Rosemary's Baby

Author:Ira Levin [Levin, Ira & Penzler, Otto]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Horror, Fiction
ISBN: 9781453217528
Google: 7llrleDp8TAC
Amazon: 0451194004
Publisher: Pegasus
Published: 1967-01-01T18:30:00+00:00

Hutch was standing by the bookshelves. “This room is glorious,” he said. “You’re doing a beautiful job.”

“Thanks,” Rosemary said. “I was until my pelvis intervened. Roman has pierced ears. I just noticed it for the first time.”

“Pierced ears and piercing eyes,” Hutch said. “What was he before he became a Golden Ager?”

“Just about everything. And he’s been everywhere in the world. Really everywhere.”

“Nonsense; nobody has. Why did he ring your bell?—if I’m not being too inquisitive.”

“To see if I needed anything from outside. The house phone isn’t working. They’re fantastic neighbors. They’d come in and do the cleaning if I let them.”

“What’s she like?”

Rosemary told him. “Guy’s gotten very close to them,” she said. “I think they’ve become sort of parent-figures for him.”

“And you?”

“I’m not sure. Sometimes I’m so grateful I could kiss them, and sometimes I get a sort of smothery feeling, as if they’re being too friendly and helpful. Yet how can I complain? You remember the power failure?”

“Shall I ever forget it? I was in an elevator.”

“No.”

“Yes indeed. Five hours in total darkness with three women and a John Bircher who were all sure that the Bomb had fallen.”

“How awful.”

“You were saying?”

“We were here, Guy and I, and two minutes after the lights went out Minnie was at the door with a handful of candles.” She gestured toward the mantel. “Now how can you find fault with neighbors like that?”

“You can’t, obviously,” Hutch said, and stood looking at the mantel. “Are those the ones?” he asked. Two pewter candlesticks stood between a bowl of polished stones and a brass microscope; in them were three-inch lengths of black candle ribbed with drippings.

“The last survivors,” Rosemary said. “She brought a whole month’s worth. What is it?”

“Were they all black?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “Why?”

“Just curious.” He turned from the mantel, smiling at her. “Offer me coffee, will you? And tell me more about Mrs. Castevet. Where does she grow those herbs of hers? In window boxes?”

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