"That Hideous Strength" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lewis Clive Staples)

IV

Hours later, bruised, frightened, and tired to death, Jane found herself in a street she did not even know, surrounded by N.I.C.E. policemen and a few of their females, the Waips. Her course had been like that of a man trying to get home along the beach when the tide is coming in. She had been driven out of her natural route along Warwick Street-they were looting shops and making bonfires there-and forced to take a much wider circle, up by the Asylum, which would have brought her home in the end. Then even that wider circle had proved impracticable, for the same reason. She had been forced to try a still longer way round: and each time the tide had got there before her. Finally she had seen Bone Lane, straight and empty and still, and apparently her last chance of getting home that night at all. A couple of N.I.C.E. police-one seemed to meet them everywhere except where the rioting was most violent-had shouted out, “You can’t go down there, miss.” But as they then turned their backs on her, and it was poorly lit, and because she was now desperate, Jane had made a bolt for it. They caught her. And that was how she found herself being taken into a lighted room and questioned by a uniformed woman with short grey hair, a square face, and an unlighted cheroot. The room was in disorder-as if a private house had been suddenly and roughly converted into a temporary police station. The woman with the cheroot took no particular interest until Jane had given her name. Then Miss Hardcastle looked her in the face for the first time, and Jane felt quite a new sensation. She was already tired and frightened, but this was different. The face of the other woman affected her as the face of some men-fat men with small greedy eyes and strange disquieting smiles-had affected her when she was in her teens. It was dreadfully quiet and yet dreadfully interested in her. And Jane saw that some quite new idea was dawning on the woman as she stared at her: some idea that the woman found attractive, and then tried to put aside, and then returned to dally with, and then finally, with a little sigh of contentment, accepted. Miss Hardcastle lit her cheroot and blew a cloud of smoke towards her. If Jane had known how seldom Miss Hardcastle actually smoked she would have been even more alarmed. The policemen and policewomen who surrounded her probably did. The whole atmosphere of the room became a little different.

“Jane Studdock,” said the Fairy. “I know all about you, honey. You’ll be the wife of my friend Mark.”

While she spoke she was writing something on a green form.

“That’s all right,” said Miss Hardcastle. “You’ll be able to see Hubby again now. We’ll take you out to Belbury to-night. Now, just one question, dear. What were you doing down here at this time of night?”

“I had just come off a train.”

“And where had you been, honey?”

Jane said nothing.

“You hadn’t been getting up to mischief while Hubby was away, had you?”

“Will you please let me go,” said Jane. “I want to get home. I am very tired and it’s very late.”

“But you’re not going home,” said Miss Hardcastle.

“You’re coming out to Belbury.”

“My husband has said nothing about my joining him there.”

Miss Hardcastle nodded. “That was one of his mistakes. But you’re coming with us.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s an arrest, honey,” said Miss Hardcastle, holding out the piece of green paper on which she had been writing. It appeared to Jane as all official forms always appeared-a mass of compartments, some empty, some full of small print, some scrawled with signatures in pencil, and one bearing her own name; all meaningless.

“O-oh!” screamed Jane suddenly, overcome with a sensation of nightmare, and made a dash for the door. Of course she never reached it. A moment later she came to her senses and found herself held by the two policewomen.

“What a naughty temper!” said Miss Hardcastle playfully. “But we’ll put the nasty men outside, shall we?” She said something and the policemen removed themselves and shut the door behind them. As soon as they were gone Jane felt that a protection had been withdrawn from her.

“Well,” said Miss Hardcastle, addressing the two uniformed girls. “Let’s see. Quarter to one . . . and all going nicely. I think, Daisy, we can afford ourselves a little stand-easy. Be careful, Kitty, make your top grip under her shoulder just a little tighter. That’s right.” While she was speaking Miss Hardcastle was undoing her belt, and when she had finished she removed her tunic and flung it on the sofa, revealing a huge torso, uncorseted (as Bill the Blizzard had complained), rank, floppy, and thinly clad; such things as Rubens might have painted in delirium. Then she resumed her seat, removed the cheroot from her mouth, blew another cloud of smoke in Jane’s direction, and addressed her.

