The Lodger: A Novel by Louisa Treger Read Free Book Online

for you everywhere.”
    “I was down here the whole time.”
    “Really? You might have told me.” A fleeting look of irritation crossed her features. “Are you ready? I’ll walk with you to the station, but we’d better hurry.”
    Bertie held out his hand, suddenly formal. “Well, it was nice to have you down for the weekend.”
    Dorothy took his hand. “Thank you. I enjoyed it, too…”
    She hesitated; it was surprisingly hard to leave him. A tide of shame and remorse welled up inside her: what was she doing harboring these feelings? Having to conceal them from Jane immediately tipped their friendship onto a false footing. She wondered what on earth they would talk about on their way to the station.
    Her hand slid from Bertie’s warm grasp and she forced her legs to move across the deep red Turkish carpet, one step at a time.

 
    Four
     
    It was an extraordinary moment when you felt the bicycle sailing forward. Dorothy was lifted off the ground, skimming through the moving air. I’ve got the hang of it, she thought … I am cycling! She was no longer merely struggling along, trying to forget how wobbly she felt. She could actually control the bicycle’s instability. She could steer with confidence, not worrying about crashing into people.
    She pedaled tirelessly, delighted by her unexpected reservoir of energy, looking around her at Regents Park as it swung past. The wide stretch of succulent grass was studded with daisies. The broad pathway was lined with people sitting on benches; behind them, flower beds flared with color. The translucent fuzz of new leaves blurred the stark lines of the trees, reminding her of an adolescent boy’s first growth of soft facial hair. Globes of cherry blossom were in their full glory, brilliant pink against the cobalt sky, and seeming far too heavy for the frail branches that sustained them. On the other side of the road stood gracefully proportioned Nash houses, their cream stucco gleaming in the sunlight. There were feathery white clouds in the sky … The heavy London air had turned into a fresh breeze flowing around her.
    She could hear the squeak of her gear case, the slurring of firm tires turning on the smooth pathway, the trill of her bell as she approached a turning … How funny I must look with my knees bobbing up and down, all bunched up in my skirt, she thought.
    The feeling of freedom was exhilarating. She couldn’t remember ever feeling quite as free. Friends and work—even Bertie—were nothing compared to this. To be able to ride a bicycle transformed life; she felt like a different person. She pictured herself cycling around London in knickers and a short skirt the whole summer long …
    *   *   *
    AT DINNER AT the boardinghouse that evening, she told Miss Boyd about her joyful afternoon. Miss Boyd had wings of dark hair coming down from a skillfully twisted bun, and clear dark eyes that shone through gold-rimmed spectacles. It was her last evening at the house; she was leaving the next morning to take up a teaching post in the north of England. “I know exactly how free of constraints you felt in the park,” she said to Dorothy. “Isn’t cycling glorious?”
    Gaslight streamed over the white tablecloth and was reflected in the heavy wooden chairs and huge tarnished mirror hanging above the mantelpiece. A handful of boarders sat around the table, looking haggard and washed-out in the light. There was a new couple: a lady with soft pinkish cheeks wearing a lace cap, and a grey-haired old gentleman with a patriarch beard. They were making jerky remarks, one after the other, about the fine weather.
    “Where is Mr. Benjamin?” Carrie asked Dorothy.
    Dorothy shrugged; she didn’t know where Benjamin was. In the three or four weeks since he’d announced his intention to look for other lodgings, she had hardly seen him. She supposed he had already found new companions. She had pushed him away with such hasty exasperated resolve, yet the reality of