The Collected Short Fiction of Ramsey Campbell Part 83

"You swine."

"I think that's a little much, Claire, may I call you Claire? I'm sorry if you're touchy on the subject, but if you'll allow me to say this, to my eyes you -"

"I remind you of a younger woman."

"My feelings exactly."

"A young girl, in fact."

"Ah." He faltered, and she saw him realise what he could no longer fail to acknowledge. "In some ways that's absolutely true, the best ways, may I say, only I suppose I thought that under the circ.u.mstances -"

"You loathsome filthy stinking slimy pervert."

She saw his lip draw itself up haughtily, and was reminded of a snail retreating into its sh.e.l.l. "I fear there's been some misunderstanding, Mrs Maynard," he said, and rose stiffly to his feet. "I understand your being so upset still, but my mother will be wondering where I am, so if you'll excuse me -"

Claire was faster. She swung herself around her chair with the arm she'd used to shove herself out of it, and trundled the heavy piece of furniture into the doorway. Having wedged it there, she sat in it and folded her arms. "I won't," she said.

"I really must insist." He held out his hands as if to demonstrate how, once he crossed the yards of carpet, he would grasp her or the chair. "I'm truly sorry for any error."

"You think that should make up for it, do you?"

"To be truthful, I don't know what more you could expect."

He didn't believe he had been found out, she saw - perhaps the idea hadn't even occurred to him. "Maybe you will when you see your mistake," she said and made her arms relax, because her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were aching as they hadn't since they were last full of milk.

"It'll be easiest if you tell me."

"You think I should make it easy for you, do you?" Her mouth had begun to taste as foul as her thoughts of him, and she would have swallowed more than the taste if her gla.s.s had been within reach. "Try this for a hint. Maybe you should have kept your mother out of my way."

"You've drifted away from me altogether. Let me suggest in your interest as much as mine -"

"Or found a way to stop her talking. You're good at that, aren't you?"

"Some understanding can usually be reached if it has to be. I a.s.sume that when you decide to let me go you won't be telling -"

"Like Laura never did."

"Well, really, Mrs Maynard, I must say that seems rather an unfortunate -"

"Unfortunate!" Claire ground her shoulders against the chair rather than fly at him - ground them so hard that either the chair or the doorway creaked. "That's your word for it, is it? How unfortunate would you say she looked the last time you saw her?"

He took a breath to give Claire yet another swift response; then his mouth sagged before clamping shut. He rubbed the side of one hand across his lips, and she imagined how he might have wiped his mouth as he sneaked away from the golf bunker. She stared at his face to see what would come out of it next, until he spoke. "It was you."

This was far less than the response she wanted, in fact nothing like it, and she continued to stare at him. "It was you who kept ringing off, wasn't it, till I was there to answer. What didn't you want my mother to hear?"

"Maybe I shouldn't have rung off. For all I know she's good at keeping secrets, especially if she thinks she's protecting her son."

"Why should she think -" His eyes wobbled and then steadied as though Claire's gaze had impaled them. "My G.o.d, that was you as well. You didn't just call us."

"Seems as though I might as well have."

"You tried to put the police onto me."

"If only they'd done their job properly. You wouldn't be here now. You'd be somewhere, but I'd have to put up with that being less than you deserved, I suppose. Only you are here, just the two of us for the moment, so -"

Gummer turned to the window as if he'd observed someone -Wilf? The street was quiet, however, and it occurred to her that he was considering a means of escape. She lurched out of the chair and grabbed the bottle of gin by its neck. "Don't bother looking there. You're going nowhere till I've finished with you," she said.

"Mrs Maynard, I want you to listen to me. I know you must -" He was almost facing her when he stopped and rubbed his lip and gave her a sidelong look. "Finished what exactly?"

"Guess."

"I don't believe I have to. Profitable was what you said this was going to be when you rang, wasn't it? If I may say so, G.o.d forgive you."

"You mayn't. You'd better -"