Читать книгу Ostrich Country - David Nobbs - Страница 8

Pegasus arrived to find that he was staying not in the hotel but at Rose Lodge, a little early Victorian lodge cottage at the back of the village, on the entrance to Lord Noseby’s estate. In the car on the way over from the hotel Patsy explained that the staff quarters were full because there was Tonio, the assistant chef, living in and Bellamy the porter and Miss Coward the receptionist and part-time barmaid and also Patsy herself because her aunt had come to stay with them while her uncle was in hospital which looked likely to drag on for some time on account of his liver. Bill Gunter was Lord Noseby’s gamekeeper, but his wife Brenda was Patsy’s co-waitress, so it wouldn’t be like being with strangers.

Brenda Gunter greeted Pegasus warmly. She was a pretty woman with good sharp features, trim legs and a fine figure. She led him up the narrow stairs to his bedroom.

‘I hope this is all right,’ she said, embarrassed, turning red. ‘I was going to remove these books and toys, but I haven’t got round to it yet.’

‘Oh, that’s all right, Mrs Gunter.’

‘Brenda, please. The bathroom’s straight opposite. You’ll have breakfast here and your meals over at the hotel. Come down and have some tea when you’re cleaned up.’

‘Thank you.’

Left to himself, Pegasus examined his room. It was small, and there was just one window, looking out over a lawn surrounded by masses of roses. There were roses everywhere. The cottage was grasped in innumerable rosy hands, whose colours softened but could not hide its Victorian earnestness.

The ceiling sloped sharply to the right so that there were only about eighteen inches of headroom above the bed on the side nearest the wall. On the other side of the room, where the ceiling was higher, there was a bookcase and three boxes of toys. Pegasus could see a Monopoly set, Snakes and Ladders, stumps and a cricket bat, a lorry, a bus, a few pieces of rail. The bookcase contained Winnie the Pooh, The House at Pooh Corner, a large number of very worn Biggles books, and three copies of Mr Midshipman Easy.

He went across to the bathroom, apprehensive now. The hot tap was noisy. He had expected to be a part of the hotel, wrapped in its busy ordered life. Now in this cottage he seemed very unimportant, his degree counting for nothing. The late April sky was hostile and windy, with high grey clouds and patches of cold, hard blue. The silence was deafening. When a car went past it was a wound, and a plane was a hysterical gash. He hadn’t realized how much he had been looking forward to seeing the landlady, how much he dreaded meeting the husband she was bound to have.

Soap under the armpits never failed to revive him at least a little, and he felt better by the time he went downstairs for his tea, in the small kitchen-cum-dining-room-cum-living-room. Brenda sat by the electric fire with her legs crossed, revealing a large amount of impersonal thigh, apparently unaware of this. Behind her was an ironing board on which stood a large pile of underclothes.

‘Bill isn’t back yet,’ she said. ‘I think the pheasants must be proving troublesome.’

‘I’m not turning a child out of his room, am I?’ said Pegasus, over his bread and jam and tea.

‘Oh no, that’s all right,’ said Brenda, reddening again, unevenly, blotchily. ‘No. You see, actually, I’m afraid our little boy was killed.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry.’

‘Well it was three weeks ago. We’re over the worst now.’

‘Yes, but still … I mean, are you sure …’

‘That we want to have you? Very much.’

‘Well, er …’

‘If you don’t mind.’

‘No. No, I don’t mind.’

‘Have another cup of tea.’

‘Thank you.’

‘He was knocked down by a car. They didn’t stop. He was twelve.’

‘But honestly are you absolutely …’

‘Oh yes. Very much.’

‘Well, then, I … I’m sure I shall be very comfortable here.’

‘I must move all those books and toys.’

After his tea Pegasus sat in his room until it was past opening time. There was nothing else to do, so he glanced at some of the books, imagining the dead boy reading them. He was glad when it was time to go out.

He walked over to the Goat and Thistle, trying not to hurry, wandering round the village in the fading light. A few old houses, one shop, a pub. He hoped she would be alone, and that it wasn’t bad form for employees to drink in the bar.

A bat near him, horrible. Nobody about. The main road, relatively main anyway, hardly any traffic. There was the hotel. Nerves. Quite ridiculous. Excitement. Sex. Gables. Porch. Warmth. Light. Voices. Smoke.

A man was serving, presumably her husband. Slightly fat, big face, strong. Hot temper? Unreliable? Receding hair, ha, ha, sandy in colour. An ex motor cycle enthusiast? It was more than possible.

She entered the bar, slight and lovely. He felt as if he was on a big dipper. He must look casual.

‘You’ve arrived,’ she said.

‘Yes, I’ve arrived.’

‘This is my husband, Tony. Tony, this is the new vegetable chef.’

Greetings. Was he imagining a slight hostility?

He thought of Paula. She seemed so distant now, yet not so distant that he no longer thought of her. He had been to the seat, to say good-bye to it, to put all that behind him.

‘I hope you’ll be all right with the Gunters,’ said Tony.

‘Oh, I expect so.’

‘Brenda’s staff so it won’t be like being with strangers.’

‘No.’

‘They’ve had a spot of bad luck. Did they tell you?’

‘Yes, they did.’

‘Hope you’ll be comfortable anyway.’

Did Tony suspect? Not that there was anything to suspect. Pegasus felt secretly attracted to his wife. He had felt secretly attracted to people’s wives before. It was part of being alive. He had foolishly dreamt that the wife … well, it wasn’t the first time he had foolishly dreamt that a wife … but she wasn’t. They never were. Nevertheless he wondered if Tony suspected anything.

He went home early, not wanting to seem like an alcoholic. Bill was there, short, wiry, grim, quiet, but seemingly benevolent. Like a jockey. He was invited in for cocoa, and felt obliged to go. They switched the telly off, which was a shame. Conversation not too bad, though, despite the dead boy. Facts. Population. Number of pheasants. Brief discussion of rodent life. A short anecdote concerning a badger. Brief character studies of Lord and Lady Noseby. Comparison of country and city life. Not too bad, but what of future conversations when the facts are exhausted? Must go to bed. Rather sleepy. Don’t want to be tired on my first day. Good night.

But sleep wouldn’t come. Everything was too familiar. The dead child was too real. He dreaded his first day’s work. He heard everything, even the sea, two miles away, hissing quietly to itself. At three the wind got up, and bangings and groanings began all over the cottage, magnified by the absence of traffic. The boy sleeping comfortably here in this bed that last of all his nights. At 3.15 a.m. an owl hooted, twice. At 3.17 the rain began, and it was the rain that eventually lulled him into an uneasy sleep.