Free The Country Life by Rachel Cusk

myself to pardon one injustice, I found myself tempted to forget every qualm which had haunted me in the depths of the night; and thus I was coaxed, as one would lure a horse into harnesses, back into a state of contentment.
    My skin bore no trace of the night’s rash, and there being no cause or purpose to thinking more about it, I dismissed it from my mind. Longing to be out in the sun, I got out of bed and dressed quickly. I made the bed, tidied the room a little, and was about to start unpacking my suitcases and hanging things in the wardrobe when a lack of conviction, or perhaps certainty, stopped me. Instead I folded my things there where they lay in the suitcases, and pushed the cases with my foot neatly against the wall.
    My first thought was to go outside into the garden, and indeed when I flung open the front door and breathed deeply of the country air, it was a lovely prospect. Feeling in a luxurious mood, I decided that it would be nice to make myself some breakfast and eat it out in the sun. I returned to the kitchen and continued my investigation of the cupboards where I had left off the previous afternoon. The sun was to the front of the house at that point, and the kitchen was rather more dingy in the shade than I had remembered it. The cupboards were very shabby, and several of the linoleum tiles covering the floor had begun to curl up at their edges. Two or three flies were swimming in a dreamy, pointless circle at the centre of the low ceiling and I brushed at them briskly with my hand. They dispersed silently, but seconds later had drifted back again. Aside from a set of old-fashioned blue crockery – two of everything – the cupboards were more or less empty. I noticed a jar of instant coffee in one, however, and took it down, alongwith a cup and saucer. Beside the oven stood a small, yellowed fridge, and opening it I found a fresh pint of milk. Knowing that Pamela must have placed it there, or ordered it to be placed at least, the carton struck me as both a kindness and a reproof. There was nothing else in the fridge.
    I deliberated for several moments, trying to decide what to do. The idea of making coffee, and then sitting and drinking it in the sun, was appealing. The day, however, being my own, held no promise of nourishment other than what I might procure for myself. It was out of the question to call at the big house and ask for supplies to tide me over; indeed, I had already decided to dedicate myself to avoiding any encounter with the Maddens whatsoever during the course of the day. Consequently, I could not apply to them for information about where I might do my shopping; but having no means of transport, I was in any case in no doubt that the answer lay in the village of Hilltop. I had not seen the village, but I knew it to be nearby, and remembering the road along which I had driven with Mr Madden, deduced that the village would probably be found in the other direction. I was quite hungry by this time, and feeling this pang decided that I would attempt the walk first, leaving me with the rest of the day to enjoy the garden.
    I returned to my bedroom and found my purse. To my dismay, looking inside it I saw that I had very little money. I counted the coins, aware as I did so that the chances of getting to a bank, considering the transport problems described earlier, were slim. I remembered then that it was in any case Sunday, and at the same time realized that I could always pay for things by cheque. Even as I began to search for my chequebook in this optimistic flurry, however, some deeper instinct told me that it was hopeless. I tried to remember why, and then recalled that I had thrown it out with everything else, believing that I would have no use for it. I cursed my short-sightedness, and the recklessness with which I had effectively cut off all escape routes. The scene with Pamela rose up in my mind, rattling itschains. I counted the coins again and tried to think clearly. How