The gates and avenue passed quickly by — I was walking normally now, being in the shade — as I meditated on this new development, and attempted to devise various explanations which might extricate me from it. Presendy I reached the front of the big house, where I saw the Maddens’ blue car parked where it had been when I left. Rather than dwelling on my deliverance from shame, however, I found the train of thought which had borne me all the way from the road to the house abruptly derailed by the sight of an unfamiliar car parked in the drive beside the Maddens’. As at the station the day before, I felt the jolt of a collision in my mind where there should have been a smooth transfer from one concern to the next. What had been an entire subterranean network circulating a multifarious cargo of concerns was apparently now a frustratingly parochial arrangement incapable of conveying more than one thought at a time. All interest in the Maddens’ car immediately vanished, as I laboured over the meaning of the new arrival. To whom did this car belong? Was it anything to do with me? If so, a second route of questioning opened out: had someone come to look for me? Had I been reported for some instance of deviance? Was I to be arrested? If not, one could safely move on to the assumption that the car belonged to visitors of the Maddens, most probably the lunch guests Pamela had mentioned the night before.
Having no further business there in the drive, I plunged into the undergrowth. After some thrashing about, I emerged, rather breathless, on the path at the side of the house, to find Mr Madden standing a few paces away from me. He was carrying a tray with glasses on it, and had evidently been about to enter the house by the side door when he had heard my scuffing in the hedge.
‘What are you doing?’ he said; not unpleasantly, but with a kind of amused astonishment.
‘I didn’t want to come through the house,’ I panted. ‘I saw the car in the drive and thought that you might have guests.’
‘Ah!’ said Mr Madden, nodding as if he understood. ‘You needn’t have worried, we’re all out in the garden.’
‘Oh,’ I said.
‘Did you know there was a gate?’ enquired Mr Madden.
‘No, I didn’t,’ I replied, although I would have thought that was obvious.
‘It’s just there,’ he said, balancing the tray on one hand and pointing with the other, ‘It leads directly to the drive. We don’t expect you to have to fight your way through the hedge every time you want to go out, you know.’
He gave his peculiar bark.
‘That’s a relief,’ I said, with false cheer.
Just then, I heard footsteps approaching along the gravel path behind Mr Madden.
‘Piers!’ called Pamela, as she emerged around the corner. She stopped in her tracks at the sight of me. ‘What on earth has happened to you?’ she said; again, not unpleasantly, but with the same humorous dismay as her husband.
‘She had a tussle with the hedge,’ said Mr Madden.
‘Good God,’ said Pamela, drawing closer. ‘You’re all scratched — and look, you’ve torn your skirt! What have you been doing?’
I looked down at my legs and saw that they had indeed been badly scratched. One or two of the scratches were bleeding.
‘I came through the hedge,’ I repeated miserably. ‘I didn’t want to disturb you.’
‘Gracious, she must think we’re utter monsters. We obviously frightened the living daylights out of her yesterday, darling,’ said Pamela to her husband.
‘No, not at all!’ I cried.
‘Didn’t know about the gate,’ interrupted Piers. ‘She thought she just had to hack her way through.’
‘Is there any damage? You mustn’t do that, you know,’ said Pamela. ‘Mr Thomas will be distraught if his beds have been trampled under foot.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said.
‘Oh, well,’ said Pamela. ‘Piers can have a look at it later. You’d better go and get yourself cleaned up. Darling, do you want to get on with the drinks?’
‘Righty-ho,’ said Mr Madden, opening the door.
‘And put some more of those salmon things on a plate, would you?’ called Pamela after him.
I moved forward, hoping that I would be able to slip by while her back was turned.
‘Stella, don’t creep off,’ said Pamela, turning around abruptly and stepping into my path. She put her arm around me. Her body felt small and hard beside mine. I could smell her perfume. ‘Piers and I very much want you to feel at home here. I know it’s been a bit of a madhouse so far, but everything should quieten down tomorrow,’
She tightened her arm and bent her head towards mine in a concerned way. I felt very awkward. My plastic bag was still clutched in my hand.
‘OK,’ I said.
‘You mustn’t feel that you have to go sneaking about,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you come over and have a swim later, after everyone’s gone? It’s so hot, you could probably do with a good cool down. The pool’s absolutely lovely at the moment. Go on, it would do you good.’
I hadn’t known that the Maddens had a swimming pool, but at that moment, as if to prove it, I heard faint splashing sounds and cries of laughter coming from the back of the house.
‘I might do,’ I said. ‘I’ve got quite a few things I want to do this afternoon.’
‘Well, it’s up to you,’ said Pamela, releasing her arm.
‘If not, I’ll see you in the morning,’ I added, worried that she was angry with me.
‘Right,’ said Pamela remotely, looking through the door to the house as if anticipating the appearance of Piers.
‘At eight thirty,’ I continued.
Pamela glanced at me again, as if she had forgotten I was there.
‘Well, come if you feel like it,’ she said, turning and crunching off down the path.
I stood for a moment, confused. Had she meant come in the morning if I felt like it, or come swimming? I headed quickly towards the cottage, not wishing still to be standing around when Mr Madden returned.
Chapter Six
The damage I had done to myself during my walk surprised me, for I had been overwhelmed by feelings of good health both on the outward and return journey. Reflected in one of the cottage windows as I came up through the garden, I looked positively wild. What must they have thought of me in the respectable village of Hilltop? