Talk to Me Tenderly, Tell Me Lies. John Davis Gordon

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СКАЧАТЬ he heard what sounded like a woman’s cry. He listened intently, and the cry came again. He opened the screen-door, leaned into the dark doorway and called tentatively:

      ‘Hullo?’

      He heard a muffled, anguished cry: ‘The kitchen door …’

      The man frowned, then descended the verandah steps. He turned towards the back where he presumed the kitchen would be. ‘Hullo …?’ he called.

      He heard another cry as he approached the kitchen door. ‘Hullo?’ Then he heard a woman’s voice:

       ‘Press the green button inside the door!’

      The man walked up to the screen-door uncertainly. It opened satisfactorily. He peered into the darkness.

       ‘There’s a green switch just inside!’

      He stepped into the dark kitchen and groped for the switch. The door clanged shut behind him as his hand found it. He pressed the switch and somewhere a diesel generator started up, and the kitchen lights came on. He stared.

      He saw a dead dog on the floor and a wild woman crouched on the kitchen table in her underwear. She cried: ‘There’s a snake!’

      The same instant he saw a long writhing streak across the floor. He whirled back to the door, but the handle was jammed. The snake seemed to bounce off the cupboard doors on the opposite wall, then it flashed around and streaked towards him. Helen screamed again and the man gargled in fright and scrambled across the kitchen out of its way. The huge snake hit the closed screen-door, then whirled around and disappeared back into the cupboard with a crashing of fruit jars. The man leapt up on to the table beside Helen.

      Helen McKenzie stared at the stranger crouched beside her on the table. He still had on his black crash-helmet, the visor up. He wore gauntlets reaching to his elbows and high black leather boots. His studded leather lumber-jacket was zipped up to a thin, unshaven face, dominated by a beak nose and dark eyes under heavy black eyebrows.

      ‘Who’re you?’ Helen whispered.

      The man saw a worn, frightened, pretty woman, her blonde hair awry, ringlets sticking to her sweaty neck.

      ‘Ben Sunninghill,’ he croaked.

      Helen’s mind was fumbling. ‘How’re we going to get rid of this snake?’

      Mr Sunninghill’s brown eyes were wide. He turned and looked fearfully at the dark cupboards, then shook his head. ‘I’m from New York,’ he said, as if that explained everything. He added: ‘I’ve just come to borrow a spanner.’

      ‘New York?’ Helen stared at him a long moment, then she dropped her head and sobbed. ‘Oh, thank God, anyway … Just thank God you’re here …’

      They crouched in the centre of the big table. Helen was still weepy about Oscar, but Ben Sunninghill was more composed now. He said hoarsely: ‘Where is he now?’

      Helen pointed at the open doors of the main cupboards.

      ‘Which end?’

      She shook her head. ‘They’re all inter-connected at floor level. He could be in any of them.’

      Ben pointed at the open cupboard on the opposite wall. ‘How do you know he’s not in there?’

      ‘I don’t. But when you came in I think I saw him go there.’ She pointed again.

      Ben looked very worried. Then he said hopefully:

      ‘Snakes are as frightened of us as we are of them, aren’t they?’

      ‘Oh God … King Browns are very aggressive, particularly when they’re frightened.’ She looked down at Oscar and her chin began to twitch.

      ‘If we jump off the table together and run for that back door—’

      ‘The bloody catch sticks, there’s a real trick to opening it.’

      Ben pointed at the other door. ‘That one?’

      ‘It’s bolted from the other side.’

      Ben Sunninghill looked unhappily around the kitchen for weapons. There was a meat-cleaver next to the sink and a broom on the floor. He gingerly reached down, picked it up, and looked at it with misgiving.

      ‘Have you got a gun in the house?’

      ‘Yes, but it’s in my bedroom. And it’s not a shotgun, it’s only a .303. Not much good for a snake.’

      Ben took a deep, unhappy breath. ‘I’ve got these boots and gauntlets, and the broom. If I make a dash for the back door and smash it open—’

      It was then that he noticed the cauldron of water boiling on the stove. He looked at it, then turned to the cupboard. He considered, then gingerly leant out with the broom and opened it wider. He peered.

      Nothing happened. He could see no snake in those shadows. He poked the broom into the clutter at the bottom. Instantly, there was a furious slithering noise and the terrible snake burst out midst a clatter of jars. Helen screeched as the creature flashed across the floor and disappeared into the smaller open cupboard opposite.

      Ben stared into the beast’s new lair. ‘Can you see him?’

      Helen peered. ‘Oh God, I think so …’

      Ben took a deep breath.

      ‘Right – listen. What I’m going to do is jump across on to the sink, and get that pot of boiling water. I’ll bring it back here, and then I’ll throw it on to that snake.’

      ‘Oh God …’ Helen whispered.

      Ben crouched carefully along the table, to the end. He gauged the distance to the sink. About five feet – easy enough, but could he make it back with a heavy cauldron of boiling water? He began to get to his feet. He straightened up shakily, his arms out to control his balance. Then he launched himself across the gap.

      He landed with a crash in the sink. He crouched there for a moment, trembling. He looked back at Helen.

      ‘Before I come back, you must crawl to the far end of the table, to counter-balance me.’

      Helen began to edge down the table. Ben looked at the heavy iron cauldron. It had a handle on each side, and it held about two and a half gallons. He got slowly to his feet. Crouching, he reached down to the handles. Even through his leather gauntlets, they were hot.

      ‘Use the oven-mitts!’ Helen gasped.

      The oven-mitts hung on a peg beside the stove. Ben pulled them on over his gauntlets; then bent forward and began to lift the cauldron. It was astonishingly heavy – and frightening, the boiling water seething in his straining grip. He crouched on the edge of the sink, straining under the treacherous weight. He turned carefully towards the end of the table, looked at Helen and croaked: ‘Ready?’

      She nodded desperately. Ben leant forward, stretched out a skinny leg, and he went for it, half jumping, half lunging across the СКАЧАТЬ