Unknown, p.14
Unknown, page 14
Allen had made the mistake of watching her, and when she looked up his eyes met hers. As if on cue, he stubbed out his cigarette and got to his feet." Uh, Cissy, do you need a lift home?"
When George came into the kitchen, his wife whispered, "So are they planning to stay all night?"
He shrugged." You know Herb-last to come, last to leave. He has that look on him, too, that philosophical-discussion look." Phylhis sighed."
But you know, I wouldn't mind him staying awhile. I'm not really tired."
"Well Tammie is, and so am I. If you two want to talk all night that's up to you. I'll put out some things in the guest room for them, but after that I'm going straight to bed." She eyed him accusingly." Of course you're not tired, you haven't been running around all day. You spent half the party hiding in the bathroom."
Back in the living room Herb greeted him with, "You know, George, what this place needs is a nice little fire. That really would have made the evening, to have a fire going."
"Yeah, but they're a lot of bother." For a minute he'd thought Herb had suggested burning the house down.
"But what's a fireplace for if you don't build a fire on a cold night?"
"To tell you the truth, I'm not even sure if this chimney works. I'll have to get somebody in to check the flue." The bare fireplace looked like an empty stage, a performer still waiting in the wings." Besides, Phyllis threw out all the firewood, and if you want any more you've got to walk half a mile to the woodshed"-he gestured toward a window- "all the way around back."
Herb stood." I'm game," he said." Just tell me where it is."
Tammie came out of the downstairs bathroom, her hair patted back into shape, the tiredness around her eyes concealed." And where do you think you're going?" she said.
" To get some firewood," said Herb." Build us a fire."
"Herb here's trying to prove he's an outdoorsman," explained George." I made fun of him earlier tonight-I mean, when you two got lost on the way here-so now he's out to show me up."
Tammie pouted." Really, honey, everyone's tired and ready for bed..
. And all of a sudden you have to build a fire?"
"I'm not tired," said Herb, on the defensive." Anyway, a stack of lumber by the andirons would brighten up some atmosphere."
"Fine," said George, in no mood to argue." You're hired. You're our new interior decorator. Now go through the kitchen, out the door to the greenhouse, but before you reach it turn right, go down the steps, and you'll see a path by the back of the house. Follow that und the garage and you'll see the woodshed, out near the hedges. aro I'm pretty sure it's unlocked."
"Better put a coat on, honey."
"I don't need it." Herb strode toward the kitchen.
"How'd you like Mike's fiancde?" asked Tammie when they were alone. She reached for a cigarette." Think she's right for him?" 'Oh, I'd met her before. She's okay. It was Ellie who introduced them, you know."
"No kidding! Where, at the beach last summer?"
"Yeah."
"And what did you think of her tonight, lecturing out of that book?"
"Oh, she just gets a little carried away with the sound of her own voice, that's all." He noticed the books she'd left on the bridge table, and went to get them. They belonged in the library; only leatherbound books for the living room." Ellie's a strong-minded woman." she bosses Milt around? When she "I'll say. Did you see how decided it was time to leave, that was it, he had to go. Just like-" She looked toward the window." Well, here comes Herb with the firewood."
"What, already? No, he must have gotten lost. Wonder why he's round the front." Taking a deep breath, he opened the green corn box.
The cards spilled out onto the table.
Phyllis entered the room, wiping her hands on a dish towel.
He turned over several minor trumps, then a picture card, The Tower.
Lightning flashed, stone walls crumbled, and beyond them raged the sea.
He pushed it to one side. Somehow he wished that Herb had not gone out ." Hey honey, did you lock the back door?" t to the front window and drew the "Not yet. Why?" She well curtains." Anybody ready for bed? I'll get some clean linen out."
"Now you're sure it's no bother?" asked Tammie. She stood.
"Herb and I can make do with these couches, you know." They heard the crunch of gravel outside.
