Ruth Rendell - The Thief

At twenty to seven the upstairs light in his house went out. The two downstairs lights stayed on, the one in the front room and the one she could see in his hallway, through the glass panel above the front door. She drew a deep breath, sick with waiting. Her hands were cold as ice. It seemed like hours before that front room light went out. In fact it was ten minutes. She thought, he must go now, please let him go now, or I shall be late and then what shall I say to Alex?

I could phone him. I could phone my mother. And say what? That I’m stuck in a traffic jam? I can’t leave here now, not when he’ll come out at any minute. His hallway light stayed on. Maybe he left it on when he went out. People did that, she did that, to make burglars think someone was at home. The only thief here was herself…

The front door opened and he came out. She thought, now I know for sure it’s him. I wasn’t quite sure before but now I know. In the light from a street lamp and the glass panel above his front door, she saw he was wearing the same black suit with a camel coat over it. His shirt was red, his tie red and black. He didn’t look her way but got into his car, started the engine and turned on the headlights. It was three minutes to seven when he drove away.

She didn’t waste any time but got out of her car, walked quickly across the street and up to the front door. On the doorstep she thought, maybe someone is in and they’ll come to the door when I open the letter box. Trying to be very quiet, she pushed open the flap and put the first envelope in. No one came. There was silence. The other envelopes next, one, two, three. She thought she heard a sound from inside and her hand shook again, the way it had from the cold. Maybe there was no one there. He could have a dog or a cat that made that noise. She waited, listened. Nothing. She put the rest of the envelopes through, heard the last of them fall on to the mat.

It was five past seven.

Almost at once she moved into that build-up of traffic she meant to tell Alex about. But she was late already. Every traffic light turned red as she came up to it. The line of cars went very slowly. A light that was red for the first car had turned red again by the time she got there. In horror she watched the hand of the clock move from twenty past to twenty-five past. Lurching and jumping over the speed bumps, she reached home at twenty-five to eight. The front door was open. Alex was waiting for her on the step.

He said nothing, only shook his head a little. She ran upstairs, changed into a long skirt and sweater, combed her hair, and was in the car with him three minutes later.

‘I phoned your mother,’ he said, his voice cold. ‘I said we’d be late. I didn’t know how late.’

‘I can explain,’ she said. ‘The traffic was terrible. I was as quick as I could be.’

He didn’t reply. She thought, I wonder if he phoned Louise. I can’t ask. I can never ask. The worst is over, anyway. I’ve given Lant back his money. Tomorrow I’ll wash his clothes and iron them and on Monday morning I’ll send them back. I’ll never go near Bristol Road again. I’ll never steal anything again or lie again or drink again, not when all this is over.

As he drove Alex said, ‘Someone phoned. A man. It was about half an hour after you went out. He said he was the Komodo dragon and then he put the phone down.’

She thought she would scream and put her hand over her mouth to stop herself. Alex had his eyes on the road. ‘I don’t much care for jokes like that,’ he said. ‘The Komodo dragon is great, a wonderful big lizard, not something to make you laugh or shudder.’

Polly’s voice came out like a squeak. ‘I don’t know who it was,’ she lied.

‘Maybe it was a wrong number. We seem to get a lot of those lately, don’t we?’

He didn’t speak another word all the way to her parents’ house. He frowned when her father handed her a big glass of wine almost as soon as they were inside. She thought of Lant calling her an alcoholic. Did it mean you were an alcoholic if you needed a drink as much as she did? I did drink a lot on that flight, she thought. Alex hardly drinks at all. If we’re always going to be together – and we are, please, we always are – I must drink less. I’ll keep to what I said and drink my last glass at my wedding.

But she gulped down the wine. That was the second time Lant had phoned but, if Alex was right, the call had been made before she gave the money back. He would leave her alone now he had his money. He’d forget her, put all this behind him.

Her mother had made a big meal for them. Leek and potato soup first, then roast lamb, then a lemon tart. Before she took the money back Polly wouldn’t have been able to eat. She could now, in spite of that second phone call. Lant had only called because he wanted his money. She was hungry and her father was refilling her wineglass to the brim.

Alex was talking now about the film they’d seen, telling her parents they ought to see it. Polly could remember nothing about it. She might as well not have been there. Then her father said something which made her blush and stare.

‘You seem to have had a busy day, Polly. I saw you in Willesden this morning. I hooted and waved but you were lost in a dream.’

Deny it? A man doesn’t mistake someone else for his own daughter.

‘I didn’t see you, Dad,’ she said, not daring to look at Alex.

She remembered the black car which had hooted at her. She had thought it was her bad driving. Finishing the wine in her glass she thought, I would like to drink myself drunk, to sleep, not to have to drive home with Alex.

But she had to. As they moved out on to the road, he said, ‘We have to talk, Polly.’

‘Do we?’

‘When we get home.’

I’ve never loved him so much as I do now, she thought, already in a panic. I love him. I can’t lose him. He was going to ask me to marry him. Will he ask me now?

At home he said to her, in a voice she had never heard before, a voice that was cold and distant, ‘I suppose you’ll want another drink?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I’ve had too much.’

‘At least you know it and that’s something. Sit down then.’ He sat facing her and took both her hands in his. ‘A lot of strange things have been going on. Let’s talk about it.’

Feeling her hands held in his made her feel better at once. ‘Talk about what?’

‘Well, I believed your story about falling asleep on the bus. But I don’t believe it now. You said you were shopping this morning, but your dad saw you in Willesden. And this evening. You didn’t go to Louise’s. Louise told me on Friday she was away for the weekend. She was just leaving when I phoned. And then there was that fool who said he was the Komodo dragon. What’s going on, Polly?’

‘Nothing’s going on. Really and truly. It’s nothing.’

He kept hold of her hands. ‘Are you seeing someone else?’

‘Oh, no, of course not. Of course I’m not.’

‘Sure? I’d rather know now.’

‘There’s nothing to know. I promise you. I love you, Alex. There couldn’t be anyone else, not ever.’

‘It’s just that when you went to New York to Lizzie’s wedding I thought, I could go too but she won’t want me. If she’d wanted me, why didn’t she ask? Is she meeting some man in New York? Is he coming back with her? And then when I met you at Heathrow you were so pleased to see me, you looked so happy, I thought I must be wrong.’

‘You were wrong,’ she said. ‘You’d been so generous, buying me a ticket in club class. I was so grateful that I didn’t want to go and leave you.’ She clutched at his hands, lifted them to her lips and kissed them. ‘I’ve never known you jealous before.’

‘Oh, I was. I always was. I didn’t let you see, that’s all.’