The Judgement of Strangers Read Online Free PDF Page B

in oneself.’
    ‘I know.’
    ‘Listen, two weeks ago, Ronnie asked me to marry him. I didn’t say yes, but I didn’t say no, either. I said I needed time. But he thought I was eventually going to say yes. To be perfectly honest, I thought I was going to say yes. In a way I felt that he deserved it. And I’m fond of him … Besides, I don’t like living on my own.’
    ‘I see. Won’t you sit down?’
    I was not sure whether she was talking to me as a man or as a priest – a not uncommon problem in the Anglican Church. When we sat down, somehow we both chose the sofa. This had a low seat – uncomfortably low for me. It caused Vanessa’s skirt to ride up several inches above the knees. The sight was distracting. She snapped open her handbag and produced a packet of cigarettes, which she offered to me. I found some matches in my pocket. Lighting the cigarettes brought us very close together. There was now no doubt about it: as far as I was concerned, the man was well in ascendancy over the priest.
    ‘Ronnie hoped to announce our engagement on Friday evening,’ she continued. ‘I think that’s why he wanted the dinner party – to show me off. I didn’t want that.’ She blew out a plume of smoke like an angry dragon. ‘I didn’t like it, either. It made me feel like a trophy or something. And then this morning, Cynthia told me she’d been to see you, told me what she’d said. I was furious. I’m not engaged to Ronnie. In any case, it’s nothing to do with her.’
    ‘No doubt she meant well,’ I said, automatically clinging to the saving grace of good intentions.
    ‘We all mean well,’ Vanessa snapped back. ‘Sometimes that’s not enough.’
    We smoked in silence for a moment. I glanced at her stockinged legs, dark and gleaming, and quickly looked away. She fiddled with her cigarette, rolling it between finger and thumb.
    ‘The book,’ I said, my voice a little hoarse. ‘What did you think of it?’
    ‘Yes.’ She seized the envelope as if it were a life belt. ‘There’s a good deal of interesting material in it. Particularly if you know Roth well. But I’m afraid it’s not really suitable for us.’
    ‘Is it worth our trying elsewhere?’
    ‘Frankly, no. I don’t think any trade publisher would want it. It’s not a book for the general market.’
    ‘Too short,’ I said slowly, ‘and too specialized. And not exactly scholarly, either.’
    She smiled. ‘Not exactly. If the author wants to see it in print, she’ll probably have to pay for the privilege.’
    ‘I thought you might say that.’
    ‘She’ll probably blame my lack of acumen,’ Vanessa went on cheerfully. ‘A lot of authors appear to believe that there are no bad books, only bad publishers.’
    ‘So what would you advise?’
    ‘There’s no point in raising her hopes. Just say that I don’t think it’s a commercial proposition, and that I advised investigating the cost of having it privately printed. She could sell it in the church, in local shops. Perhaps there’s a local history society which would contribute towards the costs.’
    ‘Is there a printer you could recommend?’
    ‘You could try us, if you like. We have our own printing works. We could certainly give you a quotation.’
    ‘Really? That would be very kind.’
    Simultaneously we turned to look at one another. At that moment there was a sudden movement at the window. Both our heads jerked towards it as if tugged by invisible strings, as if we were both conscious of having done something wrong. I felt a spurt of anger against the intruder who had broken in on our privacy. Audrey’s cat was on the sill, butting his nose against the glass.
    Vanessa said, ‘Is that – is that yours ?’
    ‘No – he belongs to Audrey, in fact – the person who wrote the book.’
    ‘Oh.’ She looked relieved. ‘My mother was afraid of cats. She was always going on about how insanitary they were. How they brought germs into the house, as well as the things they