Ruth Rendell - Thirteen Steps Down

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.

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.