left, and she was holding it between finger and thumb, as girls in old-fashioned pictures sometimes held roses. She couldn't remember eating it, though the taste of the salted tomato was fresh in her mouth. Already, out of nothing, she had moved into a vague alignment with these women, become a conspirator without knowing the nature of the conspiracy. She took a deep breath and turned to ask them about Jacko again, but in came Sorry himself in an expensive motorcycle jacket and blue jeans and wearing a motorcycle helmet which transformed him into a moon walker.
"I've got a spare helmet," he said. "Come on, Cinderella, let Prince Charming put it on for you. My darling, you must have the smallest head in the world."
Laura couldn't help laughing. The Vespa was waiting at the kitchen door. Sorry climbed on to it with the nimbleness of much practice.
"You'll come back again, Laura," said old Mrs Carlisle with satisfaction. "After all, you've eaten our bread and salt, and that's a sign."
"Did you?" said Sorry sharply. "Chant, you haven't got the sense you were born with. Mind you, everyone warns you to watch out for someone like me, but who's going to teach you to watch out for two nice, middle- class women with money and private-school accents?
OK, hop on the bike behind me. Hang on to me if you like, but don't pull me backwards too much, will you?"
"Take her straight home," said Winter as if this was in doubt. But the journey only took a few minutes and, since she felt very tired and the moon was now permanently hidden by a warm bed of nor'west cloud, she was glad of the lift and thought once again that life was very easy for Sorry Carlisle in the same ways in which it was very difficult for her.
At her own gate she hesitated, struggling with the unfamiliar fastening on the helmet until he began, rather impatiently, to take it off for her.
"By the way, Chant," he asked as he did so, "just what is wrong with the little brother?"
"He's bewitched," said Laura, "but you don't care."
"Not so very much," Sorry agreed. "Besides, most likely it's just chicken-pox or something."
"It's a sort of vampire," Laura explained, and he laughed.
"This isn't a village in the Carpathians. You've been watching the Sunday night horror movie."
"We don't have television," Laura replied shortly. "Besides it's not exactly a vampire. More a spirit, an incubus, a demon."
"What a load of rubbish!" said Sorry derisively. "Which one is it?"
"I don't know," said Laura, "and that's a funny thing, because I knew what you were straight off, didn't I?"
She turned her back on him and marched up the little concrete path, its square edges lined by alyssum and a few poppies. The door looked very light and flimsy after the Carlisles' front door, which seemed to be built to withstand battering rams. Still she had lived a very happy life behind that door and was comforted to see it again.
"Hang on a minute, Chant!" Sorry called behind him, but she opened the plywood door, went through it and shut him and his blue Vespa out in the dark where he seemed rightfully to belong. He was something different from what she had thought him and she wanted to think carefully about him before she saw him again.
Inside the house, Kate and Chris Holly stared at her in a self-consciously innocent way.
"How's Jacko?" Laura asked.
"Very quiet," said Kate, remarkably cheerful. "He might sleep it off. You never know."
Laura, however, thought that she did know. She looked at them carefully. She had been away a great deal longer than she had implied she would be when she left, but they did not seem to have noticed. There was so much traffic up and down Kingsford Drive, even at this time of night, that Sorry's motorbike might easily have gone unnoticed, or perhaps they had been thinking of something else... She had a strong feeling that they had not missed her
6 Different Directions
"Laura! Laura!" Kate screamed suddenly, and then, "Laura!" again and, immediately terrified,
"I've got a spare helmet," he said. "Come on, Cinderella, let Prince Charming put it on for you. My darling, you must have the smallest head in the world."
Laura couldn't help laughing. The Vespa was waiting at the kitchen door. Sorry climbed on to it with the nimbleness of much practice.
"You'll come back again, Laura," said old Mrs Carlisle with satisfaction. "After all, you've eaten our bread and salt, and that's a sign."
"Did you?" said Sorry sharply. "Chant, you haven't got the sense you were born with. Mind you, everyone warns you to watch out for someone like me, but who's going to teach you to watch out for two nice, middle- class women with money and private-school accents?
OK, hop on the bike behind me. Hang on to me if you like, but don't pull me backwards too much, will you?"
"Take her straight home," said Winter as if this was in doubt. But the journey only took a few minutes and, since she felt very tired and the moon was now permanently hidden by a warm bed of nor'west cloud, she was glad of the lift and thought once again that life was very easy for Sorry Carlisle in the same ways in which it was very difficult for her.
At her own gate she hesitated, struggling with the unfamiliar fastening on the helmet until he began, rather impatiently, to take it off for her.
"By the way, Chant," he asked as he did so, "just what is wrong with the little brother?"
"He's bewitched," said Laura, "but you don't care."
"Not so very much," Sorry agreed. "Besides, most likely it's just chicken-pox or something."
"It's a sort of vampire," Laura explained, and he laughed.
"This isn't a village in the Carpathians. You've been watching the Sunday night horror movie."
"We don't have television," Laura replied shortly. "Besides it's not exactly a vampire. More a spirit, an incubus, a demon."
"What a load of rubbish!" said Sorry derisively. "Which one is it?"
"I don't know," said Laura, "and that's a funny thing, because I knew what you were straight off, didn't I?"
She turned her back on him and marched up the little concrete path, its square edges lined by alyssum and a few poppies. The door looked very light and flimsy after the Carlisles' front door, which seemed to be built to withstand battering rams. Still she had lived a very happy life behind that door and was comforted to see it again.
"Hang on a minute, Chant!" Sorry called behind him, but she opened the plywood door, went through it and shut him and his blue Vespa out in the dark where he seemed rightfully to belong. He was something different from what she had thought him and she wanted to think carefully about him before she saw him again.
Inside the house, Kate and Chris Holly stared at her in a self-consciously innocent way.
"How's Jacko?" Laura asked.
"Very quiet," said Kate, remarkably cheerful. "He might sleep it off. You never know."
Laura, however, thought that she did know. She looked at them carefully. She had been away a great deal longer than she had implied she would be when she left, but they did not seem to have noticed. There was so much traffic up and down Kingsford Drive, even at this time of night, that Sorry's motorbike might easily have gone unnoticed, or perhaps they had been thinking of something else... She had a strong feeling that they had not missed her
6 Different Directions
"Laura! Laura!" Kate screamed suddenly, and then, "Laura!" again and, immediately terrified,
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