Thirteen Steps Down (30 page)

there for three or four hours and then not for long. Through the open

dining room door she glimpsed a carefully laid table, set with eight

places, of course, but withf lowers too and candles. No boyfriend of hers

had ever entertainedin his own home in this fashion. They had all been

well off, some of them very rich, but when she had gone back with them

their houses or flats had been as messy as hers, and though there was

an abundance of drink, cigarettes, and other aids to changing

consciousness, she had never seen a laid table or even food on a tray.

But Darel, she reminded herself sadly, wasn't her boyfriend or likely to

be.

He was a gracious host. Nerissa was used to men singling her out and

being particularly nice to her, but she had always wondered about this,

knowing that if she had been plain and unknown she would have been

largely ignored. And the fact that Darel treated her and her mother and

his mother and Andrew's wife in exactly the same way, politely and

attentively, farf rom irritating her made her feel that this was how things

ought to be in society in general. But she did notice that when he was on

the other side of the room, replenishing drinks or checking on the dinner

it appeared he was cooking himself, he caught her eye rather often and

always smiled at her. When she arrived too, although he had paid her no

compliments, she wasconscious as he took her coat that the look he gave

her was unmistakably admiring of her appearance, her piled-up hair and

the sleek red-gold dress she wore. She resolved that tonight she would

forget her stringent discipline in the matter of diet and eat everything she

was offered. She would do justice to his cooking.

Music was playing, but very softly. It was the classical kind that she

always said she didn't understand, but she liked this. Itwas gentle and

sweet with no underlying harsh beat. Apartfrom gatherings at her

parents' house, this was the first partyshe had ever been to where no one

drank too much, no one disappeared into a bedroom with a stranger, the

conversation wasn't smart and malicious, and the language never

degenerated into obscenity. It should therefore have been dull, but

itwasn't. Nor did the subjects discussed center on domesticity and the

property market. Her brother and sister-in-law were both lawyers and

they talked about cases that had recently come up in court. They moved

on to the stock market, which Darel was as happy to talk about as he

was about politics.Everyone had varying, but not ill-tempered, views on

the Iraq war. Mr. Jones was a head teacher with informed radical

opinions on education. If Nerissa missed the gossip, she liked being

asked what she thought, and she very much liked not being treated as

the empty-headed model with only her looks and her money to

recommend her. Just once she felt awkward and that was when Andrew

mentioned a case in which he had been prosecuting and the defendant

was a fortune-teller. Everyone present, though in a measured and

civilized fashion, condemned fortune-telling as rubbish and astrology

along with it. Darel was particularly scathing. Nerissa said nothing,

unwilling to appear as the only one there who knew the names of the

cards in the Tarot and had actually had her future told.

But she was puzzled as to why Darel had invited her. Shecouldn't think

of a reason but she could see her visit as a prelude to something else. At

the end of the evening there would surely be a follow-up. And then she'd

try to make herself more into the sort of woman he'd like. She'd learn to

be tidier and more methodical, she'd read more so that she could better

understand what people like the Joneses were talking about and talk like

they did herself. She'd buy some classical CDs and stop playing hip-hop

and that song about the prettiest girli n town.

Her parents were the first to leave and Darel accompanied them to the

front door. Nerissa had noticed that when the door was shut, nothing of

what was said in the hallway could be heard by those in the living room.

Only the sounds of Darel's calling good-bye and the closing the front door

wereaudible.

She let her brother and sister-in-law go, knowing she mustn't be the

last to leave. Yet, oh how much she would have liked to be! She was in

love with Darel Jones, knowing this quite clearly because she had never

been in love before. He had never kissed her, never done more than

shake hands with her, but she knew she wanted to spend the rest of her

life with him. She was doomed, she thought, to thinking about him at

every waking moment with no hope of her love being returned. But surely

a little hope still remained?

Five minutes after her brother's departure, she got up to go,said a polite

but not at all obsequious good-bye to Mr. andMrs. Jones, and preceded

Darel out of the room. His closing ofthe living room door behind him sent

a shiver of anticipationdown her spine. He fetched her coat, held it up for

her, said,when she thought utter silence was to be maintained until their

farewells, "Have you had any more trouble from that guy who was

following you?"

"Not really," she said, and thought, why lie to him of all people? "Well,

yes, I have. Today. I won't go into it, it's a long story, but he spoke to me.

Put his face up to mine actually, right up, and said things. Oh, nothing

horrible, just compliments."

"I see." He was silent, thoughtful. "Next time that happens,next time

anything happens, will you call me? Here's my card with my mobile

number. Will you do that?"

"But you're such a long way away."

"Not that far and I'm a fast driver. Just call me. Especially at night. Don't

hesitate after dark."

"All right," she said. "Good-bye. Thank you for asking me,I've had a nice

time. You're a very good cook."

"Good night, Nerissa."

**

Shoshana looked at her e-mails before going to bed on Sundaynight.

Only one had come. It read:

Shoshana: On mature consideration I have decided phoning his chief

executive your wisest course. Teratomancy has revealed to me that this

individual's name is Desmond Pearson.I have also made you up a spell

which I am not risking on line but sending by snail mail. It is a very

effective one that cramps the object's spinal column and lasts up to one

week, though it is renewable. Yours, in the shadows, Hecate.

Very satisfactory. First thing tomorrow morning-that is,at ten, the late

hour at which these sort of people got in towork--she would phone

Desmond Pearson and tell him MixC ellini was breaking the rules by

instituting a private contract with her, and as soon as the spell arrived

she would think of ways of administering it. She could always think of

something, it was a gift she had.

