Ladies From Hell by Keith Roberts Read Free Book Online Page B

said. “The satyrs used to get a bit high too, don’t you know. But it didn’t seem to hold ’em back at all. Had rather a good time of it on the whole …”
    He slammed his fists on the desk. “But you’re twenty years older than she is!”
    I waved a hand. “Baalbek, enigmatic in ruin,” I said. “Carthage, splendid in decay. In any case I’m not
totally
past it, old fruit. They didn’t use to call me the Wolverhampton Walloper for nothing …”
    “
Shut up
,” he said. “Just
shut up
.” He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t expect you even
washed …
”
    I thought. “Course I did,” I said indignantly. “I had a shower. I’m not
uncivilised
you know …”
    He rubbed his eyes. He said, “For God’s sake, let it rest …” When he looked up he had a hunted expression. He said, “As a matter of fact I had rather a shock yesterday.”
    “Good Lord,” I said. “You mean before—”
    “Yes!
Before
!”
    Two in a day; it was a wonder he’d survived. I looked enquiringly at the whisky. He wanted to talk, that was obvious; and despite what he thought of me there was nobody else available. But if he wanted me to listen he was going to have to buy my time. Particularly after the episode earlier on.
    He slammed a full bottle down in front of me. “Look,” he said, “I’m sorry about this morning. I wasn’t myself.” He swallowed. “Hannah’s left me,” he said. “Done a bunk.”
    I felt my eyebrows lift. I wouldn’t have thought she had it in her. “What,” I said, “just upped and gone? No note or anything?”
    He swallowed again. “There was a note,” he said. “She’s with her parents. I … spent half the day there. But it was no good …”
    I poured myself a drink. “Is there somebody else?”
    He waved a hand. “Good Lord no,” he said irritably. “She’s not like that. She just …”
    Upped and left, thinks I. Well well, what a turnup. Tired of dusting the fibreglass and watering Nellie Moser while he danced the light fantastic. Good for her. What she really needed now was a randy old get like me to give her some confidence back; but I expected she’d make out.
    He’d slumped in the chair. He said hollowly, “What am I going to do?”
    That was a good question. What could he do? Run amok with a bread knife? Join the Legion? Scratch a curse on lead, and give it to the brook? “If it was me,” I said, “I should get myself a dolly bird. I can’t think of anything else.”
    He stared at me. He said betweenhis teeth, “You’re a
bastard
. A prime bloody
bastard …
”
    I got up. “No,” I said, “I’m not. I’m a painter. That doesn’t automatically make me what you called me; neither does it make me God.”
    Clancy arrived a few mornings later. I saw the car coming bouncing toward the Barn and went out to meet it. I’d been expecting something fancy after what she said; but a Beta Estate, Egad … I got the usual Clance-type welcome, and Am pecked me formally on the cheek and said, “Hello, Uncle.” It’s been Richard ever since she was a kid, but Uncle since she started the Change. Little bugger only does it to set me up. I held her at arm’s length and shook my head. Amazing what a difference even a few months can make when they’re that age; I was going to have to get another model to finish the portrait. She’d grown a couple of inches to start with, she was topping her mother.
    They’d collected Pete Merriman somewhere on the way, and a brace of Overseers; a tall discouraged one (I think he’d been Attached to a musician) and a short fat merry-looking sod. They’d be great company for George. They were tumbled in the back of the Beta among a fine old clamjamfry; canvases, luggage, satchels full of paints and brushes, crates of hooch, Clancy’s paella pot and a rusty-looking barbecue. Nearly the first thing out though was a trichro laser barrel. My Overseer was already dancing round with a clip board, trying to check everything in; he nearly had