"Nonsense! We'll go upstairs and get the room ready, and by the time we come down the men'll have a fire going." George didn't look up; he was absorbed in sorting through the cards, searching for one card in particular." And we'll all have some hot chocolate. Won't that be nice?"
From outside came a high-pitched whistling; something thudded against the door. Tammie, who was closest, walked into the front hall.
As her hand fastened on the doorknob, George gave a little gasp; he staggered back, dropping the card and what glared from it, and as she swung open the door he screamed, "No, Tammie, no!" But it was already too late; a gray shape filled the doorway, blotting out the night-and now, just as in the card, it turned to face him.
7 - Bernard Taylor - Out of Sorts
Oh, not the twentyfirst! Paul Gunn said." Whatever made you choose that date?"
"I didn't choose it. That's the day the meeting falls-third Friday in the month." Sylvia shook her head." There was nothing I could do about it."
"You could have arranged to hold the bloody thing somewhere else, couldn't you? Does it have to be here?" lilt's my turn," Sylvia said with a sigh." Besides, I'm president.- And apart from that I just wasn't thinking, I suppose. I can't be expected to remember everything."
"No, but I do expect you to remember the important things." He made a sound of exasperation." Can't you change it? It's bad enough at the best of times, but when the bloody house is filled with people-',
"It's only three days away," Sylvia said reasonab p armed it eeks ago and it's too late to alter it now." She looked at him entreatingly."
Oh, please don't be angry. You'll be all right. No one will bother you."
He refused to be entreated or pacified, though, and she watched as he angrily snatched up his newspaper, opened it unnecessarily roughly and submerged himself in its contents. End of conversation, as always.
His large, tanned hands looked very dark against the white of the paper.
It was the hair on them. Thick and black, it made his hands look larger than they were. It was probably a turn-on to some women, she thought.
Not to herself, though; not now-if it had ever been It was to Norma Russell, though, she was quite certain. Nor ma" with her model's 35 x 25 x 36 figure, her high cheek bones and sleek blonde hair. Paul's hirsute body would be just the thing to appeal to her.
If it came to looks, she reflected, it was quite obvious that she herself couldn't compete with anyone like Norma. Oh, once she'd been- pretty in a vague, mousey kind of way, but not for years now.
Well, she hadn't made any effort, had she? And why should she try, now, when there was no point?
And there was no point anymore. More than that, in her eyes it would have seemed the height of stupidity to go to the bother of dressing up when practically the only man who ever looked at you was your husband-and even when he did he didn't even see you. Yes, pointless, to say the least.
Paul, on the other hand, seemed to have grown sleeker and better looking in an over-fed kind of way over the years. Success showed clearly on him; in his clothes and his body-and his women. Yes, he did look better. That, she supposed, was what contentment and complacency did.
She shot him a look of hatred as he lounged, protected by the shield of his paper. Then she turned and went upstairs.
This place, too, was a sign of his success. Set apart in this tiny Yorkshire village of Tallowford, the house was huge and rambling, exquisitely furnished; further testimony to the years of effort he'd put ij into his engineering company, now one of the most profitable small businesses in nearby Bradford.
In her study Sylvia sat down at her elegant desk, Louis XIV, genuine.
Opening her diary she looked again at the date of the meeting. The 21st. No mistake. Then she checked over the Women's Circle committee list. There would be six of them. On the past two occasions there'd been only five-herself, Pamela Horley, Jill Marks, Janet True, and Mary Drewett. This time, though, there'd be six again. A replacement had been found for Lilly Sloane who had moved away-a replacement proposed by herself and voted in unanimously by the others: Norma Russell.
Norma, of course, had so eagerly accepted the offered place on the committee." Well, if you really want me and you think I can be of help," she'd said. But she hadn't fooled Sylvia for one minute. Sylvia knew quite well that Norma's eagerness stemmed from the fact that as every third meeting was held in the Gunns' house it could only lead to more encounters between herself and Paul…
Methodically Sylvia went through the list, telephoning the members to check that each was okay for the 21st. All except Norma. Her number was engaged. Not that Sylvia needed to worry; if there was one mem her she knew she could count on, that one was Norma.
