Part 4 (2/2)

Not at all.' He gestured languidly at the chair opposite his own.

As you can imagine, we get few visitors this time of year, although strangely we have quite a few regulars who come for Christmas.'

The traveller inhaled deeply and silently. The woman smelled of heavy, Oriental scent, which, to him, failed to conceal the clinging aroma of flesh past its prime. It must be an entirely appropriate place to spend the winter holiday,' he said.

Mrs Eager smiled. Actually, we rarely get snow.'

He shrugged. Well, stomachs should be satisfied, if not aesthetic requirements.'

How long will you be staying with us, Mr...?'

The traveller held out his hand, which Mrs Eager took without hesitation. Her handshake was firm and dry. Othman,' he said. Peverel Othman.' He sensed immediately the woman's spirit of yearning, her unfulfilled dreams.

What an unusual name!'

He shrugged. I'm exploring this part of the country. How long I stay here depends on what I find to interest me.' The words were carefully delivered, his gaze direct.

Barbara Eager's posture momentarily froze. He could tell she was wondering whether she was right to interpret that remark as slightly flirtatious. Still, he admired the fact she did not colour up; most women of her type would have done.

Well, Mr Othman, if you're excited by wild landscapes and small communities, then we can expect to accommodate you for some time.' She stood up. Here is your meal. I wish you bon appet.i.t.'

Thank you, Mrs Eager.' He thought he'd offended her.

Barbara,' she said.

He realised he hadn't.

After dinner, Peverel Othman took a pint of beer out into The White House garden, and sat against a wall where a late blooming climbing rose exuded its scent behind him. Gradually, as the evening thickened, other guests drifted outside to sit at the wooden picnic tables, and locals also began to arrive. Car doors slammed, a few children made an appearance. Then, there was a glimmer of white, and the Lily maid herself walked into the garden, dressed in pale cotton and wrapped in a fringed, woollen shawl. She sat down alone at one of the tables, and self-consciously fiddled with her hair, kicking the bench with her feet.

Delightful! thought the traveller, how unbelievably opportune! He had not imagined the girl would come this close to him so soon, although he knew the seeds of interest he'd planted must have taken root. He wondered whether he should approach her right away. No, perhaps a minute of two of observation first... He watched her, savouring the moments before contact was made. She seemed so fey, so fragile, almost awkward. Once or twice she nodded and smiled at people she knew, but no-one made a move to join her. A moth fluttered above her head, and, for a moment, landed on her hair. Othman s.h.i.+vered with antic.i.p.ation.

Presently, a tall young man came out of The White House, carrying two full gla.s.ses. He sat down beside the girl and placed a drink in front of her. They did not speak, but simply sat there, side by side, looking into the dusk. The traveller suppressed a frisson of annoyance, even though he'd known it was unlikely the girl would be alone. Her partner was hardly more than a boy, pallid and scrawny, his hair unkempt and the starved curve of his jaw like a blade. He wore old, frayed jeans and a huge, shapeless jumper full of holes. He and the exquisite girl lifted their gla.s.ses in unison, drank, did not speak.

The traveller had finished his beer. He stood up, cradling the empty gla.s.s, and walked towards the lit garden door of the pub as if to purchase another. Just as he was within reasonable speaking distance of the Lily maid and her companion, the girl began to say something. He could not hear the words, but the boy nodded distractedly.

h.e.l.lo there,' said the traveller, and they both turned their heads in his direction. He smiled and gestured towards the pub with his gla.s.s. We meet again!'

At this point, if there was no sign of welcome, he could carry on walking without loss of dignity. The girl frowned at him, and then smiled wanly. She leaned towards her companion and began murmuring in his ear, dismissing the traveller from her attention.

Othman walked past without pausing and went into the bar. He did not feel annoyed, only mystified. He employed a careful ch.o.r.eography when intruding into people's lives and yet, on this occasion, it appeared his first movements, which were often the most devastating, had somehow failed to arouse. He was puzzled by this, and checked his appearance in the mirror behind the bar. Barbara Eager, on duty at the pumps, was oblivious of his mood and happily chatted into the air around his body as she filled his gla.s.s.

He had obviously made a mistake. Some people were immune to his allure because of an innate lack of imagination. It was pointless to bother with individuals like that; too much work. He'd simply made an error of judgement. He looked around the bar. Perhaps someone else? What he saw did not inspire him. Barbara Eager, with her frustrated desires, was not enough to sustain him. Tomorrow, then, he would be moving on. A pity. His pique was destined to last no more than a few minutes.

Don't you?' Barbara Eager said.

The traveller shook himself into the present. I beg your pardon?'

I said how much I love this time of year, the smells, the feelings, don't you?' She waved dangerous, lacquered claws in the air.

The traveller nodded. Yes,' he said. Barbara Eager, he was sure, considered herself to be an amateur poet, and probably ran a small writing circle in the village. She would have been easy prey, if he'd been interested. Could I ask you something?'

She puffed up with pleasure. Of course!'

The young couple out there, a girl with red hair and a shawl, the pale boy: do you know them?'

The question was obviously not the one Mrs Eager had antic.i.p.ated. Her face had fallen a little. Oh, you mean the Winter twins?'

Twins? I don't think so.' Even as he said it, he realised he was wrong. Of course they were twins.

Well, they're the only people who fit that description,' said Mrs Eager. Why?'

I met the girl - Lily? - earlier today.'

Mmm.' Mrs Eager leaned conspiratorially over the bar. They...'

He wouldn't let her say what she wanted to say. What are they drinking?'

Barbara Eager straightened up abruptly. Later, she might wonder, with her poet's mind, why his softly spoken words had made her feel as if she'd been slapped across the face. They usually drink cider,' she said. Are you buying for them?'

He nodded. Barbara worked the pump with a pursed mouth. What's that scent you're wearing?' he asked her, smiling.

Lily and Owen watched the traveller go back into the pub. Was that him?' Owen asked. The one you met today?'

Lily nodded. Yes.' She waited for Owen's verdict, as her brother stared at the glowing door to The White House, where the traveller seemed to have left a dark impression on the light.

Interesting,' Owen said at last.

Lily felt relieved. I thought that, too.'

Owen turned back to the table, took a drink. He'll come out again in a minute, come and speak to you again.'

Lily twirled her gla.s.s in a cider puddle on the table. Yes, I know. Do you mind?'

Owen grinned. Of course not. But we must stick together, disguise ourselves. We have to suss him out.'

Do you think he's - well - significant?' Lily asked.

I can't tell yet, but there's something about him,' Owen answered. Probably just because he's a new face, and the way he looks.'

We can pretend to be anything we like,' Lily said. He doesn't know us.'

Peverel Othman wasn't normally so obvious in his manoeuvres, as to approach his prey so directly and so quickly, but he realised there was little point in trying to deny how deeply Lily Winter had aroused his interest. Her resistance called for dramatic measures. Carrying the drinks on a metal tray, Peverel Othman went back out into the garden. He would not have been surprised if the twins had already left, but they were still sitting together at the table. Lily was leaning down to fuss a mongrel dog with a madly wagging tail that had come to sniff around her ankles.

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