The Death of Ruth Read Online Free PDF Page A

the way, beside the wardrobe. I went to the kitchen to clear up the broken drinking glass but Ralph had already done that, just as he had cleaned up the blood-stained tiles.
    I went into the Moystons’ bathroom. I saw that Ralph had used the shower and that he had carelessly left his earth-soiled shirt lying on the floor. I made the bathroom presentable and taking his soiled garment with me I left the Moystons’ house.
    Locking the kitchen door and placing the key in Ruth’s usual hiding place, I went home.
    I fixed things in my own house, then—I broke down. It was a short-lived, concentrated breakdown and during that period I seemed to stand apart, looking at myself, seeing myself as the pitiful creature that fear had turned me into.
    I accepted the fact that life as I had known it was over. Shamefully, I knew that I was not courageous enough to admit to what I had done until circumstances forced me to do so.
    I hoped fervently that everything would be over and done with before John returned home. And most of all I hoped that I would be given strength to go through the coming ordeal with at least a show of dignity.
    Later on, when Jodie came over to ask me if I knew where her mother was, I was bathed and dressed, my hair was neat and I had used lipstick. My injured ankle was bandaged, resting on a stool.
    â€˜Hello, Jodie,’ I said, ‘I suppose Ruth has sent you to collect the bread,’ and I looked at the girl, stretching my lips, showing my teeth, Jodie, I suppose, had thought that I was smiling at her.

Chapter Two
    When a man and a woman have lived together in a small cottage for twenty-odd years it is reasonable to believe that they know each other intimately.
    Molly and I married early, and the years following our marriage were passive, uneventful. I had no talent for business, for money-making but we were satisfied with our way of life. We lived within our means, managing to save enough to have a vacation every year. Perhaps our life together and our characters can be explained briefly, by recounting that on our first vacation we went to a modest hotel in a mountain resort, where the tariff was cheap, the food uninteresting but plentiful, and, liking the place well enough, we returned to it every time vacation came around again.
    Our way of life was quiet, but pleasant. Then, about three years ago it began to change. One evening I returned home after a short business trip. We always used the term ‘business trip’ but actually, once every two months I accompanied my boss, Andrew Palmer, on
his
business trip, seeing to it that the samples of plastic materials he dealt in were packed in the correct cases and checking that his car was in good order to travel the long distances we covered. I acted as his chauffeur and clerk.
    Returning to the city I was eager and anxious to get home, back to peace and order. Palmer is a tough insensitive man from whom I was forced to take any number of insults in order to keep my job. Molly’s quiet attentiveness smoothed away these indignities.
    A storm was raging, rain fell in a deluge and as I hurriedfrom the bus stop I worried about my garden—heavy rains always washed away so much of the precious topsoil—and I fretted about a leak in the kitchen roof that needed mending. I wished that we were better off so that I could afford professional tradesmen for odd jobs and devote all my spare time to the garden, make it the place of beauty I wanted it to be. I had wondered whether I could ask Molly to forgo our mountain holiday and spend the money and the time on the garden, then I thought of her indifference to gardening and decided it was hardly a fair request.
    Passing by the large, vacant section that adjoined our property, I wished again that our house had been included in the real estate deal a few years back, when the land had been purchased for the building of an apartment block. We had no luck, I thought, no luck at all, really. But