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Authors: Ruth Rendell
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free with it, that kind. The clothes she give me, you wouldn’t believe. I had to let most of them go to my granddaughter, being a bit past wearing them trouser suits and skirts up to me navel.
‘She’d got her head screwed on the right way, mind. Very sharp way she’d got with the tradesmen. She always bought the best and she liked to know what she was getting for her money. You’d have to get up early in the morning to put anything over on her. Different to him.’
‘Mr Margolis?’
‘I know it’s easy to say, but I reckon he’s mental. All of a year I was there and he never had a soul come to see him. Paint, paint, paint, all the blessed day long, but when he’d done you couldn’t see what it was meant to be. “I wonder you don’t get fed up with it,” I says to him once. “Oh, I’m very fecund, Mrs Penistan,” he says, whatever that may mean. Sounded dirty to me. No, his mind’s affected all right.’ She piled the chips on to two plates and began cracking eggs which she sniffed suspiciously before dropping them into the pan.
Burden had just begun to ask her about Kirkpatrick’s threats when the back door opened and two large bull-necked men in working clothes came in. Were these the boys who didn’t care what they brought in on their feet? Both looked years older than Burden himself. With a nod to their mother, they tramped across the kitchen, taking no notice at all of her visitor. Perhaps they also concluded that he had come to service the vacuum cleaner.
‘Hang on a minute, dear,’ said Mrs Penistan. Aplate in each hand, she disappeared into the living room. Burden finished the last of his tea. Presently one of the boys came back for the teapot, followed by his mother, now all smiles.
‘You can’t get a word out of them till they’ve got a meal inside them,’ she said proudly. Her son ignored her, marched off, banging doors behind him. ‘Now, dear, you wanted to know about Mr Kirkpatrick. Let’s see, where are we now? Friday. It would have been last Wednesday week. Mr Margolis had gone down to Devon for a painting holiday. I come in a couple of days before and I says to her, “Where’s your brother, then?” “Dartmoor,” she says, and that I could believe, though Broadmoor was more his mark.’ She let out a shrill laugh and sat down opposite Burden, her elbows on the table. ‘Well, two days later on the Wednesday there comes a knock at the door in the afternoon. “I’ll go,” she says and when she opens the door there’s this Kirkpatrick. “Good afternoon,” she says, sort of cool but in ever such a funny way I can’t describe. “Good afternoon,” he says and they just stand there looking at each other. Anyway, as I say, there’s no side to her and she introduces me very nice. “Penistan?” he says. “That’s a real local name. We’ve got some Penistans living opposite us in Pomfret,” and that’s how I know where he come from. Well, I was getting on with cleaning the silver so I went back into the kitchenette.
‘No more than five minutes later I hear them go upstairs. Must be going to look at his paintings, I thought in my ignorance. There was paintings all over the place, dear, even in the bathroom. About half an hour after that they come down again and I’m beginning to wonder what’s in the air. Then I heard them start this arguing.
‘ “For God’s sake don’t drool all over me, Alan,” she says sharpish. “Love”, she says, raising her voice. “I don’t know what that is. If I love anyone it’s Rupert.” Rupert being her mental brother. Well, this Alan, he flies right off the handle and he starts shouting. All sorts of horrible expressions he used as I couldn’t repeat. But she didn’t turn a hair. “I’m not ending anything, darling,” she says, “You can go on having what you’ve just had upstairs.” I can tell you, dear, all the blood rushed to my head. This is the last time you set foot in here, Rose Penistan, I says to myself.
‘She’d got her head screwed on the right way, mind. Very sharp way she’d got with the tradesmen. She always bought the best and she liked to know what she was getting for her money. You’d have to get up early in the morning to put anything over on her. Different to him.’
‘Mr Margolis?’
‘I know it’s easy to say, but I reckon he’s mental. All of a year I was there and he never had a soul come to see him. Paint, paint, paint, all the blessed day long, but when he’d done you couldn’t see what it was meant to be. “I wonder you don’t get fed up with it,” I says to him once. “Oh, I’m very fecund, Mrs Penistan,” he says, whatever that may mean. Sounded dirty to me. No, his mind’s affected all right.’ She piled the chips on to two plates and began cracking eggs which she sniffed suspiciously before dropping them into the pan.
Burden had just begun to ask her about Kirkpatrick’s threats when the back door opened and two large bull-necked men in working clothes came in. Were these the boys who didn’t care what they brought in on their feet? Both looked years older than Burden himself. With a nod to their mother, they tramped across the kitchen, taking no notice at all of her visitor. Perhaps they also concluded that he had come to service the vacuum cleaner.
‘Hang on a minute, dear,’ said Mrs Penistan. Aplate in each hand, she disappeared into the living room. Burden finished the last of his tea. Presently one of the boys came back for the teapot, followed by his mother, now all smiles.
‘You can’t get a word out of them till they’ve got a meal inside them,’ she said proudly. Her son ignored her, marched off, banging doors behind him. ‘Now, dear, you wanted to know about Mr Kirkpatrick. Let’s see, where are we now? Friday. It would have been last Wednesday week. Mr Margolis had gone down to Devon for a painting holiday. I come in a couple of days before and I says to her, “Where’s your brother, then?” “Dartmoor,” she says, and that I could believe, though Broadmoor was more his mark.’ She let out a shrill laugh and sat down opposite Burden, her elbows on the table. ‘Well, two days later on the Wednesday there comes a knock at the door in the afternoon. “I’ll go,” she says and when she opens the door there’s this Kirkpatrick. “Good afternoon,” she says, sort of cool but in ever such a funny way I can’t describe. “Good afternoon,” he says and they just stand there looking at each other. Anyway, as I say, there’s no side to her and she introduces me very nice. “Penistan?” he says. “That’s a real local name. We’ve got some Penistans living opposite us in Pomfret,” and that’s how I know where he come from. Well, I was getting on with cleaning the silver so I went back into the kitchenette.
‘No more than five minutes later I hear them go upstairs. Must be going to look at his paintings, I thought in my ignorance. There was paintings all over the place, dear, even in the bathroom. About half an hour after that they come down again and I’m beginning to wonder what’s in the air. Then I heard them start this arguing.
‘ “For God’s sake don’t drool all over me, Alan,” she says sharpish. “Love”, she says, raising her voice. “I don’t know what that is. If I love anyone it’s Rupert.” Rupert being her mental brother. Well, this Alan, he flies right off the handle and he starts shouting. All sorts of horrible expressions he used as I couldn’t repeat. But she didn’t turn a hair. “I’m not ending anything, darling,” she says, “You can go on having what you’ve just had upstairs.” I can tell you, dear, all the blood rushed to my head. This is the last time you set foot in here, Rose Penistan, I says to myself.
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