night - with David Ardingly,” I reminded her.
“Oh yes!” agreed Poppy warmly, her eyes passing vaguely over my head.
“I wanted to ask you something.” I felt sudden qualms. “Perhaps I'd better buy some flowers?”
Like an automaton who had had the right button pressed, Poppy said:
“We've some lovely roses, fresh in today.”
“These yellow ones, perhaps?” There were roses everywhere. “How much are they?”
“Vewy vewy cheap,” said Poppy in a honeyed persuasive voice. “Only five shillings each.”
I swallowed and said I would have six of them.
“And some of these vewy vewy special leaves with them?”
I looked dubiously at the special leaves which appeared to be in an advanced state of decay. Instead I chose some bright green asparagus fern, which choice obviously lowered me in Poppy's estimation.
“There was something I wanted to ask you,” I reiterated as Poppy was rather clumsily draping the asparagus fern round the roses. “The other evening you mentioned something called the Pale Horse.”
With a violent start, Poppy dropped the roses and the asparagus fern on the floor.
“Can you tell me more about it?”
Poppy straightened herself after stooping.
“What did you say?” she asked.
“I was asking you about the Pale Horse.”
“A pale horse? What do you mean?”
“You mentioned it the other evening.”
“I'm sure I never did anything of the kind! I've never heard of any such thing.”
“Somebody told you about it. Who was it?”
Poppy drew a deep breath and spoke very fast.
“I don't in the least know what you mean! And we're not supposed to talk to customers.” She slapped paper round my choice. “That will be thirty-five shillings, please.”
I gave her two pound notes. She thrust six shillings into my hand and turned quickly to another customer.
Her hands, I noticed, were shaking slightly.
I went out slowly. When I had gone a little way, I realised that she had quoted the wrong price (asparagus fern was seven and six) and had also given me too much change. Her mistakes in arithmetic had previously been in the other direction.
I saw again that rather lovely vacant face and the wide blue eyes. There had been something showing in those eyes.
“Scared,” I said to myself. “Scared stiff. Now why? Why?”
The Pale Horse
Chapter 5
“What a relief,” sighed Mrs Oliver. “To think it's over and nothing has happened!”
It was a moment of relaxation. Rhoda's fкte had passed off in the manner of fкtes. Violent anxiety about the weather which in the early morning appeared capricious in the extreme. Considerable argument as to whether any stalls should be set up in the open, or whether everything should take place in the long barn and the marquee. Various passionate local disputes regarding tea arrangements, produce stalls, etcetera. Tactful settlement of same by Rhoda. Periodical escapes of Rhoda's delightful but undisciplined dogs which were supposed to be incarcerated in the house, owing to doubts as to their behaviour on this great occasion. Doubts fully justified! Arrival of pleasant but vague starlet in a profusion of pale fur, to open the fкte, which she did very charmingly, adding a few moving words about the plight of refugees which puzzled everybody, since the object of the fкte was the restoration of the church tower. Enormous success of the bottle stall. The usual difficulties about change. Pandemonium at tea-time when every patron wanted to invade the marquee and partake of it simultaneously.
Finally, blessed arrival of evening. Displays of local dancing in the long barn were still going on. Fireworks and a bonfire were scheduled, but the weary household had now retired to the house, and were partaking of a sketchy cold meal in the dining room, indulging meanwhile in one of those desultory conversations where everyone utters his own thoughts, and pays little attention to those of other people. It was all disjointed and comfortable. The released
“Oh yes!” agreed Poppy warmly, her eyes passing vaguely over my head.
“I wanted to ask you something.” I felt sudden qualms. “Perhaps I'd better buy some flowers?”
Like an automaton who had had the right button pressed, Poppy said:
“We've some lovely roses, fresh in today.”
“These yellow ones, perhaps?” There were roses everywhere. “How much are they?”
“Vewy vewy cheap,” said Poppy in a honeyed persuasive voice. “Only five shillings each.”
I swallowed and said I would have six of them.
“And some of these vewy vewy special leaves with them?”
I looked dubiously at the special leaves which appeared to be in an advanced state of decay. Instead I chose some bright green asparagus fern, which choice obviously lowered me in Poppy's estimation.
“There was something I wanted to ask you,” I reiterated as Poppy was rather clumsily draping the asparagus fern round the roses. “The other evening you mentioned something called the Pale Horse.”
With a violent start, Poppy dropped the roses and the asparagus fern on the floor.
“Can you tell me more about it?”
Poppy straightened herself after stooping.
“What did you say?” she asked.
“I was asking you about the Pale Horse.”
“A pale horse? What do you mean?”
“You mentioned it the other evening.”
“I'm sure I never did anything of the kind! I've never heard of any such thing.”
“Somebody told you about it. Who was it?”
Poppy drew a deep breath and spoke very fast.
“I don't in the least know what you mean! And we're not supposed to talk to customers.” She slapped paper round my choice. “That will be thirty-five shillings, please.”
I gave her two pound notes. She thrust six shillings into my hand and turned quickly to another customer.
Her hands, I noticed, were shaking slightly.
I went out slowly. When I had gone a little way, I realised that she had quoted the wrong price (asparagus fern was seven and six) and had also given me too much change. Her mistakes in arithmetic had previously been in the other direction.
I saw again that rather lovely vacant face and the wide blue eyes. There had been something showing in those eyes.
“Scared,” I said to myself. “Scared stiff. Now why? Why?”
The Pale Horse
Chapter 5
“What a relief,” sighed Mrs Oliver. “To think it's over and nothing has happened!”
It was a moment of relaxation. Rhoda's fкte had passed off in the manner of fкtes. Violent anxiety about the weather which in the early morning appeared capricious in the extreme. Considerable argument as to whether any stalls should be set up in the open, or whether everything should take place in the long barn and the marquee. Various passionate local disputes regarding tea arrangements, produce stalls, etcetera. Tactful settlement of same by Rhoda. Periodical escapes of Rhoda's delightful but undisciplined dogs which were supposed to be incarcerated in the house, owing to doubts as to their behaviour on this great occasion. Doubts fully justified! Arrival of pleasant but vague starlet in a profusion of pale fur, to open the fкte, which she did very charmingly, adding a few moving words about the plight of refugees which puzzled everybody, since the object of the fкte was the restoration of the church tower. Enormous success of the bottle stall. The usual difficulties about change. Pandemonium at tea-time when every patron wanted to invade the marquee and partake of it simultaneously.
Finally, blessed arrival of evening. Displays of local dancing in the long barn were still going on. Fireworks and a bonfire were scheduled, but the weary household had now retired to the house, and were partaking of a sketchy cold meal in the dining room, indulging meanwhile in one of those desultory conversations where everyone utters his own thoughts, and pays little attention to those of other people. It was all disjointed and comfortable. The released
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