Read Online The Wine-Dark Sea by Robert Aickman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Robert Aickman
Ads: Link
the valley before them, and toiled to the next ridge, a double line of railway and a stone-walled road climbed the valley beyond. While they watched, a train began slowly to chug upwards from far to the left.
‘The other one must have been going downhill,’ said Mimi.
They began the descent to the road. It was some time since there had been even a sheep path. The distance to the road was negligible as the crow flies, but it took them thirty-five minutes by Mimi’s wrist-watch, and the crawling train passed before them almost as soon as they started.
‘I wish we were crows,’ Mimi exclaimed.
Margaret said, ‘Yes,’ and smiled.
They noticed no traffic on the road, which, when reached, proved to be surfaced with hard, irregular granite chips, somewhat in need of re-laying and the attentions of a steamroller.
‘Pretty grim,’ said Mimi after a quarter of an hour. ‘But I’m through with that heather.’ Both sides of the valley were packed with it.
‘Hadn’t we better try to find out exactly where we are?’ suggested Margaret.
‘Does it really matter?’
‘There’s lunch.’
‘That doesn’t depend on where we are. So long as we’re in the country it’s all one, don’t you think?’
‘I think we’d better make sure.’
‘OK.’
Mimi again got out the map. As they were anchoring it by the roadside, a train roared into being and swept down the gradient.
‘What are you doing?’ asked Margaret, struggling with a rather unsuitable stone.
‘Waving, of course.’
‘Did anyone wave back?’
‘Haven’t you ever waved to the driver?’
‘No. I don’t think I have. I didn’t know it was the driver you waved to. I thought it was the passengers.’ The map now seemed secure.
‘Them too sometimes. But drivers always wave to girls.’
‘Only to girls?’
‘Only to girls.’ Mimi couldn’t remember when she hadn’t known that. ‘Where are we?’ They stared at the map, trying to drag out its mystery. Even now that they were on the road, with the railway plain before them crossing contour after contour, the problem seemed little simpler.
‘I wish there was an instrument which said how high we were,’ remarked Mimi.
‘Something else to carry.’
Soon they were reduced to staring about them.
‘Isn’t that a house?’ Mimi was again pointing the initiative.
‘If it is, I think it must be “Inn”.’ Margaret indicated it. ‘There’s no other building on the map this side of the railway tunnel, unless we’re much lower down the valley than we think.’
‘Maps don’t show every small building.’
‘They seem to in country districts. I’ve been noticing. Each farm has a little dot. Even the cottage by the reservoir yesterday had its dot.’
‘Oh well, if it’s a pub, we can eat in the bar. OK by me.’
Again they left behind them four grey stones at the corners of nothing.
‘Incidentally, the map only shows one house between the other end of the tunnel and Pudsley. A good eight miles, I should say.’
‘Let’s hope it’s one of your farms. I won’t face a night in Pudsley. We’re supposed to be on holiday. Remember?’
‘I expect they’ll put us up.’
The building ahead of them proved long deserted. Or possibly not so long; it is difficult to tell with simple stone buildings in a wet climate. The windows were planked up; slates from the roof littered the weedy garden; the front door had been stove in.
‘Trust the Army,’ said Mimi. ‘Hope tonight’s quarters are more weatherproof. We’d better eat. It’s a quarter past two.’
‘I don’t think it’s the Army. More like the agricultural depression.’ Margaret had learnt on her father’s estate the significance of deserted farmhouses and neglected holdings.
‘Look! There’s the tunnel.’
Margaret advanced a few steps up the road to join her. From the black portal the tunnel bored straight into the rock, with the road winding steeply above it.
‘There’s another building,’ said
‘The other one must have been going downhill,’ said Mimi.
They began the descent to the road. It was some time since there had been even a sheep path. The distance to the road was negligible as the crow flies, but it took them thirty-five minutes by Mimi’s wrist-watch, and the crawling train passed before them almost as soon as they started.
‘I wish we were crows,’ Mimi exclaimed.
Margaret said, ‘Yes,’ and smiled.
They noticed no traffic on the road, which, when reached, proved to be surfaced with hard, irregular granite chips, somewhat in need of re-laying and the attentions of a steamroller.
‘Pretty grim,’ said Mimi after a quarter of an hour. ‘But I’m through with that heather.’ Both sides of the valley were packed with it.
‘Hadn’t we better try to find out exactly where we are?’ suggested Margaret.
‘Does it really matter?’
‘There’s lunch.’
‘That doesn’t depend on where we are. So long as we’re in the country it’s all one, don’t you think?’
‘I think we’d better make sure.’
‘OK.’
Mimi again got out the map. As they were anchoring it by the roadside, a train roared into being and swept down the gradient.
‘What are you doing?’ asked Margaret, struggling with a rather unsuitable stone.
‘Waving, of course.’
‘Did anyone wave back?’
‘Haven’t you ever waved to the driver?’
‘No. I don’t think I have. I didn’t know it was the driver you waved to. I thought it was the passengers.’ The map now seemed secure.
‘Them too sometimes. But drivers always wave to girls.’
‘Only to girls?’
‘Only to girls.’ Mimi couldn’t remember when she hadn’t known that. ‘Where are we?’ They stared at the map, trying to drag out its mystery. Even now that they were on the road, with the railway plain before them crossing contour after contour, the problem seemed little simpler.
‘I wish there was an instrument which said how high we were,’ remarked Mimi.
‘Something else to carry.’
Soon they were reduced to staring about them.
‘Isn’t that a house?’ Mimi was again pointing the initiative.
‘If it is, I think it must be “Inn”.’ Margaret indicated it. ‘There’s no other building on the map this side of the railway tunnel, unless we’re much lower down the valley than we think.’
‘Maps don’t show every small building.’
‘They seem to in country districts. I’ve been noticing. Each farm has a little dot. Even the cottage by the reservoir yesterday had its dot.’
‘Oh well, if it’s a pub, we can eat in the bar. OK by me.’
Again they left behind them four grey stones at the corners of nothing.
‘Incidentally, the map only shows one house between the other end of the tunnel and Pudsley. A good eight miles, I should say.’
‘Let’s hope it’s one of your farms. I won’t face a night in Pudsley. We’re supposed to be on holiday. Remember?’
‘I expect they’ll put us up.’
The building ahead of them proved long deserted. Or possibly not so long; it is difficult to tell with simple stone buildings in a wet climate. The windows were planked up; slates from the roof littered the weedy garden; the front door had been stove in.
‘Trust the Army,’ said Mimi. ‘Hope tonight’s quarters are more weatherproof. We’d better eat. It’s a quarter past two.’
‘I don’t think it’s the Army. More like the agricultural depression.’ Margaret had learnt on her father’s estate the significance of deserted farmhouses and neglected holdings.
‘Look! There’s the tunnel.’
Margaret advanced a few steps up the road to join her. From the black portal the tunnel bored straight into the rock, with the road winding steeply above it.
‘There’s another building,’ said
Similar Books
