The One Safe Place by Ramsey Campbell Read Free Book Online Page B

crabwise into the front room.
    Don heeled the door shut and followed. The small room was occupied almost entirely by books, though there was a black and white television with a screen no larger than the spread of Don's hand beneath the window. An announcer was saying, "If you're travelling toward London on the M1—"
    "I'm not, you silly prat," Mevin said, and switched him off. "Thought you sounded Yankee on the phone. Something wet?"
    "It's a bit early for me."
    "Just tea, pal. Always kept me company when I was a watchman. That's where I learned the ropes," Mevin said, indicating barbed wire which surrounded the net-curtained window, and added with a faintly injured air, "It's made."
    "In that case, thanks."
    "Be having a look at my library. There's a good few Yankee items I brought back when I was on the freighters. You won't have seen some of them too often, I'll wager," Mevin said, and swayed away along the hall.
    Don pressed the squeaky brass light-switch down to augment the sunlight which hung from the window, and saw yet more books. Books were piled on the mantelpiece above a fireplace strewn with sooty newspaper tied in knots; they couldn't have been stacked any higher on two of the three infirm chairs without toppling over the chair backs, they surrounded the carpet as though they'd sprouted from the skirting-board below the musty wallpaper. Don sank to his knees to examine the books on the floor, many of which retained their dust wrappers, and the damp he'd been smelling reached up through the carpet for him.
    By the time Mevin returned with a plump mug and its leaner relative, Don was squatting in front of a chair piled with books. "You won't find some of those on a church stall," Mevin said.
    Don stood up to accept the heavier mug. "I've been surprised by what I've found."
    "Not the likes of Henry Miller, though. Bet he's worth a bomb, specially in that kind of nick. Don't worry, they're legal here now. The police won't give you any bother."
    Don fed himself a token sip of lukewarm mud. "Unfortunately that's the drawback, that they've been published here."
    "Aye, only these were first," Mevin said, screwing up his face as though to wring thoughts out of it. "That's what they pay for in your trade."
    "First printings are, but these aren't, you see."
    Someone walked past the window, and Mevin ducked to peer at their legs. "Afternoon, Mr. Corcoran. Hope the nags were kind to you today," he muttered, then tilted his face toward Don. "You aren't telling me all these books are common as muck."
    "I wouldn't presume to do that, because most of the authors—well, they aren't names I'm overly familiar with."
    "Call yourself—" Mevin began, then slurped his tea instead. "The late missus had a lot of time for them," he said with a hint of menace, "and you'll find plenty like her in Manchester."
    "I believe you, but I don't know if I see them in my shop."
    "You want to advertise more, then. Get yourself a block in the yellow pages. I nearly didn't find you, you're in such piddling little type. You'd think you were ashamed of yourself." Another pair of legs strode by, and Mevin ducked lower. "Afternoon, Mrs. Devine. Got a ladder there. Here, puss, puss, puss," he called, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together, and stared at Don as though to convince him he'd seen nothing of the kind. "I've got to sort my laundry out for the daughter if you want more time."
    Don had been surveying the rest of the books while raising the mug to his lips and letting it drop. "If this is the lot I've seen it, thanks."
    Mevin drained his mug and spat some tea leaves into it. "So let's be hearing your offer."
    Don imagined the amount of space the books would occupy in his shop or in the trays outside it, and saw how much work the basement needed, not that he could justify too significant a contribution. Maybe the condition of the books would indeed help him sell them. "What would you say to two hundred, two hundred and fifty pounds?"
    "You