Free Strange Stories by Robert Aickman Page B

without the book.’
    ‘It wasn’t really our book.’
    ‘We did right in leaving it.’
    He realized that it had been the second time when, without thinking, he had seemed ungracious about the big step she had taken for him: the second time at least.
    Therefore, he simply answered, ‘I expect so.’
    He remained uneasy. He had taken due care not to drive past the crumbling rectory, but nothing could prevent the nondelivery of Harewood’s expensive book being an odious default, a matter of only a few hundred yards. To confirm the guilt, a middle-aged solitary woman at the end of the settlement suddenly pressed both hands to her eyes, as if to prevent herself from seeing the passing car, even in the poor light.
    The ascending track was rougher and rockier than on any of Stephen’s previous transits. It was only to be expected, Stephen realized. Moreover, to mist was now added dusk. At the putative Burton’s Clough, he had to take care not to drive over the edge of the declivity; and thereafter he concentrated upon not colliding with the overgrown stony waymark. Shapeless creatures were beginning to emerge which may no longer appear by daylight even in so relatively remote a region. Caution was compelled upon every count.
    Thus it was full night when somehow they reached the spot where the track seemed simply to end - with no good reason supplied, as Stephen had always thought. Elizabeth would have been seriously upset if somehow she had seen at such a spot the familiar car in which she had taken so many unforgettable outings, even when a virtual invalid. She might have concluded that at long last she had reached the final bourne.
    The moon, still in its third quarter, managed to glimmer, like a fragrance, through the mist; but there could be no visible stars. Stephen switched on his flash, an item of official supply.
    ‘We don’t need it,’ said Nell. ‘Please not.’
    Nell was uncaring of cold, of storm, of fog, of fatigue. Her inner strength was superb, and Stephen loved it. But her indifference to such darkness as this reminded Stephen of her father, that wonderful entity, whom it was so unlucky ever to mention, probably even to think of. None the less, Stephen turned back the switch. He had noticed before that he was doing everything she said.
    As best he could, he helped her to unload the car, and followed her along the narrow paths through the damp heather. Naturally, he could not see a trace of the house, and he suddenly realized that, though they struggled in silence, he could not even hear the gently heaving spring. They were making a pile at the spot where the house must be; and Nell never put a foot wrong in finding the pile a second, third, and even fourth time. Much of the trip was steep, and Stephen was quite winded once more by his fourth climb in almost no moonlight at all, only the faint smell of moonlight; but when, that time, he followed Nell over the tangled brow, the mist fell away for a moment, as mist on mountains intermittently does, and at last Stephen could see the house quite clearly.
    He looked at Nell standing there, pale and mysterious as the moonlight began to fade once more.
    ‘Have you still got my letter? ’
    She put her hand on her breast pocket.
    ‘Of course I have.’
    They re-entered the house, for which no key was ever deemed necessary. It might be just as well, for none was available.
    Stephen realized at once that what they were doing was moving into the house pretty finally; not, as he had so recently proposed, preparing to move out of it in a short time. It was clear that once Nell truly and finally entered one’s life, one had simply to accept the consequences. Stephen could perceive well enough that Nell was at every point moved by forces in comparison with which he was moved by inauthentic fads. Acquiescence was the only possibility. The admixture in Nell of ignorance and wisdom, sometimes even surface sophistication, was continuously fascinating. In any case, she had