Читать книгу The Blind Side - Dora Amy Elles - Страница 9

Table of Contents

It was Peter’s habit to sleep deeply and dreamlessly until (a) somebody waked him—and it took a bit of doing—or (b) an alarm clock went off in his ear. The alarm clock was in the bedroom, and it would go off in Mavis’s ear at six o’clock, because he had intended to go out and swim before breakfast. And at six o’clock of an August morning it was broad daylight. So when he waked up a second time in the dark he felt very much annoyed. Not a single gleam of light came through the two open and uncurtained windows. It was stiflingly hot, and the cushions smelt of feathers dust and dye, and he had a crick in his neck.

He got up and stretched himself, and as he did so he heard the latch of the outer door click home. Peter could move very quickly. He was hot, stiff, and sticky, but he reached the hall and had the light on all in a flash. There was a scurry and a scream, and there was Mavis at the bedroom door. But she wasn’t coming out. She was trying to get in—and hide. She was still in her silver dress and her silver shoes. She had one hand at her throat, and in the other she clasped the little silver bag which he had seen lying beside her on a table at the Ducks and Drakes. Her eyes stared with fright and all her colour had gone.

“What do you think you’re doing?” said Peter in a rasping voice.

She kept on staring. Her tongue came out and touched her lips. She said in a whisper,

“N-nothing.”

“Why did you go out of the flat?”

She moistened her lips again.

“I didn’t.”

“Have it your own way, but I heard you come in.”

She let go of her throat and caught at the door jamb.

“I dropped my bag. It’s got all my money. I went to look for it.”

“Back to Ross’s flat?”

“N-no. I didn’t. It was on the landing.”

“Where?”

“Just by the door. It’s got all my money. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I’m sure you didn’t. Are you going out again?”

“N-no, Peter.” She took her hand suddenly from the jamb and retreated.

“Then go to bed and stay there!”

Mavis shut the door with alacrity. How awful of him to wake up like that—how perfectly awful!

She put the silver bag down on Aunt Mary’s bow-fronted chest of drawers with the ivory escutcheons. Then, as she turned away, she caught sight of herself in the long mirror on the opposite wall. She half cried out, and stood a long time with her eyes fixed.

At last she moved. She looked down, and began to tremble. It wasn’t a trick of the light. It was really there—a red soaked patch just under her left knee. How horrible!

She caught up the silver stuff and held it away from her. The stain was about two inches across. Not so very large—and the dress was torn already.

She went over to the dressing-table. There would be nail-scissors—Peter was bound to have a pair of nail-scissors—and she could cut the stain out and nobody would know. Unless Peter ... But the jamb had been on her left and she had been leaning up against it—and why should he look down at her knee? Oh, he wouldn’t—

She had to cut away more than she expected, because the blood had smeared and spread. Then she stood with the piece of stuff in her hand and wondered what she was going to do with it. She didn’t dare open her door again in case Peter was listening.

She found matches on the mantelpiece, and used the whole box before she could persuade the heavy, wet stuff to burn. Even so some of the little tinsel threads were left, but she pushed them right away under the grate, and felt sure that no one would notice them there. Then she stripped off the ruined dress and rolled it into a ball. There were still some of Aunt Mary’s clothes in the flat, and she would just have to find something that would cover her up until she could get to Isabel. It didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered except that she was here and she was safe.

She kicked off her shoes, lay down on the bed, and went fast asleep.

The Dresden china clock on the sitting-room mantelpiece struck three.