The Stranger Came (85 page)

'I
have
to
talk
to
you.’

'I
know,'
Lucy
said.
She
moved
off,
hesitating
at
one
painting,
stopping
before
another
though
she
could
not
have
said
what
was
in
front
of
her.

'I
want
to
look
after
you.’

'I'm
not
mad.’

'That's
not
what
I
meant.
You
know
it's
not.
I
care about
you.’

Lucy
moved
from
that
painting
to
the
next,
Anne
following
her.

'There's
nothing
you
would
want
from
me,'
Lucy
said, 'that
I
could
give
you.’

'A
chance
to
love
you.’
And
now
her
voice
trembling
she
spoke
as
softly
as
Lucy,
who
looked
round
in
a
kind
of
fright
at
the
word
love
–
but
the
woman
behind
the
table
sat
with
her
head
bowed
in
just
the
same
way
as
before.

'That's
over
for
me.’

'You
talk
of
yourself
as
if
you
were
an
old
woman.
He
made
you
feel
like
that.
You've
lived
your
life
seeing
yourself
through
his
eyes.’
As
Lucy
retreated,
still
keeping
up
the
pretence
of
looking
at
the
paintings,
the
soft
insistent
voice
stayed
by
her.
'You
were
unhappier
than
you
knew.
And
if
you
stayed
with
him
out
of
fear
of
being
alone,
aren't
you
alone
now?'

Driven
into
the
farthest
corner
of
the
gallery,
Lucy defended
herself.
'When
you
came
to
our
house
it
was Maitland
I
chose.
You
asked
me
to
go
with
you
then.
I
didn't.
I
didn't
want
to.’

'Oh,
my
dear.’
She
cradled
Lucy's
face
in
her
hands.
Over
her
shoulder
Lucy
saw
the
woman
lift
her
head
but
without
looking
round.
The
private
Lucy,
Lucy
Inside,
thought
she must imagine we're having a lovers' quarrel, how tactful of her not to look! I would.
'That
wasn't
you
choosing.
Don't
you
know
that?'

'Please
.’
Lucy
gave
her
head
the
tiniest
shake
until
she
was
free
of
Anne's
hands.

'You
had
been
at
Monty
Norman's
flat.
Who
knows
what
he
told
you
to
do?'

'He
wasn't
there.’

'Would
you
remember
if
he
was?
If
he
came
back
after
the
other
man
left?
If
he'd
told
you
to
forget?
How
long
had
you
been
waiting
when
I
found
you.
Ten
minutes?
An hour?
You
don't
know
what
happened.’

'But
what
is
that
if
it's
not
madness?
To
have
him
in
my
head,
not
to
know.’
And
then
the
consequences
of
that.
'Was
it
me
who
put
those
tablets
into
Sophie
Lindgren's
drink?
You
can't
tell
me
it
wasn't.
How
can
I
ever
know
it
wasn't?'

'Because
she
put
them
in
herself.
Because
she
was
unhappy.
Or
maybe
Monty
Norman
put
them
in.
Maybe
he
hypnotised
her
and
told
her
to
do
it.’

Consequences.
'I
thought
Maitland
was
trying
to
kill me.
I
thought
he
gave
me
the
tablet
–
But
what
if
I
took
them
myself?
You
say
I
might
have
seen
Monty
Norman.
Suppose
he
told
me
to
kill
myself?'

Anne
Macleod
stroked
her
arm.
Her
voice
full
of
pity, she
said,
'That
isn't
what
I
meant.’

'If
he
was
in
my
head
then,
why
shouldn't
he
be
now?'

'No.
Now
is
when
you're
free,
my
darling.
Free
of
all
of them.
The
only
sure
moment
is
this
one.’

'Free?
You're
talking
about
my
husband
being
dead
.
'

'Lucy –
'

'How
dare
you
say
that
to
me?
What
do
you
think
I
am
that
you
can
say
something
like
that
to
me?
I
loved
my
husband.’

At
that
Anne
Macleod
gave
a
little
cry
as
if
she
had
been struck.
She
actually
put
a
hand
to
her
heart.
As
if
checking
the
wound,
the
idea
came
unbidden
to
Lucy
Inside,
like an actress
.
My God! And she's the star – in spite of that plain face – and those awful glasses!

It
was
as
if
everything
had
been
put
into
words.
They looked
at
one
another
with
the
face
of
enemies
and
then
Anne
Macleod
said,
'If
you
had
gone
with
me
that
night,
he
would
still
be
alive.’

If
I look at this painting,
Lucy
thought,
she'll stop being here
.

And
it
did
happen
after
a
time.

I
won't let them,
she
thought.
It isn't any use you trying to make me feel guilty. I won't let that happen to me anymore.

Every
night
she
woke
out
of
dreams
in
which
she
saw Maitland's
mouth
pulled
out
of
shape.

'Do
you
like
it?'
a
voice
said.
'It's
my
favourite.
Though
for
all
the
wrong
reasons,
I
suppose.’