Iron Curtain by Vesna Goldsworthy

Author:Vesna Goldsworthy [Goldsworthy, Vesna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781473596139
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2022-04-14T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Un Repas Anglais

I followed Clarissa inside and she flung my coat onto a staircase just to the left of the entrance. It was as narrow and as steep as a stepladder. Next to it stood an ancient chest freezer covered in dog leashes and mail-order catalogues and, further along the wall, a huge framed black-and-white photograph of several moustachioed men in suits and hats grouped around an ancient mosaic, looking like a conference of carpet-sellers. On the floor under the photo stood a disorderly line of wellington boots with dirty woollen socks tucked inside and, in front of the line, a cast-iron boot jack shaped like a horned beetle and caked in dirt, like a commanding officer leading a dissolute army into some muddy battle.

Clarissa waited for me to take in the photograph – the mosaic represented two deer with interlocking antlers – but made no effort to explain it. She then guided me, through more canine paraphernalia, into the kitchen. The ceiling was low enough to touch by barely raising a hand, and far too low for my hosts. An enormous farm table occupied most of the floor space. It was already set for three.

A couple of cats jumped off the top of a cooking range, which was as out of scale with the room as the table. I had crossed Europe in order to find myself in a Bruegel painting, I thought. Even the modern household devices – the range, the fridge, the radio – looked lumpy and old, as though they were designed in the sixteenth century.

‘Would you like to powder your nose before dinner, dear?’ Clarissa asked.

‘Milena,’ I said. ‘Milena Urbanska. Jason calls me Millie, if that’s easier.’ I had forgotten to introduce myself properly, and I skipped the gender bit this time. ‘And no, thank you,’ I added. I was powderless and it seemed a strange thing to expect me to do.

‘Ah well, then perhaps you’d like to sit here,’ she pointed to the chair on the right, while setting up a fourth place on the other side of the table. ‘I am sorry to hurry everyone so. It would’ve been nice to have a glass of sherry or a stiff G&T first, but everything has been sitting in the Aga for ages, and we don’t usually eat this late. And Jason has sprung quite a little surprise on us. I don’t mean you, Milena, my dear – I mean coming today. We had expected him on Christmas Eve.’

She gave an uncomfortable laugh. The way she pronounced my name was spot on.

‘I am so sorry,’ I said. ‘It’s entirely my fault, Mrs Connor. I was keen to get out of London. And I don’t drink sherry or gin and tonic.’ I felt proud that I had recognised what she meant by a G&T, but realised that Jason’s people were not used to speaking to foreigners. ‘A glass of water would be lovely,’ I added, taking extra care to pronounce my words clearly.

‘Oh, please don’t worry, my dear.

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