“Where had you been by that train?” she said. And Jane said nothing; partly because she could not speak, and partly because she now knew beyond all doubt that these were the enemies of the human race whom the Director was fighting against and one must tell them nothing. She did not feel heroic in making this decision. The whole scene was becoming unreal to her: and it was as if between sleeping and waking that she heard Miss Hardcastle say, “I think, Kitty dear, you and Daisy had better bring her round here.” And it was still only half real when the two women forced her round to the other side of the table, and she saw Miss Hardcastle sitting with her legs wide apart and settling herself in the chair as if in the saddle; long leather-clad legs projecting from beneath her short skirt. The women forced her on, with a skilled, quiet increase of pressure whenever she resisted, until she stood between Miss Hardcastle’s feet: whereupon Miss Hardcastle brought her feet together so that she had Jane’s ankles pinioned between her own. This proximity to the ogress affected Jane with such horror that she had no fears left for what they might be going to do with her. And for what seemed an endless time Miss Hardcastle stared at her, smiling a little and blowing smoke in her face.

“Do you know,” said Miss Hardcastle at last, “you’re rather a pretty little thing in your way.”

There was another silence.

“Where had you been by that train?” said Miss Hardcastle.

And Jane stared as if her eyes would start out of her head and said nothing. Then suddenly Miss Hardcastle leant forward and, after very carefully turning down the edge of Jane’s dress, thrust the lighted end of the cheroot against her shoulder. After that there was another pause and another silence.

“Where had you been by that train?” said Miss Hardcastle.

How many times this happened Jane could never remember. But somehow or other there came a time when Miss Hardcastle was talking not to her but to one of the women. “What are you fussing about, Daisy?” she was saying.

“I was only saying, ma’am, it was five past one.”

“How time flies, doesn’t it, Daisy? But what if it is? Aren’t you comfortable, Daisy? You’re not getting tired, holding a little bit of a thing like her?”

“No ma’am, thank you. But you did say, ma’am you’d meet Captain O’Hara at one sharp.”

“Captain O’Hara?” said Miss Hardcastle dreamily at first, and then louder, like one waking from a dream. Next moment she had jumped up and was putting on her tunic. “Bless the girl!” she said, “what a pair of blockheads you are! Why didn’t you remind me before?”

“Well ma’am, I didn’t exactly like to.”

“Like to! What do you think you’re there for?”

“You don’t like us to interrupt, ma’am, sometimes, when you’re examining,” said the girl sulkily.

“Don’t argue!” shouted Miss Hardcastle, wheeling round and hitting her cheek a resounding blow with the palm of her hand. “Look sharp. Get the prisoner into the car. Don’t wait to button up her dress, idiots. I’ll be after you the moment I’ve dipped my face in cold water.”

A few seconds later, pinioned between Daisy and Kitty, but still close to Miss Hardcastle (there seemed to be room for five in the back of the car), Jane found herself gliding through the darkness. “Better go through the town as little as possible, Joe,” said Miss Hardcastle’s voice. “It’ll be pretty lively by now. Go on to the Asylum and work down those little streets at the back of the close.” There seemed to be all sorts of strange noises and lights about. At places, too, there seemed to be a great many people. Then there came a moment when Jane found that the car had drawn up. “What the hell are you stopping for?” said Miss Hardcastle. For a second or two there was no answer from the driver except grunts and the noise of unsuccessful attempts to start up the engine. “What’s the matter” repeated Miss Hardcastle sharply. “Don’t know, ma’am,” said the driver, still working away. “God!” said Miss Hardcastle, “can’t you even look after a car? Some of you people want a little humane remedial treatment yourselves.” The street in which they were was empty but, to judge by the noise, it was near some other street which was very full and very angry. The man got out, swearing under his breath, and opened the bonnet of the car. “Here,” said Miss Hardcastle. “You two hop out. Look round for another car-anywhere within five minutes’ walk-commandeer it. If you don’t find one, be back here in ten minutes, whatever happens. Sharp.” The two other policemen alighted, and disappeared at the double. Miss Hardcastle continued pouring abuse on the driver and the driver continued working at the engine. The noise grew louder. Suddenly the driver straightened himself and turned his face (Jane saw the sweat shining on it in the lamplight) towards Miss Hardcastle. “Look here, miss,” he said, “that’s about enough, see? You keep a civil tongue in your head, or else come and mend the bloody car yourself if you’re so bloody clever.” “Don’t you try taking that line with me, Joe,” said Miss Hardcastle, “or you’ll find me saving a little word about you to the ordinary police.” “Well, suppose you do?” said Joe. “I’m beginning to think I might as well be in clink as in your bucking tea-party. ’struth! I’ve been in the military police and I’ve been in the Black and Tans and I’ve been in the B.U.F . . . but they were all ruddy picnics to this lot. A man got some decent treatment there. And he had men over him, not a bloody lot of old women.” “Yes, Joe,” said Miss Hardcastle, “but it wouldn’t be clink for you this time if I passed the word to the ordinary cops.”

