Коллекционер
Chapter 1
"Whycouldn’tIgooutintotheothercellarandwalkupanddown?Iwantexercise."
Wehadagoodoldargumentaboutthat.Intheendthearrangementwasifshewantedtowalkthereindaytimeshewouldhavetohavethegagon.Icouldn’trisksomeonechancingtoberoundtheback—notthatitwaslikely,ofcourse,thefrontgateandgaragegatewerelockedalways.Butatnightjustthehandswoulddo.IsaidIwouldn’tpromisemorethanonebathaweek.Andnothingaboutdaylight.Ithoughtforamomentshewouldgointooneofhersulksagain,butshebegantounderstandaboutthattimesulksdidn’tgetheranywhere,sosheacceptedmyrules.
PerhapsIwasoverstrict,Ierredonthestrictside.Butyouhadtobecareful.Forinstance,atweek-endstherewasalotmoretrafficabout.FineSundaystherewerecarspassingeveryfiveminutes.OftentheywouldslowastheypassedFosters,somewouldreversebacktohaveanotherlook,someevenhadthecheektopushtheircamerasthroughthefrontgateandtakephotos.Soonweek-endsIneverletherleaveherroom.
OnedayIwasjustdrivingouttogodowntoLewesandamaninacarstoppedme.WasItheowner?Hewasoneofthoseever-so-culturedtypeswithaplumintheirthroat.TheI’m-a-friend-of-the-bosstype.HetalkedalotofstuffaboutthehouseandhowhewaswritingsomearticleforamagazineandwouldIlethimlookroundandtakephotographs,heespeciallywantedtohavealookatthepriest’schapel.
There’snochapelhere,Isaid.
Butmydearman,that’sfantastic,hesaid,it’smentionedintheCountyHistory.Indozensofbooks.
