Read Online The Watch Tower by Elizabeth Harrower - Free Book Online Page B

forward like the petty cash balance to the nextday. It would not have been proper. Felix was modest and prim. She was glad. If he teased her a little cruelly, smiling fixedly as he pointed out her defects, she would have to learn not to be too touchy. It was true that she was ignorant. He was no more than right when he told her that she was not beautiful. Yes, she was relieved. Things, shapeless feelings, nightmarish and strange as mountains fighting, as landslides and ranges rising out of the sea, were best curtained off by the gold light of day. It was right to keep days and nights in separate compartments the way Felix did. Fortunately, fortunately, people had the sense not to go about in the mornings, in the streets, as if they guessed, or even (the thought really stunned her) had similar secrets. Evidently in Felix’s mind, one section at a time was all that could stay open. This could be a useful habit to aspire to. Assume forgetfulness if you have it not—
    ‘The men of this tribe,’ the anthropologist had written in that book of Clare’s that she had skimmed one night, ‘the men of this tribe regard the act of sex as the ultimate insult to be inflicted on a woman. Having degraded their wives by using them thus, they hold them thereafter in the greatest contempt.’
    Goodness knew what brought that to her mind!
    If Felix teased her a little strangely, almost unkindly, it meant nothing in particular. Against the teasing and the employer’s look and tone, she had to weigh the lovely house, the garden and water-views, and thefact that she and Clare were to be taken care of. Yes, against all her silly invisible fancies, she had to set the very real white house. After all, he had bestowed its care on her.
    ‘Oh, it’s heavenly!’ Clare said effusively, pressed again and again for appreciation. ‘There’s a lot of space,’ she added more sincerely. ‘I like the grass and trees.’
    ‘Space!’ Laura’s hand caressed the blue curtain. Almost, she revered the house. Almost, she loved and feared it with a heavy doting love.
    ‘Yes,’ Clare said. There was more space, but no more company. It was extremely nice to look at, she could see, and there were very many new and pretty objects in it, which she had lifted, looked at and replaced. Of course, it wasn’t her house, which could have accounted for her ability not to be overcome by its value and its lacy charm. (But of course it wasn’t Laura’s, either.)
    ‘Picked this up for you the other day.’ Peter Trotter thrust a parcel into Felix’s hands as he was leaving the shop. ‘Present. Reminded me of you.’ Felix’s expression was both touched and suspicious. ‘Wait till you get home,’ Peter said, when he started to open it. ‘Read the label.’
    Striding into the house half an hour later, he called, ‘Hey there! Where is everyone? Come and see what Peter gave me!’
    Laura sped from the kitchen, but Felix lookedabout, dissatisfied. ‘Where’s Clare?’
    ‘Cla-are! Cla-are! Come here a minute!’
    She came running from the garden, and raised her fair brows and grinned with open optimistic eyes at Felix, who had so recently provided car rides, meals in restaurants, plays, picnics, events. ‘What’s happening?’
    Felix drew the present from its brown-paper wrappings with a magician’s hey presto! flourish, and held it up like an auctioneer.
    ‘Oh!’ Laura was prepared to be delighted, but looked at Felix for an explanation.
    ‘An ornament?’ Clare hazarded.
    ‘Who do you think it is?’ Felix was wearing his slyest smile.
    ‘A sultan? A sheikh?’
    The china figure, fifteen inches high, represented a swarthy turbaned man wearing rich robes of red and blue, in the act of drawing a long assassin’s knife from the low-slung girdle at his waist.
    ‘Bluebeard!’ Felix cried. ‘Me! Peter said it reminded him of me.’ He held the small dark china face close to his own and assumed a terrible leer.
    Laura gave an indignant laugh. ‘What a