Pushing her papers away from her she turned in her chair and looked around her. No expense had been spared in this room. The rest of the furniture was as elegant as the desk on which her elbow rested, as elegant as that in the bedroom next door-the bedroom in which she slept alone-except on those nights when Paul would come to her and use her for the release of frustrations…
That's how it had gone on. That's how it would go on-unless something was done to stop it. Oh, she was safe eno knew; gh in the continuing of her m aterial comforts. As much as Paul would like to see the back of her he'd never divorce herr even leave her. He knew which side his bread was buttered, all right. Hence the comfort in which he kept her.
And that, surely, was partly the reason for his resentment of her-the ey were irrevocably tied-in sickness and in health, for as long as they both should live-for his dependence upon her.
Why, she sometimes asked herself, didn't she leave him? But what would she do if she did? Paul wouldn't support her, and she'd been trained for no particular occupation. For the past twenty-five years she'd known only this life-marriage to a man whose gratitude for her understanding had in no time worn threadbare…
But for all that, she thought, she could have put up with it-had it not been for his affairs. One after the other they had punctuated the years of their married life. And for that she was resentful-not just because of his infidelity and his rejection of herself, but because he gave to those other women what he never gave, never had given, to herself-not after the first few months of their courtship, anyway.
They were allowed to see only the best side of him; the cheerfulness, the gentlemanliness, the solicitousness. She, through her near-total acceptance of the real person, was doomed to live with it, warts and all.
She got up from the desk and stood there in the silent room. It couldn't go on, though. And it wouldn't. No; after the 21st it wouldn't be the same. Come the 21st there'd be some changes made. Norma Russell would be the last, she'd make sure of that. After Norma there wouldn't be any more affairs.
When she got downstairs she found Paul on the phone. He started slightly when she suddenly appeared before him and said shakily into the receiver, voice thick with guile and not a little guilt:
"Well, Frank, I think we ought to leave it until our meeting next week. … we can discuss it fully then…" And Sylvia smiled to herself as she went by him, realizing why Norma's telephone had been engaged, and at the realization that they thought she was so easily fooled. Not she. Frank, indeed. She was a lot smarter than they dreamed. Certainly a damn sight smarter than that vacuous, simpering Norma with her Gucci shoes, Charlie perfume, and Dior sunglasses.
Norma Russell, with her sophisticated approach and smug, know -it-all manner, didn't know it all by any means.
Not yet. She would in time.
Paul left his office early that Friday, came into the house and flopped down onto the sofa saying he had a headache. Sylvia guessed well enough how he was feeling, but any sympathy she once might have felt for him had long ago vanished.
They ate an early dinner and as soon as it was over he went upstairs to the attic. Sylvia followed after a while, quietly opened the door and looked in. He was sound asleep. Backing out again, she turned the key and pushed home the bolts. For a second she listened but no sound came to her through the heavy oak door. She turned and went back downstairs to get ready for the meeting.
The women all arrived within a few minutes of each other around eight o'clock, and with the coffee already made they got down fairly quickly to the business of the evening. That business was the forthcoming summer f&te and the Women's Circle part in it. The discussion went smoothly, and so it should have, for each of them-with the exception of Norma-had helped organise a dozen similar events in the past.
Finally it was all sorted out and Sylvia summed up the results of their discussion.
All right then," she said, "I think that's it. So you, Pam, and you, Janet, will get together and organise the refreshments and the baking competition. And you, Jill and Mary, will work on the jumble." Smi]ing at Norma-who returned the smile-she went on: "And that leaves Norma and me to take care of the Fancy Goods and the white elephant stall. Is that okay?"
The next forty minutes were spent in drinking more coffee and generally talking over the finer points of their various tasks. There was much talk of "willing hands" and "helpers" and "generous donors"; various names were bandied about, and there were the endlessly expressed hopes that on the day the weather would be kind to them.