Chapter 20

The lodger might be in or he might be out. For once Gwendolen had no

idea. She was too weak to bother, too sleepy to listen for his comings and

goings. That nonsense this morning, young people behaving in an

ungoverned way, as she never had,had taken it out of her. If they had all

gone as soon as she was.home, she was convinced she would by now

have been feeling much better instead of as weak as a kitten. Talking of

kittens, here had been a letter from Mr. Singh among the few that

hadcome for her, complaining that Otto had killed and eaten both his

guinea fowl. Being a peaceable man, he wrote, he didn't intend to "take

the matter further." He just wanted her to be aware of the "predatory

instincts and achievements" of her "savage pet." Meanwhile, he had

purchased two geese which would be more than a match for the

"ornithophagous beast."Gwendolen cared very little about guinea fowl or,

come to that, Otto, but she grimly contrasted this excellently educated

"native,"his use of polysyllabic words and his perfect spelling, witht he

illiterate English of the present generation. Even she wasn'te ntirely sure

if "ornithophagous" meant "bird-eating."

The rest of the post had been the electricity bill, the menuf rom a

Vietnamese takeaway, and an invitation to the opening of a new Bond

Street store. Nothing from Stephen Reeves. Perhaps he was away on

holiday. He had always gone away alot and no doubt he hadn't changed.

She would never forget,even after they were ultimately reunited she

wouldn't forget,how he had been on his honeymoon while she waited

andwaited for him to come. Wherever he was now, he'd probably be

coming back today or tomorrow.

The new orderliness in the kitchen, which she surveyed after she had

had a sleep, made her cross. What business had those two to go about

tidying her home? Now she wouldn't be able to find anything. All the

tinned food was in one cupboard, all the brushes and dusters in another.

Someone had washed the dusters, removing the encrusted grime of years

that had comfortably transformed them from yellow to gray, gray to dark

brown. Now they were more or less yellow again. She slammed the

cupboard door in disgust. And what had become of all the things she

kept in the washhouse?

The bulb in the overhead lamp had gone out. She wasn't climbing up to

change that now, not in her state of health. Olive or Queenie could do it

tomorrow. She looked for her flashlight, which should have been in the

fridge so that shecould see it when she opened the fridge door and the

lightcame on. The flashlight wasn't there and she had to hunt for it,

finally discovering it on a cupboard shelf along with some cano peners, a

screwdriver, and a box of shoe-cleaning equipment. Olive and Queenie

and their tidiness mania again. In the halfdark she lifted the lid of the

copper. It had formerly held a lot of clothes. Although just about past

wearing, these would have come in useful for tearing up for washrags

and plugging the sink, its original plug having perished years before.

Olive and Queenie had very high-handedly disposed of the lot. She shone

the beam of the torch inside, illuminating the depths.

What was that lying in the bottom? A mysterious object to Gwendolen's

eyes. At first she saw it as a sling, the kind of weapon she remembered

being taught in Sunday school that David had employed against Goliath,

then surely as a garment. A kind of truss? It looked hardly strong

enough to contain a hernia. Perhaps it was a body belt but if it was, it

lacked anything in the nature of a purse. After several attempts, she

succeededin fishing it out by means of a pole with a hook on the end of

it, originally intended for opening a skylight. She wouldshow it to Olive or

Queenie. The thing must belong to one of them.

Exhausted from her explorations, she went to bed and slept heavily till

morning.

Off to spend Sunday with friends who had a house with a rive rfrontage

at Marlow, Nerissa left her house in Rodney's car ten minutes before Mix

arrived on foot. He had read in a magazine that the thirties film star

Ramon Novarro had kept his figure by walking a mile around Hollywood

every day, holding his navel pressed as near as he could to his spine.

Emulating hi mon the fairly long walk, surely a mile, from St. Blaise

Avenuedown Ladbroke Grove and along Holland Park Avenue toCampden

Hill Square, Mix was conscious of twinges in hisback. They were nothing

like the agony he had suffered the other night and he tried to ignore

them.

Her car was parked outside. Good. He had been afraid he had started

out too late and she'd have gone out. For about halfan hour he hung

about in the square, walking down and backagain. The milk arrived and

sat on the doorstep in the full sun. She must be counting on the breeze

keeping the temperaturedown. He was wondering if she had already

taken the newspaper in when it came and was deposited on the doormat

beside the milk.

Someone would steal it and the milk as well. She'd thankhim for ringing

the doorbell and handing in the cartons andthe enormous Sunday paper.

It might even be possible for himnot to hand but to carry them in for her.

Ifhe did that she'd bebound to ask him to stay for coffee. She'd probably

be only half-dressed, in deshabille as they said. He imagined her in

ababy doll nightdress, barely covered by a diaphanous robe, and he

marched up to the door and rang the bell.

No reply. He put his ear to the grille of the entryphone. Silence.He rang

again. She wasn't in. She must have gone out onfoot, running perhaps,

or caught a train somewhere. He was bitterly disappointed. So near and

yet so far, he said to himself, going back down the steps but still

lingering in case she cameback from her run.

No one went jogging for as long as two hours. He'd try again tomorrow.

Then, walking back, he remembered that he'd better go in to work

tomorrow and he remembered too that he'd never phoned head office to

say he was ill on Friday,he hadn't phoned them at all. And he hadn't

looked for messageson his mobile or checked his answerphone. Of course

it wasn't important. If he couldn't take an afternoon off without crawling

to management like a trainee after all the years of service, who could? He