The Country Life by Rachel Cusk Read Free Book Online Page B

the open door.
    Mr Madden stopped at the doorway and stood back, his hand out.
    â€˜After you,’ he said.
    I entered a very large room painted a dramatic dark red, with two huge windows draped by long, heavy curtains in a gold material looking out onto the front drive. I noticed the ceiling immediately, which was very ornate and covered in leaflike mouldings with a type of flower, a sunflower by the looks of it, at its centre. There was a vast marble fireplace with a mirrorabove it, and in front of that a richly coloured rug. The room seemed to contain a great deal of furniture, and I had an impression of gleaming, finely carved wood, the delicate legs of velvet sofas and side tables. There were several paintings on the walls, large and dark with carved gold frames. Pamela sat on one of the sofas near the fireplace, her legs tucked by her side, with a glass in her hand. I noticed immediately that she was wearing the same clothes as she had done earlier, a faded shirt and a pair of worn, closely fitting jeans. Opposite her sat a young boy, with shining black hair, like Mr Madden’s.
    â€˜Here they are!’ said Pamela, turning and smiling at us from what appeared to be a great distance. ‘Come in, Stella. Goodness, you look very smart! Piers, would you get Stella a drink?’
    â€˜What will you have?’ said Mr Madden.
    â€˜We’re on G-and-Ts,’ said Pamela helpfully, raising her glass.
    â€˜Or you could have wine,’ interposed Mr Madden, ‘or vodka, or sherry. What would you like?’
    â€˜G-and-T will be fine,’ I said hurriedly.
    â€˜Come over here,’ said Pamela, patting the sofà beside her. She laughed, the residue of the hilarity I had overheard. ‘Martin’s just been telling me
such
a funny story.’
    I looked at Martin. He was looking at Pamela. He had a very large mouth, and a bad complexion. Curled beside him in a glossy black heap was Roy; an alliance, I felt, to be feared. I hesitated before sitting down, wondering whether Pamela would introduce us formally, and if so, whether I would be expected to get up again. I felt she had behaved slightly improperly in not introducing us, and so with the boldness which an unknown situation can sometimes grant instead of shyness, I held out my hand.
    â€˜I’m Stella,’ I said.
    He turned his face rather menacingly towards me. With a frenzied pang it occurred to me that perhaps he did not have the use of his arms. Eventually, though, after long seconds, he reached up easily and took my hand. I was surprised at findingthe dry, warm vastness of his hand at the end of his thin, tentacle-like limb. Slowly, again, he turned his head away from me and resumed looking at Pamela. I felt as if I had committed a social misdemeanour, and sat down awkwardly.
    â€˜I think you two will get along very well,’ said Pamela. ‘Perhaps some of Stella’s good manners will rub off on you, Martin.’
    Everything was very quiet suddenly.
    â€˜Oh, fuck off,’ said Martin finally; quite casually, I tell you, his large chin jutting out from his shrunken, compacted chest, which appeared to be directly joined to his head without any neck. I glanced down secretly and saw his legs, which hung thin and tapered like roots from the tuber of his small body. His head, and facial features, were out of proportion with the rest of him; much bigger, that is, like the great lolling wooden head of a puppet on a stick of body. His exaggerated features made his face very expressive, like that of a cartoon character. The only other part of him which seemed to have any life were his long arms.
    â€˜How did you get on?’ said Pamela, turning away from him.
    â€˜Oh, fine,’ I said, too loudly. I was straining to penetrate the atmosphere of tension in the room.
    â€˜Here we are,’ said Mr Madden, striding through the door with a tray. He handed me a heavy glass, made of carved crystal. ‘Get that down