Read Online Tipping the Velvet by Sarah Waters - Free Book Online Page A

kind. ‘Well, well, Miss Butler,’ he said when he took her hand, nodding at her skirts, ‘this is rather a change, ain’t it, from your usual gear?’ She smiled and said it was; and when he added, with a wink, ‘And something of an improvement, too - if you don’t mind a gentleman saying so’, she laughed and said that, since gentlemen were usually of that opinion, she was quite used to it, and did not mind a bit.
    All in all she made herself so pleasant, and answered their questions about herself, and the music hall, so sweetly and cleverly, that no one - not even Alice, or spiteful Rhoda - could dislike her; and I - watching her gaze from the windows at Whitstable Bay, or incline her head to catch a story of my father’s, or compliment my mother on some ornament or picture (she admired the shawl, above the fireplace!) - I fell in love with her, all over again. And my love was all the warmer, of course, since I had that special, secret knowledge about Tricky, and the contract, and the extra four months.
    She had come for tea, and presently we all sat down to it - Kitty marvelling, as we did so, at the table. It was set for a real oyster-supper, with a linen cloth, and a little spirit-lamp with a plate of butter on it, waiting to be melted. On either side of this there were platters of bread, and quartered lemons, and vinegar and pepper castors - two or three of each. Beside every plate there was a fork, a spoon, a napkin, and the all-important oyster-knife; and in the middle of the table there was the oyster-barrel itself, a white cloth bound about its top-most hoop, and its lid loosened by a finger’s width - ‘Just enough,’ as my father would say, ‘to let the oysters stretch a little’; but not enough to let them open their shells and sicken. We were rather cramped around the table, for there were eight of us in all, and we had had to bring up extra chairs from the restaurant below. Kitty and I sat close, our elbows almost touching, our shoes side by side beneath the table. When Mother cried, ‘Do move along a bit, Nancy, and give Miss Butler some room!’, Kitty said that she was quite all right, Mrs Astley, really; and I shifted a quarter of an inch to my right, but kept my foot pressed against hers, and felt her leg, all hot, against my own.
    Father handed out the oysters, and Mother offered beer or lemonade. Kitty picked up a shell with one hand and her oyster-knife with the other, and brought them together rather ineffectually. Father saw, and gave a shout.
    â€˜Ho, there, Miss Butler, where are our manners! Davy, you take that knife and show the lady how - else she might just job the blade into her hand, and give herself a nasty cut.’
    â€˜I can do it,’ I said quickly; and I took the oyster from her, and the knife, before my brother could get his fingers on them.
    â€˜You do it like this,’ I said to her. ‘You must hold the oyster in your palm so that the flat shell is uppermost - like this.’ I held the shell to show her, and she gazed at it rather gravely. ‘Then you must take your blade and put it - not between the halves, but in the hinge, here. And then you must grasp it, and prise.’ I gave the knife a gentle twist, and the shell eased open. ‘You must hold it steady,’ I went on, ‘because the shell is full of liquor, and you mustn’t spill a drop of it, for that’s the tastiest part.’ The little fish sat in my palm in its bath of oyster-juice, naked and slippery. ‘This here,’ I said, pointing with my knife, ‘is called the beard; you must trim that away.’ I gave the blade a flick, and the beard was severed. ‘Then you must just cut your oyster free ... And now you may eat it.’ I slipped the shell carefully into her hand, and felt her fingers warm and soft against my own as she cupped them to receive it. Our heads were very near. She raised the oyster to her