Ingenious pain, Andrew Miller [little red riding hood ebook .txt] 📗

Well, Featherstone. Do you think she will run?'

'God help us, sir, if she does not. You still think it quite wise to take the woman?'

'I think it is our duty.'

'I mean only that they, her pursuers, may have had their reasons for . . . They may not take kindly.'

'It is my hope, sir, they shall not know of it.'

'We shall be very cramped, what with the doctor coming with us too.'

Would you leave them behind, Mr Featherstone, for the sake of a little comfort?'

James Dyer comes out, brown coat and breeches, a long grey coat. He looks at the sky, looks at the coach. The Reverend says: *You are satisfied, sir, with the condition of the postillion? Myself I thought he looked almost easy this morning.'

Dyer nods. 'He shall live.' He is looking past the Reverend, through the open door of the coach. Featherstone has cHmbed in and is leaning forward to talk to his wife. Between them is the woman.

The Reverend, following Dyer's gaze, says: 'She seems none the worse for being frozen. We must consider what is best to do with her. We cannot take her to St Petersburg.'

Dyer asks: What is your intention, Reverend? Place her in a

convent?' He laughs, or something near to a laugh: the sharp expulsion of air from his nose. 'How would you explain those teeth? The tattoos?'

The Reverend says: 'I had forgot the tattoos.'

Monsieur About emerges, inhales mightily. 'Tout estpret?

'There is only ourselves to go in now.'

The old monk raises his hand; a blessing.

The coach rocks, then slides forward, wonderfully smooth.

About says: 'All we need are bells. Ting ting ting!'

Ponko runs beside them, running and falling until Mami Sylvie outpaces him, and he is left behind, kneeling in the snow and waving, as though the coach contained his last and only friends on earth.

Mrs Featherstone sits by the right-hand window, looking back along the smoothly curving track left by the runners. Next to her is her husband, and beside him is Mary. Monsieur About is opposite Mrs Featherstone (his view: the uncut plain, a glimpse of one of the horses, the spray from the leading runner). Beside him is the Reverend Lestrade, book in hand, occasionally taking the view from either window, now and then arching his back to relieve the tension there. To the Reverend's right, James Dyer, looking at his feet, looking out of his window; very often looking closely, unguardedly, at the woman opposite him.

After two days' sledging they are in Riga. They stay at an inn under the shadow of the castle. The Featherstones, About and the Reverend share two rooms. Dyer and Mary have rooms of their own, paid for by Monsieur About. They feast on wild boar. Dyer finds an English merchant, asks if he has heard of any English doctors en route to St Petersburg. The merchant says he has not heard of any. His Latvian wife shakes her head. So many people pass through Riga now. More than Berlin. More than London!

Early the following day, with fresh horses, the company board into the chill interior of their coach, clutching rolls and spicy sausages and boiled eggs. Mary is with them still. No one protests. Even Featherstone smiles at her and gallantly peels her an egg. They ride north towards Valga. The Reverend makes notes and sketches on the end-pages of Candide.

Nov 22. Rds poor but it is easier on snow. Lght fall today. Feathers. Sky the colour of wood ash. Pm - Mrs F vomits, face quite green. We stop. M presses her about her eyes. Mrs F easier. Bad smell in coach but too cold to have the wndw down. Not much talk today.

Nov 23. Jms Dyer - at times he seems hardly to know what he is about. NOT the same man as sewed his own head, cut Pstllns arm. Alwys looking at M. Cannot believe he has filn for her yet she has some power over him. About says it also. He is amused. About told us risque stry of the Empress and her horse. Mrs F laughing too much. My bck easier than at any time since Paris. M nvr speaks a word, least not in my hearing. Thght I saw a bear today at twlght.

Passed a trp of cavalry on the road. The officer looked in and saluted us. Fine figure. Elgnt scar on his cheek.

Nov 24. Lst nght in Pskov. Fortress and churches. Drank my first glass of Kvas, made from malt water. Very quenchy. We are not to go to Novgorod. I had hoped to see it. We will pass along the shre of Lake Peipus twrds Narva. We shll then be on the Gulf of Finland and very nr our destination. All in gd spirits excpt D who lies under some uneasiness. M has her own wrld. Her eyes - gives one odd feeling to look at them. No blck cat though and nthng malignant in her face. This below: a sktch of Lake Peipus.

Nov 25. We have wlkd on white sand beside the Gulf. Hurrah! Helsinki is acrss the water. Askd D if he was confident of winning race. I mght have been speaking in Dutch, for he did not answr. I wndr what opinion M must have of him. He it was found her, carried her. Cannot for life imgne her as a wife! Icy. Saw a ship, English, heading out of the Gulf. Last before the Sprng I thnk. Returning to coach I noticed D was limping. When I askd what was the matter he said he did not knw, then said he had fallen, which was odd as the place was entirely fiat.

Nov 26. Lst evning we drnk a grt deal and are very subdued in the coach tdy. At our party D was almost human. Strtd telling stry about his sister and how he had wronged her. Seeing him in this mood A pressed him: Who are yr parents, Sir? D shks his head. Was Gummer yrfrnd? D