The Stranger Came (72 page)

The
idea
of
her
body
was
strange
to
her,
Maitland
had
made
it
strange
to
her.
He
had
taken
her
body
from
her.

Chapter 26

From
the
kitchen
window
the
silvery
grey
elaeagnus
bushes
hid
the
bottom
of
the
garden.
She
listened
to
the
silence
in
the
house.
A
cup
laid
aside
on
the
draining
board
was
half
full
of
coffee;
when
she
laid
a
finger
to
its
side,
it
was
still
warm.

Outside
the
air
stabbed
at
her
cheekbones
and
the hollow
of
her
throat.
With
Anne
Macleod
yesterday
she
had
sat
under
a
grey
sky,
now
it
was
the
coldest
cloudless
blue
except
for
a
skin
like
wool
teased
out
just
underneath
the
sun.

Shivering
across
the
crisp
lawn
to
check
if
the
car
was gone,
she
went
all
the
way
round
to
the
front
drive.
Like
a
fool,
she
thought.
Hadn't
she
been
told?
In
a
police
garage
the
car
would
be
up
on
a
ramp
waiting
to
be
examined.
How
could
she
have
forgotten?
Going
back
inside,
out
of
habit
she
took
care
to
shut
the
side
gate.
Lambs
and
ewes
escaped
in
summer
out
of
the
fields,
belly-flopping
between
fence
wires.
Let
them
in
and
they
would
destroy
a
garden.

Not
expecting
to
find
him,
she
made
her
way
down
past
the
hedge,
not
really
expecting
to
find
him
there,
going
down
anyway;
an
old
lawn
of
rough
grass,
the
vegetable
bed
gone
to
weeds,
a
garden
hut
with
its
rusty
padlock
snapped
to,
locking
the
door
shut.
Her
head
blocked
the
light
and
the
dirt
thick
on
the
glass
made
it
hard
to
see
in.
As
she
leant
this
way
and
that
a
piece
of
the
window
ledge
broke
off
under
her
fingers.
The
hut
was
rotting
into
the
ground.

They
had
set
a
stone
into
the
bank
as
a
foothold
up
on
to
the
kitchen
lawn.
As
she
stepped
from
it,
she
saw
a
face
at
the
window,
only
a
glimpse,
so
quick
it
might
not
have
been
there
at
all
and
then
certainly
it
wasn't.
It
had
to
be
Maitland.
Who
else?
She
hesitated
at
the
back
door,
left
unlocked
when
she
came
out.

A
hand
fell
on
her
right
shoulder.

Part
of
her
fright
was
superstition,
for
it
was
as
if
whoever
had
been
at
the
window
had
conjured
himself
behind
her.

Stepping
back
Monty
Norman
gave
her
fear
room.
'I
saw
you
come
round
to
the
front
of
the
house,'
he
said,
'so
I
knew
somebody
was
in.’

She
said,
'He
isn't
dead,
if
that's
why
you've
come.’

Later
it
occurred
to
her
that
if
she
had
kept
silent,
he
might
have
given
himself
away.
But
now
by
what
she
had
said
he
was
warned.
Yet
she
could
not
have
stopped
the
words
and
later
would
not
regret
them
for
it
was
by
thinking
about
them
afterwards
that
she
began
to
understand
what
they
had
come
from
her
own
mouth
to
tell
her.

When
he
followed
her
inside,
there
was
no
one
in
the
kitchen.
She
took
the
empty
cup
from
beside
the
sink
and
ran
it
under
the
tap.
Behind
her
she
could
sense
him
standing
too
close.
Maitland
might
have
gone
out
walking;
if
so,
there
was
no
way
of
telling
when
he
would
come
back.
Or
he
might
have
gone
to
work,
that
wasn't
impossible,
caught
a
bus
into
Balinter
and
gone
to
the
University.
The
water
spilled
over
the
side
of
the
cup.

His
hand
reached
over
her
shoulder
and
shut
off
the
tap.
In
the
silence
there
was
the
sound
of
a
door
closing.
She
knew
at
once
it
must
be
the
lavatory
at
the
end
of
the
passage
by
the
front
door
and
knew,
even
before
Maitland
appeared,
that
he
would
be
carrying
a
magazine
or
book.
It
had
not
occurred
to
her
that
he
would
reassert
the
routine
of
any
ordinary
morning.

He
came
into
the
kitchen
reading
aloud,
'Those
of
us
in industry
who
have
the
privilege
of
leadership –'
He stopped
short.
'That's
the
bit
I
like,'
he
went
on,
drawing the
words
out,
staring
at
Norman.
‘"The
privilege
of
leadership.”’
He
glanced
down
at
the
folder
open
in
his
hand.
'"Those
of
us
in
industry
who
have
the
privilege
of
leadership
should
not
leave
the
destiny
of
our
country
solely
in
the
hands
of
politicians.”
I
thought
I
might
use
it
in
a
seminar.’
And
with
no
change
of
tone,
'Are
we
having
breakfast?
Suddenly
I'm
hungry.’