The Stranger Came (4 page)

In
fact
–
not
a
student,
only
a
stranger
after
all
–
admit
it,
the
girl
was
almost
beautiful.

'Not
too
long,'
the
girl
said.
'Not
as
bad
as
the
porter made
out.’

'They
like
a
bit
of
bad
news
to
pass
on.’

'Do
you
think
so?'
The
girl
shook
back
her
hair,
a
movement
which
would
have
been
natural
if
it
had
been
worn
long,
but
with
a
crop
cut
short
seemed
affected.
Perhaps
it
was
a
style
she
had
taken
to
only
recently.
'I
thought
he
was
all
right.’

'Once
he
detached
himself
from
the
phone.’

'From
the
phone?
No,
the
porter –
I
meant
the
porter.’
And
neither
of
them
smiled
at
the
confusion.
Normally, she
would
have,
she
was
sure
of
that.
The
difference
she
felt
came
from
the
girl.
The
girl
seemed
to
her
with
that
habitual
gesture,
as
if
shaking
back
long
blonde
hair,
and
those
moments
when
her
pretty
features
went
quite
blank
with
self-absorption,
someone
whom
it
would
be
easy
to
dislike.

At
once,
she
reproached
herself
with
being
unfair.

'I
must
get
some
Sunday
papers,'
she
said.
'After
travelling,
my
husband
will
be
looking
forward
to
a
quiet
afternoon.’

In
the
kiosk,
she
gathered
up
Scotland on Sunday
,
the
Observer
,
the
Times
,
and
went
back
with
them
to
the
car.

Piling
the
fat
wads
of
sections
like
bricks
into
the
boot,
she
saw
how
the
newsprint
had
streaked
her
hands
with
dirt.
For
a
vague
staring
moment,
she
wondered
how
many
trees
had
been
pulped
to
make
this
bundle
laid
neatly
to
one
side
to
leave
room
for
Maitland's
luggage.
Leaves
bunched
and
rising
towards
the
light
,
living
things
needing
to
survive
at
any
cost
…

As
she
crossed
the
concourse,
people
began
to
stream
around
the
corner
of
the
booking
hall
towards
her.
Leaning
against
the
weight
of
cases,
they
had
the
crumpled
appearance
of
overnight
travellers.
That
fool
of
a
man's
got
the
time
wrong,
she
thought.
I'll
miss
Maitland;
he'll
be
into
a
taxi
and
gone
before
I
find
him.
She
was
swept
by
a
flush
of
anger
and
then
by
a
panic
so
excessive
it
made
her
afraid.
If
she
missed
him,
it
wouldn't
be
the
end
of
the
world.
When
she
got
back,
they
would
laugh
about
it.
It
would
become
one
of
Maitland's
stories,
and
then
but
more
richly
she
would
be
a
sharer
in
the
event.
As
for
blaming
any
of
it
on
the
girl,
what
could
be
more
unreasonable?
Yet
if
she
had
been
alone,
she
would
not
have
chosen
that
moment
to
go
for
the
papers.
It
did
seem,
after
all,
as
if
it
was
the
girl
who
had
spoiled
mysteriously
all
the
morning's
bright
anticipations.

She
saw
Maitland
first
and
then
with
an
unpleasant little
shock
the
girl
and
that
he
was
talking
to
her.
The
third
figure
in
the
group
registered
only
vaguely;
a
man,
and
one
smaller
in
stature
than
either
of
his
companions.

Seeing
her,
Maitland
smiled
and
waved.
'Always
faithful,'
he
said.
'My
wife
Lucy,'
he
said
to
the
girl;
and
then
to
her,
'Miss
Lindgren
tells
me
you've
already
met.’

'Miss
Lindgren?
But
how –
Didn't
you
say –'

'Oh,
yes.’
The
girl
smiling
covered
her
mouth
with
her
hand
for
a
moment.
'You
guessed
right
when
you
thought
I
might
be
a
student.
Actually
in
one
of
the
Professor's
classes.
I've
always
been
lucky.’

'But
your
brother?'
The
last
stragglers
were
lingering
up from
the
platform.
In
a
moment,
their
little
group
would
be
left
behind
alone.
'Oh,
of
course,'
and
she
smiled
at
the man
full
of
the
warmth
of
relief,
'how
obtuse
of
me.
This gentleman
must
be –'

All
three
of
them
joined
in
the
laugh
against
her,
the man,
the
girl
Miss
Lindgren,
even
Maitland.

'Nobody's
brother,'
the
man
said.
'Sorry.’

At
that
she
saw
him
properly
for
the
first
time;
thick
dark
hair
and
ugly-attractive
face,
rather
dark
complexion;
and
it
seemed
for
a
moment
that
he
might
have
been
introduced
as
a
brother
not
of
the
girl
but
of
Maitland.
The
resemblance
was
there,
and
then
it
blurred,
for
the
stranger
at
best
was
too
ordinary
–
merely
a
life-size version
of
Maitland,
she
thought,
and
smiled.
Yet
his
voice
caught
her
attention;
a
very
deep
voice,
carefully
resonant,
and
with
the
faintest
shading
on
the
vowels
that
seemed
to
echo
back
to
a
childhood
somewhere
in
the
English
countryside.
Devon
came
into
her
mind,
a
place
with
which
she
was
unfamiliar.