Spider Light(19)

Maud thought it was nice that Thomasina’s cousin would be there for her birthday dinner, and Thomasina said they would have a very good evening. After dinner Maud could play some music, providing it was not one of those gloomy pieces by that man who had been refused Christian burial or something, so that his coffin had languished in a cellar for months. Paganini, was it? Well, whatever he had been called, they did not want him tonight.

Thomasina seemed quite excited about Simon’s arrival; Maud even began to wonder if there could be something romantic between them, although that was not very likely. Thomasina had no time for men and she looked on Simon as a brother, she had said so.

But there was a hectic colour in her face which was unusual because she was normally sallow-skinned, and her eyes had a glittery look. Maud hoped it did not mean Thomasina wanted ‘It’ to happen that night. For the last few nights she had pretended to fall asleep as soon as she got into bed, and it was nearly a week since ‘It’ had happened. So Thomasina might consider it was time for a particularly strenuous session, and since it was her birthday Maud supposed it would be ungenerous to refuse. But the prospect was daunting. There were nights when the stroking and poking seemed to last for hours, and Maud’s hands sometimes ached the next day from doing the things that Thomasina liked her to do.

(‘Dear me, rheumatism at your age,’ Maud’s father had said when she had visited him, seeing her unconsciously massaging her fingers, and Maud had had to laugh and say that of course it was not rheumatism; she had been practising a particularly difficult piece on the piano. It was unthinkable that her father should so much as suspect what she and Thomasina did together.)



At dinner Simon was very attentive to Maud, passing dishes to her and pouring wine into her glass. Maud tried not to drink too much of the wine because she was developing a headache, but Simon said a glass of good wine worked wonders for headaches, in fact it worked wonders for all areas of the body. Thomasina said, rather sharply, that that remained to be seen, and she would prefer Simon to moderate his drinking tonight, but Simon only grinned.

‘Worried about vintner’s droop? I’ve never been known to fail yet, old girl.’

Thomasina said very sharply that the dinner table was not the place for masculine coarseness, and Simon was not to call her old girl. Maud looked from one to the other in bewilderment.

‘We shan’t need anything else,’ said Thomasina to Mrs Minching when the coffee was brought in. She said this dismissively–she could be quite brusque with the servants–and Maud thought Mrs Minching looked cross as she went out.

Thomasina did not seem to notice or if she did, she did not care. She looked directly at Maud and smiled. Maud felt a nervous tremor at the pit of her stomach. This was the smile she had glimpsed on Thomasina’s face several times recently: the smile that had somehow got into that first shameful sketch; the smile that seemed to come up from Thomasina’s very marrow, and said, I’m going to enjoy you…

Maud drank her coffee, wishing it was not always so very strong at Quire House, but Thomasina could not bear it wishy-washy. Tonight, though, it tasted quite bitter.

Thomasina got up from her chair and moved round the table to Maud. She was saying something about it being time to tell Maud the plan she had made with Simon. But Maud’s headache was getting worse and there was a dull roaring in her ears. Thomasina’s words seemed to be coming from down a long, windswept tunnel. Simon had got up from his chair as well, and came towards her. He had the same smile as Thomasina and his face was flushed with excitement or maybe from the wine he had drunk–he had drunk quite a lot, in spite of what Thomasina had said.

From a long way away she heard Thomasina say, ‘I hope you haven’t given her too much?’ and Simon replied, ‘A few drops in her wine and then in the coffee, that’s all.’

Thomasina’s voice came again, a bit sharper this time, saying she hoped Simon knew what he was doing.

‘Of course I do,’ said Simon, and bent over Maud’s chair, taking her arms and pulling her to her feet. Maud discovered she was quite dizzy and it was difficult to stand up. Simon seemed to understand this and put an arm around her waist to support her.

At first she thought they were going to carry her upstairs and leave her to sleep, and she was deeply grateful. The thought of falling fathoms down into a sleep where there would be no headache and no queer distortion of sounds was wonderful. It must have been her headache that had made her see the glinting-eyed smiles and the greedy, wet-looking teeth earlier on.

There was a draught of cold air as they went out into the main hall, and it cleared Maud’s head slightly. It had been suffocatingly hot in the dining room tonight. Perhaps all she needed was a little fresh air.

It was not suffocatingly hot in her bedroom; it was pleasantly warm from the fire burning brightly in the hearth. She began to thank Simon and Thomasina for bringing her upstairs, saying she would get undressed and get into bed. Surely Thomasina would not be expecting to do ‘It’ tonight? Surely she would sleep in the adjoining room, as she had done a couple of weeks ago when she had a cold and could not stop sneezing?

But Thomasina bent over Maud, unfastened her gown and peeled it down, and then removed her underthings. She stroked Maud’s legs and her breasts and Maud felt a stab of anger because, birthday or not, it was thoughtless of Thomasina to do this when she must see how unwell she was. The room began to spin, and the light from the fire became a vaguely sinister crimson blur like blood seeping out into the walls and soaking its way up to the ceiling…like a fire behind thick clanging iron doors…