The Taxidermist's Lover by Polly Hall

Author:Polly Hall [Hall, Polly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CamCat Books

July

When it rains out here on the Levels, the water from the ground rises up to meet the water falling from the sky. As if we hadn’t been saturated enough by Rhett’s visit, shortly after their departure, Penny arrived in a cloud of Dior. Her short frame did not detract from the huge aura that extended at least three times beyond her body. I knew she was nearby, not only by her expensive perfumed arrival but by a powdery odor that diffused from her like mold spores off an old piece of fruit. It caught in my throat when she moved. Her hair fluffed up and out like a seeding dandelion head. She wore gold hooped earrings and rouge dashed up her cheekbones. A woman with romantic tendencies, she must’ve been nearing seventy yet wore the most inappropriate shoes for the countryside, high heels with stiff leather bows on the back. The visible backs of her ankles were creased like folded towels.

I was in the lounge watching the highlights from the festival on TV, trying to spot Rhett among the crowds, but it was like searching for a poppy seed in a tin full of black pepper. The camera shots swept over heads, obscuring any facial details, and even when I paused the screen it looked blurred, and most faces were shrouded by ponchos against the sheeting rain. There was not a patch of green grass anywhere in the vast expanse of fields. It had been trampled by the masses of moving feet into large peaks of mud and brown pools of slurry. Yet the atmosphere rose up from the site like steam from a freshly baked pie, and the festival goers doffed their plastic beakers full of booze to the cameras or danced as if they were not in a sodden field laced with human effluent. This was the awesome fun that Rhett was craving, although he was probably keeping dry in a tent with Andreea’s limbs wrapped around him.

I popped open a new jar of gherkins and plucked one from the watery vinegar; my cravings for salt had increased over the past few weeks. The taste reminded me of your fingers after you had thrust them inside me, then shoved them into my mouth. I sucked at the firm, ridged surface then bit it in half.

“Darling—only a flying visit,” Penny was clutching Virgil, one of her startled-looking poodles under one arm. Today he was sporting a blue bow, not dissimilar to the bows on her shoes, and I’m sure he sneered in distaste as he took in his surroundings. I thought of Parker and the little heart-shaped patch missing from his fur.

“Henry’s in his workshop,” I told her, “would you like a cup of coffee?”

“Given it up, darling—St. John’s raving about green tea. It’s got antioxidants. He says it makes you live longer.”

St. John—it sounded like ‘singe-on” when she pronounced it, as if her latest beau had charred himself. I wondered how old she really was; I’d seen her around the village with a manicured young man, arm in arm, like they owned the place.

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