“Oh, it wouldn’t, wouldn’t it? I might have a story or two to tell about yourself if it came to that.”

“For the lord’s sake speak to him nicely, ma’am,” wailed Kitty. “They’re coming. We’ll catch it proper.” And in fact men running, by twos and threes, had begun to trickle into the street.

“Foot it, girls,” said Miss Hardcastle. “Sharp’s the word. This way.”

Jane found herself hustled out of the car and hurried along between Daisy and Kitty. Miss Hardcastle walked in front. The little party darted across the street and up an alley on the far side.

“Any of you know the way here?” asked Miss Hardcastle when they had walked a few steps.

“Don’t know, I’m sure, ma’am,” said Daisy.

“I’m a stranger here myself, ma’am,” said Kitty.

“Nice useful lot I’ve got,” said Miss Hardcastle. “Is there anything you do know?”

“It doesn’t seem to go no farther, ma’am,” said Kitty.

The alley had indeed turned out to be a dead end. Miss Hardcastle stood still for a moment. Unlike her subordinates, she did not seem to be frightened, but only pleasantly excited, and rather amused at the white faces and shaky voices of the girls.

“Well,” she said, “this is what I call a night out. You’re seeing life, Daisy, aren’t you? I wonder are any of these houses empty? All locked anyway. Perhaps we’d best stay where we are.”

The shouting in the street they had left had grown louder and they could see a confused mass of humanity surging vaguely in a westward direction. Suddenly it became much louder still and angrier.

“They’ve caught Joe,” said Miss Hardcastle. “If he can make himself heard he’ll send them up here. Blast! This means losing the prisoner. Stop blubbering, Daisy, you little fool. Quick. We must go down into the crowd separately. We’ve a very good chance of getting through. Keep your heads. Don’t shoot, whatever you do. Try to get to Billingham at the cross roads. Ta-ta Babs! The quieter you keep the less likely we are to meet again.”

Miss Hardcastle set off at once. Jane saw her stand for a few seconds on the fringes of the crowd and then disappear into it. The two girls hesitated and then followed. Jane sat down on a doorstep. The burns were painful where her dress had rubbed against them, but what chiefly troubled her was extreme weariness. She was also deadly cold and a little sick. But, above all, tired; so tired she could drop asleep almost . . .

She shook herself. There was complete silence all about her: she was colder than she had ever been before and her limbs ached. “I believe I have been asleep,” she thought. She rose, stretched herself, and walked down the desolate lamp-lit alley into the larger street. It was quite empty except for one man in a railway uniform who said “Good morning, miss” as he walked smartly past. She stood for a moment, undecided, and then began to walk slowly to her right. She put her hand in the pocket of the coat which Daisy and Kitty had flung round her before leaving the flat and found three-quarters of a large slab of chocolate. She was ravenous and began munching it. Just as she finished she was overtaken by a car which drew up shortly after it had passed her. “Are you all right?” said a man, poking his head out.

“Were you hurt in the riot?” said a woman’s voice from within.

“No . . . not much . . . I don’t know,” said Jane stupidly.

The man stared at her and then got out. “I say,” he said, “You don’t look too good. Are you sure you’re quite well?” Then he turned and spoke to the woman inside. It seemed so long to Jane since she had heard kind, or even sane, voices that she felt like crying. The unknown couple made her sit in the car and gave her brandy and, after that, sandwiches. Finally they asked if they could give her a lift home. Where was her home? And Jane, somewhat to her surprise, heard her own voice very sleepily answering,

“The Manor, at St. Anne’s.” “That’s fine,” said the man, “We’re making for Birmingham and we have to pass it.” Then Jane fell asleep at once again, and awoke only to find herself entering a lighted doorway and being received by a woman in pyjamas and an overcoat who turned out to be Mrs. Maggs. But she was too tired to remember how or where she got to bed.