Purveyor of Enchantment by Marika Cobbold

Author:Marika Cobbold
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 2012-10-16T04:00:00+00:00

Nine

Clementine pushed open the window, and peering out into the night, she let out a timid yell. ‘Help! Ophelia, anyone, help!’

She leant out further, waiting, but all she could hear was the wind catching in the dry maple leaves. She turned round, shaking her head.

‘The times I’ve told Ophelia to sleep with her window open,’ she muttered. She walked over to the door, pressing her ear right against it, listening for heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. There was only silence. She went back to the window and called out again a little louder this time. Still nothing happened.

‘Oh well,’ she shrugged her shoulders, sinking back down in her chair. ‘It looks like we’ll just have to sit tight and wait.’

Mr Scott was fast asleep. Clementine wiggled her toes and rubbed the tops of her arms in an effort to keep warm. She walked around the tiny room, following the path, made by the moonlight, in the dark oak floor. At least Mr Scott was calm in his sleep, although his breathing was a little shallow. She went back to her chair and sat down again, unable to rest. She was exhausted and yet as restless as a five-year-old in a traffic jam, her mind fidgeting and poking at every passing thought. And where was Nathaniel? She closed her eyes for a second, remembering his warm dry hands blindfolding her that night in her garden. ‘It’s only me,’ he had said. What an idiot, creeping up on her like that, scaring her half to death.

Across the room Mr Scott coughed and stirred.

A mile or so along the canal footpath a cattle gate opened up into a small enclosed meadow. Tall hedges punctuated by beech trees surrounded the half acre or so of land, shielding it from the footpath and from the road running the other side. Most people walked right past with their dogs and children, even lovers seemed to prefer to stroll further down along the path, but Clementine would often walk through the gate, settling down in the long grass with a book or a magazine. Today she was meeting Jessica there for a picnic lunch. While she waited for Jessica to arrive she made herself comfortable, lying back on the tartan rug with the cool-box, a bundle of Aunt Elvira’s notes, today’s Mail and a rape alarm at her side. Sipping mineral water, she picked up the paper. She was reading an article on education, and she finished reading feeling that being childless was not such a bad thing after all.

As there was still no sign of Jessica, she picked up the bundle of notes, leafing through the foolscap pages. Overhead the birds were singing and her skin was warm from the sun. She rolled over on her back, looking up at the sky and the small, busy-looking cloud sailing across on a light breeze. She must have fallen asleep and when she opened her eyes again, she looked straight up at Nathaniel Scott.

‘Nathaniel,’ she murmured, still

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