Blue Bedroom and Other Stories by Rosamunde Pilcher Read Free Book Online

of exhaust remained, painfully evident. From the back he lifted the chain saw and a can of petrol. At the sight of the blade, a shark’s jaws filled with teeth, James was suddenly apprehensive, visited by nightmare visions of Louise without any fingers.
    â€œMr. Redmay…”
    Mrs. Brick’s brother-in-law turned. James felt a fool, but didn’t care. “Don’t let my wife get too near that thing, will you?”
    Mr. Redmay’s expression did not change. But he ducked his head in James’s direction, heaved the chain saw onto his shoulder, and disappeared around the corner of the house. At least, thought James, going back indoors, he didn’t actually spit at me.
    *   *   *
    By a quarter to five the report was finished. Read and reread, corrected, squared off, and stapled. With some satisfaction, James slid it into his briefcase and snapped the lock shut. Tomorrow morning his secretary would type it. By the afternoon a fair copy would be in the in-tray of every director in the firm.
    He was tired. He stretched and yawned. From the other end of the garden the chain saw continued to whine. He got up and went into the sitting room, took that book of matches off the mantelpiece and lit the fire, and then he went into the kitchen and filled a kettle and put it on to boil. He saw the basket of laundry on the table, clothes waiting to be ironed. He saw the bowl of peeled potatoes, and on the stove a saucepan simmered; when he lifted the lid, he was assailed by the fragrance of asparagus soup. His favourite.
    The kettle boiled. He made tea, and filled a vacuum flask, found mugs, a bottle of milk, a packet of lump sugar. He went through the cake tins and found a huge fruit loaf. He cut three substantial slices, then put everything into a basket, pulled on an old jacket, and let himself out of the house.
    The late afternoon was still and blue, the damp air smelt cool and fresh, of earth and things growing. He went down across the lawn, through the paddock, and over the fence into the beech wood. The scream of the saw grew louder and he found Louisa and Mr. Redmay without difficulty. Mr. Redmay had knocked up a makeshift saw horse with a tree stump, and the two of them were working together, Mr. Redmay wielding the saw and Louise feeding him with branches, to be reduced, in a matter of seconds, to piles of logs. The air was filled with the scent of sawdust.
    James thought they looked both businesslike and companionable, and was assailed by a small pang of jealousy. Perhaps when he retired from the rat race of the advertising world, he and Louisa would spend their twilight years together, cutting wood.
    Louisa looked up and saw him coming. She spoke to Mr. Redmay, and after a little the saw was switched off, the scream of its blade dying to silence. Mr. Redmay straightened up and turned to observe James’s approach.
    He came up with the basket, feeling like the farmer’s wife. He said, “I thought it was time we all had a cup of tea.”
    *   *   *
    It was very companionable, sitting in the darkening wood, drinking tea and munching fruit loaf and listening to the pigeons flying in. Louisa seemed tired, but she leaned against James’s shoulder and said with great satisfaction, “Just look at it all. Could you believe we’d have got so many logs off just a few branches?”
    â€œHow are we going to get them all up to the house?” James asked.
    â€œI’ve fixed it with your missus,” said Mr. Redmay, puffing on his cigarette. “I’ll borrow a tractor and a trailer from the farmer and bring them up on that. Tomorrow maybe. It’s getting dark now. We’d better call it a day.”
    So they packed up the tea-things and made their way home. When they reached the house, Louisa went up to have a bath, but James asked Mr. Redmay in for a drink, and Mr. Redmay instantly accepted, so they sat by the sitting-room fire and