Sylvia began to get the feeling that the meeting would never end; never before had the conversation of her friends seemed quite so meaningless.
But there, never before had she herself had quite such erious matters on her mind.
At last, though, it was nine-forty-five. The meeting was over. As they all got up to go, chattering their goodnights, Sylvia caught at Norma's sleeve, saying, "Oh, Norma-are you in a particular hurry to get away-?"
"No, why?" Norma's expression of eagerness-to-please didn't fool Sylvia for one moment. Now she was like a cat that had found the cream; not only had she been voted onto the committee but she had furthermore been chosen to work closely with Sylvia. From now on she'd have a cast-iron excuse for phoning or calling at the house at practically any time.
Sylvia smiled as sweetly and as naturally as she could under the circumstances." I was just wondering whether you'd care to stay behind for a little while so that we can go over-in more detail-a few of the things you and I will be looking after "Of course. I'd be glad to. Anytime at all, Sylvia-you just let me know." She'd picked up her bag but now she set it down again at the side of the sofa. when the other members had all gone out into the night Sylvia came back into the sitting room. As she sat down Norma said to her:
"I suppose Paul hates being around when these-these hen parties are in session, doesn't he?"
Sylvia nodded." Loathes it, my dear. Absolutely."
" Does he-err get back late…?"
Oh, thought Sylvia, so obviously Norma had told Paul that she'd be coming to the meeting-and it was equally obvious that he'd told her he'd be out somewhere. Well, that was understandable." I'm sorry?" Sylvia asked, "-what did you ask me?"
"Paul-does he usually stay out late when you have your meetings?"
"Oh, yes, usually he does. Not tonight, though And that, she thought, should get her going. It did.
"Oh," said Norma, "-is there something different about toight?" She sounded very casual.
"Yes, the poor dear didn't go out. He can't. He's just not up to it."
Sylvia watched, hiding the pleasure she felt as a look of concern flashed into Norma's green eyes.
"Is he ill?" Norma asked.
"No, no-just a little out of sorts."
"Oh, what a shame. Perhaps you should have phoned and cancelled the meeting. Won't he have been disturbed by all our chatter down here?"
Sylvia shook her head." No, he won't have heard a thing. He's up in the attic. In his den, as he calls it. He's got a bed up there-well away from it all. It's much the best place for him at a time like this, when he's not himself. Anyway-" She pulled her note pad towards her as if to signify that it was time for them to get on with their work.
Then, suddenly, with a look of dismay, she dropped her pencil and clapped her hand to her mouth." Oh, my God!" she said.
"What's the matter?" Norma stared at her in surprise. Her concernlooked genuine.
"I think I'm losing my mind," Sylvia said." It's going, I swear it's going. My memory. Oh, dear!"
"What's up?"
"I promised faithfully that I'd drop a few little things over to Mrs Harrison this afternoon. She can't get out, what with her leg, and she's got her daughter coming for lunch tomorrow. I did all her shopping for her this afternoon-and it's still out there in the kitchen." She glanced at the clock." Just ten o'clock. I'll bet she's been expecting me all day. How dreadful." She sat as if pondering for a moment then said: "I know she doesn't go to bed till quite late…
I think I'll just give her a ring and then take the stuff round. I shall't get a chance in the morning, I know Even as she finished speaking Sylvia was opening her address book and looking up Mrs Harrison's number. She dialled it and Mrs Harrison answered almost immediately. She sounded so pleased to hear Sylvia's voice. No, she said, she hadn't been in bed; she was watching the telly darts championship-adding with a little giggle that she quite liked big men. Refusing to take no for an answer Sylvia then said that she was going to get straight on her bike and bring the groceries round. After all, it was only two miles and no one ever came to harm in Tallowford.
Sylvia had put on her coat and was picking up the basket before she seemed to remember that Norma was still there.
"Oh, Norma, my dear," she said." After asking you to stay behind I now go rushing off like this. I do apologise. Whatever must you think of me?"
