She put down the receiver, then passed the palms of her hands over her forehead and thick black hair. She repeated the movement several times, as if to still tumultuous thoughts. Some moments later she rose wearily and went into the bedroom to change.
Long before she expected it, the sound of the bell pealed through the flat.
“You’ve been very quick.”
“I came in a taxi. Am I too early?”
“No, please come in.”
Rendell followed her into the sitting-room, trying to appear at ease with little success.
“Do sit down,” she said abruptly, “and—and try one of these cigarettes.”
“Thanks. Are you on your own here?”
“Yes. I’ve been here for two years.”
“I see. Very central, of course.”
A long silence followed. Any attempt at small talk was ludicrous. Vera stared into the fire and Rendell sat opposite her, glancing more than once at her powerful figure and dark fanatical eyes.
“Can I trust you—really trust you?”
The deep tone of her voice, breaking the long silence, almost startled him:
“Wait!” she exclaimed, just as he was about to reply. “I’ve only met you once—in that awful house. You’ll think me mad, but—but I’ve
Her submissive tone, and the absence of that defensive armour she had worn at their first meeting, so surprised Rendell that he hesitated before replying.
“Anything you tell me will go no further,” he said simply. “You can rely on that absolutely. But I’d like to know if you’ve told anyone else what you propose telling me.”
“No—no one. And I can’t tell you all.”
The blood invaded her cheeks so swiftly that in an instant she was scarlet.
Rendell looked away, greatly embarrassed, but almost immediately she went on:
“It’s about Ivor and myself. I’ve got to tell you. You’ll see why later.”
She passed her hand across her forehead.
“I don’t know where to begin. I’ll have to start some way back, I suppose. It will be rather long, I’m afraid.”
“Say what you want to in your own way. It won’t go an inch further.”
“I’d better begin with my family. They live in the Midlands. I’ve two brothers—one twenty-six, the other twenty-five. I’m twenty-four. And I’ve three sisters younger than I am—the youngest is twenty-one. My father is a business man, rich and—notorious.”
“In what way notorious?” Rendell asked as she broke off.
“Oh, for affairs with women—nothing more interesting than that. He doesn’t care what anyone thinks, and when he’s drunk he will do literally anything. More than once he’s brought one of his women to the house.”
“That’s not too good, I admit. What did your mother think about it?”
“I doubt if my mother has thought about anything for years. I imagine that her wedding night was the real date of her death—whatever the actual one may prove to be. She had six children—one a year—and after that I should think she was only too glad when my father became openly promiscuous.”
She spoke with such bitterness that Rendell could only wait for her to continue.
“I won’t go into details about my brothers and sisters. I’ll only say that they are
She attempted a laugh as she took a cigarette from the box by her side.
“You’ve made it very plain to me why you cleared out,” Rendell said slowly.
“Why—and how—I cleared out may interest you. When I explain that I was a student, that I worked hard, won scholarships, and so on, you will be able to imagine what my life was like in that hell of a house. But you won’t be able to imagine what it was like when I found myself a prisoner in it with nothing to do. That happened when I was twenty.”
“No, that couldn’t have been easy. What did you do?”
“Read Ivor Trent’s books.”
She looked at him oddly, then went on:
“I read his books. I read them again and again. He seemed like a god to me. I knew whole pages by heart. He became my idol, something to worship in the midst of noise, mental squalor, and filth. He represented everything I admired—everything that gave life meaning. He was my ideal—made flesh. That may sound cheap, sentimental, hysterical. But not to those who have had to find a dream, or just die inch by inch.”
Her tone suggested all this was so familiar that it had become monotonous.
“And how long did that last?” Rendell asked after a long silence.
“About a year. Then two things happened. The first was that I came into a few hundreds which an aunt had left me, but which I did not get till I was twenty-one. The second was that I went mad.”
Rendell’s astonishment produced a peal of laughter from Vera which was too near hysteria to reassure him.