herself.
‘Can’t imagine a grand businessman like your husband taking to an old dump like Sepp Yaxley’s. I’d ’a’ thought he’d want a five-star hotel!’
‘He likes curious old things. Like me.’
‘I wouldn’t ’a’ called you a curious old thing, missus!’
They had reached the beach, and he turned and surveyed her with an up-and-down admiration that was pure insult. ‘So what kind of curious old things do you like? What do you get up to, in Richmond? What’s in for the jet-set these days? Still wife-swapping down there? Or isn’t that good enough any more? Black magic rituals? Witches’ covens? Dancing naked on the back lawn? That’s what you read in the papers . . .’
Rose could scarcely believe her ears. Rose, whose idea of a pleasant social gathering was listening to a friend’s clever daughter from the Royal College of Music playing Chopin on the piano.
Her patent amazement must have pierced even his stupidity. His eyes dropped; for once, he was silent. She stared wildly at the breaking waves on the beach. Whatever had possessed him to bring up the topic of black magic?
He almost seemed to pick up her question out of the air, as if she had spoken out loud.
‘It’s just what you read in the papers,’ he said, almost humbly, as if aware he had dropped a clanger and wanting to make up for it. Or cover it up.
‘I’m afraid I don’t read that type of newspaper,’ she said frostily.
‘So you are a reader, then? Interested in books? Old books, mebbe?’
‘Jane Austen,’ she said. ‘Virginia Woolf, Iris Murdoch. Good biographies.’ She took a delight in the fact that he hadn’t a clue what she was talking about. ‘Highbrow stuff,’ she added viciously. Put the lout in his place while you could.
But he just stared at the horizon and said, ‘I hear old Sepp Yaxley was a great reader . . .’
‘He had a lot of books.’ It seemed a safer topic of conversation.
‘Old Nathan Gotobed said you’d found one o’ Sepp’s. He saw you readin’ it . . .’
God, how gossip got around in this village! So it had been that book that had frightened Mr. Gotobed. Well, at least she could use gossip in reverse now, to her own advantage.
‘Oh, that,’ she said, with an attempt at a light laugh. ‘I couldn’t make head nor tail of it. I just found it while I was dusting. I was curious, that’s all.’
He swung round to face her. ‘So it meant nowt to you,then?’
‘Not a thing. It was in some sort of shorthand. I can’t read shorthand.’
‘Can I borrow it? I used to be able to read shorthand. I took a bit at nightschool.’ His eyes, an unpleasant gooseberry colour, were suddenly avid. For the first time, she realised what he was after. And it wasn’t her. A huge wave of relief swept over her, and with it, a little tinge of ridiculous pique.
‘Oh, it wasn’t that sort of shorthand. Not evening-class shorthand. I know the look of that.’
‘Look,’ he said fiercely. ‘Let me borrow it. I’ll give it you back safe . . .’
‘It’s not mine to give. It belongs to Miss Yaxley. You’ll have to ask her.’
‘Don’t be such a fool.’ In his avidity he had grasped her wrist, hurting it. ‘You give me that book, you’ll have no more bother . . .’
For once, she was able to look him in the face, as she struggled to free her wrist. What on earth did he want the book for? She was sure he wouldn’t be able to read it.
‘Would you mind letting go of my wrist? You’re hurting me. And what do you mean, bother . . . ?’ She managed to snatch her wrist free.
‘You don’t know this lot round here like I know them. They’re like nobody you ever met. They think us London people are fools . . . they’re peasants, this lot. Medieval peasants . . .’ There was so much bitterness in his voice, and it was not directed at her. It was directed at the people he lived with. Maybe at the wife who could dismiss him to fetch a case of Lilt, send him away like a kicked cur. Suddenly she felt a little sorry for him, a fellow-Londoner marooned on this lonely coast.
Perhaps he saw her eyes soften. Because it made him grab her again, by both wrists this time.
‘Please!’ she cried. ‘You’re hurting!’ She struggled.
There was a slight choofing chug from somewhere on her right, somewhere inland,