The Crocodile Bird by Ruth Rendell Page B
Authors: Ruth Rendell
special clean.
At home she had a bath in their kitchen bath and washed her hair. That was the next day, in the morning. She put on one of her long bright-colored skirts and her tight black top, the green beads around her neck and the gold hoops in her ears. It took her half an hour to plait her hair in the special way she had and pin it to the back of her head. And she did all this because Mr. Tobias was coming.
He didn’t come. Matt did. He drove up in the afternoon and pushed past Mother into the gatehouse before she could stop him.
“I’ve been down with one of them viruses that’s going about,” he said, “or I’d have been here before.”
“Where is Mr. Tobias?”
“He rung up from Mozam-whatsit, said he’d be home today. Didn’t he never let you know? Dear, oh, dear. Never mind, there’s no harm done, is there?”
No harm done! Mother went up to her bedroom after Matt had gone and lay on her bed and cried. Liza heard her crying and went up and got into bed with her and hugged her and said to stop, not to cry, it was going to be all right.
And so it was. In the month of June, when all the wild roses were out and flowers were on the elder trees and the nightingales sang in the wood, Mr. Tobias came to Shrove in his dark green shiny Range Rover and, with the dogs at his heels, ran up the cottage garden path and banged on their door, calling, “Eve, Eve, where are you?”
That was how Liza learned what Mother’s first name was.
She called the day gone by the Day of the Nightingale because the nightingales had sung from morning till night and beyond. People who didn’t know, Mother said, believed nightingales only sang by night but that was false, for they sang all around the clock.
SIX
M Y real name’s Eliza. I’ve sometimes thought she called me after Eliza Doolittle in Pygmalion. ”
“Come again?” said Sean.
“Because she intended to do the same thing with me as Pygmalion did with Galatea and as Professor Higgins did with Eliza Doolittle, he remade her to be the way he wanted her, or let’s say he had an ideal and he tried to turn her into that.”
Sean frowned while he concentrated. “Sounds like My Fair Lady to me.”
“She said she didn’t, anyway, when I asked her. She just liked the name.” Liza finished her strawberry milkshake and wiped her mouth. “Sean, can I have a burger? D’you know I’ve never had one.”
“’Course you can. We’ll both have a burger and chips.”
“Isn’t it funny? I was so afraid to leave the gatehouse and her, I thought I’d die of fright.”
“You’re always dying of something, you are.”
“Only I never do really, do I? I was so frightened and now I’m out in the world—that’s how I see it, out in the world—I really like it. Or perhaps it’s just you I like. I wouldn’t have liked Heather.”
“You might’ve. You don’t know her.”
“Oh, yes, I do. I did. She came to stay. But not then, not till after Mr. Tobias had been.”
They were in the town, Liza wary of the crowded pavements but liking the shops and the big green with a few old people sitting on wooden seats and children feeding ducks on a pond. Sean wouldn’t take her money, he had a bit saved up, and when they had had lunch he bought two bottles of wine and sixty cigarettes, something else she had never tried before. Sean lit a cigarette as soon as he was in the car.
“Eve said they kill you.”
“She’s not the only one says that. But I reckon it’s just the same old thing, them trying to stop you having a bit of pleasure. I mean, look at it this way, my grandad, he’s eighty-seven, he’s smoked forty a day since he went out to work at fourteen and there’s not a thing wrong with him, spry as a cricket he is.”
“What’s a cricket, Sean?”
“There’s the game cricket, you know, test matches and whatever, there’s that, but it’s not that, is it? I reckon I don’t know what it is, to tell you the honest truth.”
“You shouldn’t use
At home she had a bath in their kitchen bath and washed her hair. That was the next day, in the morning. She put on one of her long bright-colored skirts and her tight black top, the green beads around her neck and the gold hoops in her ears. It took her half an hour to plait her hair in the special way she had and pin it to the back of her head. And she did all this because Mr. Tobias was coming.
He didn’t come. Matt did. He drove up in the afternoon and pushed past Mother into the gatehouse before she could stop him.
“I’ve been down with one of them viruses that’s going about,” he said, “or I’d have been here before.”
“Where is Mr. Tobias?”
“He rung up from Mozam-whatsit, said he’d be home today. Didn’t he never let you know? Dear, oh, dear. Never mind, there’s no harm done, is there?”
No harm done! Mother went up to her bedroom after Matt had gone and lay on her bed and cried. Liza heard her crying and went up and got into bed with her and hugged her and said to stop, not to cry, it was going to be all right.
And so it was. In the month of June, when all the wild roses were out and flowers were on the elder trees and the nightingales sang in the wood, Mr. Tobias came to Shrove in his dark green shiny Range Rover and, with the dogs at his heels, ran up the cottage garden path and banged on their door, calling, “Eve, Eve, where are you?”
That was how Liza learned what Mother’s first name was.
She called the day gone by the Day of the Nightingale because the nightingales had sung from morning till night and beyond. People who didn’t know, Mother said, believed nightingales only sang by night but that was false, for they sang all around the clock.
SIX
M Y real name’s Eliza. I’ve sometimes thought she called me after Eliza Doolittle in Pygmalion. ”
“Come again?” said Sean.
“Because she intended to do the same thing with me as Pygmalion did with Galatea and as Professor Higgins did with Eliza Doolittle, he remade her to be the way he wanted her, or let’s say he had an ideal and he tried to turn her into that.”
Sean frowned while he concentrated. “Sounds like My Fair Lady to me.”
“She said she didn’t, anyway, when I asked her. She just liked the name.” Liza finished her strawberry milkshake and wiped her mouth. “Sean, can I have a burger? D’you know I’ve never had one.”
“’Course you can. We’ll both have a burger and chips.”
“Isn’t it funny? I was so afraid to leave the gatehouse and her, I thought I’d die of fright.”
“You’re always dying of something, you are.”
“Only I never do really, do I? I was so frightened and now I’m out in the world—that’s how I see it, out in the world—I really like it. Or perhaps it’s just you I like. I wouldn’t have liked Heather.”
“You might’ve. You don’t know her.”
“Oh, yes, I do. I did. She came to stay. But not then, not till after Mr. Tobias had been.”
They were in the town, Liza wary of the crowded pavements but liking the shops and the big green with a few old people sitting on wooden seats and children feeding ducks on a pond. Sean wouldn’t take her money, he had a bit saved up, and when they had had lunch he bought two bottles of wine and sixty cigarettes, something else she had never tried before. Sean lit a cigarette as soon as he was in the car.
“Eve said they kill you.”
“She’s not the only one says that. But I reckon it’s just the same old thing, them trying to stop you having a bit of pleasure. I mean, look at it this way, my grandad, he’s eighty-seven, he’s smoked forty a day since he went out to work at fourteen and there’s not a thing wrong with him, spry as a cricket he is.”
“What’s a cricket, Sean?”
“There’s the game cricket, you know, test matches and whatever, there’s that, but it’s not that, is it? I reckon I don’t know what it is, to tell you the honest truth.”
“You shouldn’t use