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.He stood at the window until his sister disappeared and sleep fell upon me once more.I kept the window closed.I accepted ice on the inside and ice on the outside of the windows.I accepted the stark beauty of winter fields.I accepted the Boxing Day walk around the village with Maggie and my father.I accepted my balcony ghost and my wardrobe ghost.I accepted turkey sandwiches, turkey curry and rejected more turkey sandwiches.Two weeks after Christmas, Maggie returned to London, and following my sister’s advice, I went to the pub and found myself a job.A Tray in Both Hands‘Right, remember, Rebecca, keep it hot—no one likes food that’s gone cold.And don’t spill anything, he hates it all sloppy.’ Amanda handed me a plate of food; she was always doing ten things at once and today was no different.On the plate was one of the Dog’s homemade pies, with thick crusty pastry and a pastry leaf on top.‘I’ll show you how to do that one day if you like, once you’ve got the hang of it.’‘Sure.’ I was dressed in my pub uniform, black skirt, black tights, white shirt (all Maggie’s clothes apart from the shoes, and I hadn’t asked her because she wasn’t here to ask), pub apron over the top.For once I blessed my bouncy shoes as they were proving to be very comfortable to wear.I could bounce along in them for hours.There was a jug of gravy sitting on the side of the plate and a huge pile of beans and carrots next to the mashed potato.Onto the tray went a white linen serviette folded in a napkin holder.‘Now this is Alex’s own, silver and bone it is.’I couldn’t bring myself to be quite as excited as Amanda was over a serviette holder, but give me a few days, Amanda, and I’ll try.If only you knew Amanda, how he had kissed me by the back door.‘Only a gentleman has his own serviette holder, Rebecca, it’s a traditional thing.Don’t you have serviettes in your house when you all sit down to dinner?’‘No, I don’t think we do.’ I didn’t think Alex March was a gentleman though, did I?‘Maybe your mother keeps them for Sunday best.’Maybe, maybe not, I think the latter is true.She plonked a bottle of red wine on the tray then thrust the tray into my waiting hands.‘Power’s been off since nine o’clock this morning, so he says.Poor thing.Wonder why he’s affected and not us? Now, no matter what he says, don’t be long.’Amanda straightened up, smoothed her hands on the front of her white apron, and pretty well shoved me through the swing doors at the front of the pub.‘Don’t bother knocking, just go straight through.Jojo’s all right, just call out so he hears you.’‘He won’t bite me if I just turn up will he?’‘Jojo? ’Course not.Go on then, off you go.’When I reached the front door of the manor house I opened it and yelled out, ‘Lunch is here!’From somewhere inside the house a voice replied, ‘Left after the kitchen.’Everything looked so different to the night of the party.No tables, no glasses, no champagne, just a long dark corridor leading somewhere.I was being watched by all the people in the paintings.Hello again, hello, hello, now I am a servant not a guest, nice to see you.The kitchen was full of dirty wine glasses.The long table was covered in newspapers, half-eaten pieces of toast and empty wine bottles.On the other side of the room was a door and, obediently turning left through it, I walked into a large familiar room where only a few weeks earlier we had all been eating and drinking.Alexander March stood facing a large canvas resting on an easel, his back to me, as I walked in.Straggly pieces of hair curled about his shoulders.His trousers were spattered with paint and his shirt was half undone and hanging over his trousers.Compared with the last time I had seen him he looked wild, dishevelled.An animal dressed as a human.He spoke over his shoulder.‘Did you know there’s not enough electricity in the whole of bloody England for my lunch? Unbelievable.’‘Where d’you want this?’‘Rebeccah Budde, we meet again.How are you?’He picked the knife up from the tray and pointed to a small round table then glanced back at the canvas.I put the tray on the table and stood looking at the painting.‘What do you think?’ He pointed with the tip of the knife.‘What’s it meant to be?’‘It’s not meant to be anything, it is already something.’The canvas had a dark painted background of trees and leaves, and in the foreground there was an unfinished table with a dead rabbit hanging from it.‘It’s very dark.’He stared at the canvas for a while.‘Maybe not dark enough.I’m not sure about this one yet.Now where’s my lunch? I’m bloody starving.’He nodded to a dilapidated chair where his brown dog was curled up snoozing.‘Turf him off.’‘Come on, Jojo.’ I patted him.Jojo lifted his large intelligent head and sniffed the air.‘Not for you I’m afraid,’ and I pulled his ears and stroked his neck.Alex pulled up an old leather chair which had clearly seen better days, sat himself down and started to eat.‘He likes you,’ he said, taking a mouthful of pie.‘I like him.What type of dog is he?’‘Weimaraner,’ he said with his mouth full.‘German hunting dog; a friend gave him to me.Good-looking, isn’t he?’Jojo had pale blue eyes with a large head and sleek light brown fur.He was lovely to behold.The dog looked up at him eagerly.‘I can’t be long, it’s lunchtime.’‘Amanda can do without you for five minutes.’There were all sorts of animal smells and paint smells waltzing around the room.He opened the wine, and poured himself a large glass.‘Want some?’‘No thanks.’‘Have some.’There was an empty glass on the table.He poured wine into that and handed it to me.‘Do you good.’He ate ravenously, as if he hadn’t seen food for a week.There was a dead rabbit hanging off the edge of a table at the far end of the room.Its lifeless eyes and dull fur seemed out of place with the pile of vibrant fruit piled up next to it.I took a sip of wine and went to inspect the rabbit.‘Don’t touch anything,’ he growled.‘Did you catch it yourself?’He shook his head and nodded to the dog.‘Great rabbit hunter he is.’‘I really have to go.Enjoy your lunch.’ I put my unfinished glass of wine down on the table next to his tray.He poured the contents into his own glass and raised it to me.‘Why are you so eager to rush off?’‘I’m working.’He looked at me as if he didn’t understand the language.‘You’re not one for staying anywhere long, are you? Go on then.Bugger off.’The dog padded out beside me, through the kitchen, down the hallway and out the front door.I was relieved to be out of that house.The dovecotes were empty.Where had all the doves gone? He kissed them all and drove them away.I thought of his mouth as he ate, and the sharp tip of his knife pointed at me.Amanda was in a lousy mood when I got back to the pub.‘Twenty minutes? Rebecca, we’re really busy, I need you here and I told you not to be long.Where’s the tray?’ she demanded.‘You’re meant to bring it back.We need all our trays.When he’s finished you’ll have to fetch the serviette holder, we keep it here, and the plate, he’s always losing things.’‘He offered me a glass of wine.’‘You didn’t take it did you?’‘No.’‘Well, all right, finish off in here now.You’ll have to go back and get those things later.’The sink gleamed with filth and glasses and leftover food.I rolled up my sleeves and plunged my hands into the hot steamy water.When I was done I walked back to the manor house
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Tematy
IndexChristine Amsden [Cassie Scot Cassie Scot ParaNormal Detecti
Christie Craig [Divorced, Des Divorced, Desperate
Moore Christopher Ssij, mała, ssij (II)
Stasheff, Christopher Wizard in Rhyme 6 Haunted Wizard
Christine Feehan Mroczna Seri Mroczny Demon
Cidney Swanson [Saving Mars Saving Mars (epub)
Stasheff, Christopher Rogue Wizard 04 A Wizard in Peace
Feehan Christine Mroczna Seria 01 Mroczny Ksišże
Stasheff, Christopher Warlock 01 The Warlock in Spite of Himself
Christine Feehan Mroczna Seria 13 Mroczne Przeznaczenie