Adam and Eve and Pinch Me by Ruth Rendell Read Free Book Online Page A

about Jock until she saw his ghost sitting in the chair in the front room. Telling her not to be so daft and that she was hallucinating decided her against ever saying any more to those two about it. She’d have liked someone she could talk to and who’d believe her, someone who wouldn’t say there’s no such thing as ghosts. Not a counselor, she didn’t mean that. She’d kept the appointment Sonovia had made for her, but the counselor had only told her not to bottle up the grief but let it all pour out and to talk to other people who’d been bereaved in that crash. How could she? She didn’t know them. It hadn’t occurred to her to bottle up her grief, she’d cried for a week. What would it look like, a bottleful of grief? A cloudy gray liquid, she thought, with no foam or bubbles in it. Anyway, it didn’t work the way she’d been promised it would. She still felt terrible about Jock, wishing she’d never met him so that he couldn’t come ruining her life. What she wanted most was someone who knew how to get rid of ghosts. There must be people, vicars or something like that, who’d tell her what to do or do it for her. The trouble was no one believed in her ghost. Sometimes it looked as if she’d have to get rid of it herself.
    After the sighting in Immacue, she didn’t see him again for a week. By now it wasn’t so dark in the evenings and she was coming home from work in the light. She took care never to leave that chair in the middle of the room and she told Josephine she mustn’t be alone in the shop, it made her nervous. Her nerves had got bad since she lost Jock. It was a funny position to be in, hating someone and missing them at the same time. Once she went up to Harvist Road to look at the house where he’d finally told her he’d lived. She thought the woman he rented the room from might have hung a black wreath in one of the windows or at least kept the curtains drawn but there was nothing like that. What would she do if the ghost came out of the front door and down the steps? Minty was so afraid she ran all the way back to the bus stop.
    “It’s best for her to think he’s dead,” Sonovia said to her daughter Corinne. “Your dad says he’d like to get his hands on him and if he shows his face round here after what he’s done he won’t answer for the consequences. What’s the use of that sort of talk, is what I say. Let her get her mourning over with, that’s the best way, and then she can get on with her life.”
    “And what life would that be, Mum? I never knew she’d got one. Did he have any money off her?”
    “She’s never said, but I have my suspicions. Winnie left her a bit; I don’t know how much and I wouldn’t ask. Your dad says he can see the whole scenario. That Jock got talking in the pub and someone—Brenda, very likely, she can never keep her mouth shut—she pointed Minty out to him and said about Winnie Knox leaving her the house and a bit of money, multiplied it by ten, no doubt, and Jock saw the gravy train coming out of the tunnel.”
    Corinne went to the window and looked out into the back garden, which was divided from next door’s by only a chain-link fence. On the other side of it, standing on a black plastic bin liner that she had spread on the grass, Minty stood pegging out the washing. “I’m being serious, Mum. How do you know if he ever existed? Did you ever see him?”
    Sonovia stared at her. “No, we never did. We keep ourselves to ourselves, as you know.” Her daughter looked as if she didn’t know, as if it was a surprise to her, but she said nothing. “Wait a minute, though. We did see his car, a real old banger. And your dad heard his voice through the wall. Laughing. He had a very deep, warm sort of laugh.”
    “All right. Only people do fantasize. And now she’s seeing his ghost, is she? D’you know if she’s ever had psychiatric treatment?”
    “Who? Minty?”
    “No, Mum, Mr. Kroot’s cat. Who else but Minty?”
    “Don’t ask