Marnie by Winston Graham Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Winston Graham
things I know about, but this was a bit out of my league. I mean, I could handle the Ronnie Olivers of this
world and get through without them laying a finger-nail on me. And I could deal with most of the numerous models that prop each other up at street corners and roam in espresso bars. But this one
was different. For instance, his language. I wasn’t even sure he meant any harm now. And he was my boss. If I wanted to stay with the firm I ought to try to keep in with him.
‘What do you want for breakfast?’
He laughed. ‘I knew you were a girl after my own heart. Bacon and eggs, d’you think?’
‘All right. But please, I don’t want to be driven home after. When we’ve had breakfast you can phone for a taxi. After all, I can afford it today.’
I went into the kitchen and began to put some bacon and eggs on the grill. He laid the table in the living-room while I cooked and did the toast. Then he came into the kitchen to make the
coffee.
‘But, my dear, you may spoil your delicious frock. I’ll get you an apron.’ He came back with a blue plastic one with flowers.
‘Is it one of yours?’ I said.
‘Naughty. It belonged to my wife.’
‘Where is your wife?’
‘She lives in Ealing now. We didn’t get on. Let me do it.’
I tried to take the apron off him but of course he had to put it round my waist and tie it. When he had finished it his arms got back round my waist.
‘Did I tell you you were pretty?’
‘. . . watch the toast.’
‘Well it isn’t true any more. Now you’re beautiful.’
‘Uh-huh.’ I slid round the side of the stove.
‘It’s too true. Because now you’re pale – and tired. It fines off the shape of your face, makes just the difference.’ He kissed the back of my neck.
‘Terry, if you do that I shall go home.’
‘Why?’
I pulled the toast out, put it on the table and began to cut the crusts off. ‘Have you made the coffee?’
‘Why will you go home if I do that?’
‘I just feel that way.’
He was still standing near by. A lot too near by. ‘I don’t think I’m exactly well acquainted with you yet, Mary. I don’t at all know how you tick.’
‘Just like anyone else. Tick-tock-tick-tock .’
‘No, you’re not like anyone else. I’ve – well, to put it in a genteel way, I’ve had my adventures. Girls, women, not to exaggerate, my dear, are not exactly a
closed book to me. But you’re not like them. Your mechanism’s different.’
‘I expect it’s the hairspring. Could you turn off the grill, please.’
He reached back and switched it off without ever taking his eyes from me. ‘Bury me deep if I lay claim to too much, my dear, but with most women I know – I’d know what
they’d do or say if I made a pass at them – I’d know it before they knew themselves – I’d know if they were willing. Not you.’
‘Here’s your plate – careful, it’s hot.’
We went back into the living-room and started in on breakfast. He was quite right about one thing; I was hungry. I ate like I was hungry in spite of feeling on a knife edge. He kept looking at
me. Opposite me like this, his face was pear shaped. It wasn’t a nice face but it was an interesting face. It was wild and sly and very, very alert. I felt scared, and a bit mad at being
stared at. I wished I’d never come.
‘Mary, can I say something very, very rude ?’
‘I can’t stop you.’
‘Well, you could slap my face.’ He pushed out his lip. ‘This is what I’m going to say, if I may. I know your husband has been dead for only a short time but . . . well,
you don’t look like a married woman.’
The light from the window had got brighter while this was going on, and the room with its card-table and its empty glasses and its full ashtrays was a pretty ghastly sight. I got up.
‘Well, I think that’s a good cue for me to go home.’
He got up too and came round the table. ‘I’m waiting.’
‘What for?’
‘This is the best side to slap. The other
world and get through without them laying a finger-nail on me. And I could deal with most of the numerous models that prop each other up at street corners and roam in espresso bars. But this one
was different. For instance, his language. I wasn’t even sure he meant any harm now. And he was my boss. If I wanted to stay with the firm I ought to try to keep in with him.
‘What do you want for breakfast?’
He laughed. ‘I knew you were a girl after my own heart. Bacon and eggs, d’you think?’
‘All right. But please, I don’t want to be driven home after. When we’ve had breakfast you can phone for a taxi. After all, I can afford it today.’
I went into the kitchen and began to put some bacon and eggs on the grill. He laid the table in the living-room while I cooked and did the toast. Then he came into the kitchen to make the
coffee.
‘But, my dear, you may spoil your delicious frock. I’ll get you an apron.’ He came back with a blue plastic one with flowers.
‘Is it one of yours?’ I said.
‘Naughty. It belonged to my wife.’
‘Where is your wife?’
‘She lives in Ealing now. We didn’t get on. Let me do it.’
I tried to take the apron off him but of course he had to put it round my waist and tie it. When he had finished it his arms got back round my waist.
‘Did I tell you you were pretty?’
‘. . . watch the toast.’
‘Well it isn’t true any more. Now you’re beautiful.’
‘Uh-huh.’ I slid round the side of the stove.
‘It’s too true. Because now you’re pale – and tired. It fines off the shape of your face, makes just the difference.’ He kissed the back of my neck.
‘Terry, if you do that I shall go home.’
‘Why?’
I pulled the toast out, put it on the table and began to cut the crusts off. ‘Have you made the coffee?’
‘Why will you go home if I do that?’
‘I just feel that way.’
He was still standing near by. A lot too near by. ‘I don’t think I’m exactly well acquainted with you yet, Mary. I don’t at all know how you tick.’
‘Just like anyone else. Tick-tock-tick-tock .’
‘No, you’re not like anyone else. I’ve – well, to put it in a genteel way, I’ve had my adventures. Girls, women, not to exaggerate, my dear, are not exactly a
closed book to me. But you’re not like them. Your mechanism’s different.’
‘I expect it’s the hairspring. Could you turn off the grill, please.’
He reached back and switched it off without ever taking his eyes from me. ‘Bury me deep if I lay claim to too much, my dear, but with most women I know – I’d know what
they’d do or say if I made a pass at them – I’d know it before they knew themselves – I’d know if they were willing. Not you.’
‘Here’s your plate – careful, it’s hot.’
We went back into the living-room and started in on breakfast. He was quite right about one thing; I was hungry. I ate like I was hungry in spite of feeling on a knife edge. He kept looking at
me. Opposite me like this, his face was pear shaped. It wasn’t a nice face but it was an interesting face. It was wild and sly and very, very alert. I felt scared, and a bit mad at being
stared at. I wished I’d never come.
‘Mary, can I say something very, very rude ?’
‘I can’t stop you.’
‘Well, you could slap my face.’ He pushed out his lip. ‘This is what I’m going to say, if I may. I know your husband has been dead for only a short time but . . . well,
you don’t look like a married woman.’
The light from the window had got brighter while this was going on, and the room with its card-table and its empty glasses and its full ashtrays was a pretty ghastly sight. I got up.
‘Well, I think that’s a good cue for me to go home.’
He got up too and came round the table. ‘I’m waiting.’
‘What for?’
‘This is the best side to slap. The other