christmas. That's my present for this year.’
Lucy was relieved. If that was all that was wrong!
'It's a present I'd be grateful for,' she laughed. 'It's rather too long since I woke up and found thirty in my stocking.’
'I don't want to grow old.’
'Oh, old ! ' Lucy cried, half amused and entirely offended. Janet stared, absorbed and unsmiling.
'I go to sleep at night and wake up in the morning thinking about it. All those creams and the ghastly diets, you know? And exercise … Like men say, you know? Are you fit? And that's what we pretend now too – that we're getting fit. Nobody ever says fit for what.’ Involuntarily, Lucy glanced at the book on the couch; the bust spilling out of the Regency top defied nature. She could not bring herself to make the joke, but it would have been a relief if Janet had. Her tone was horribly serious. 'But it doesn't stop – you go on getting older every minute of every day – even while you're sleeping it doesn't stop . You leave an apple in the bowl and put fresh ones on top by mistake, and when you get to it
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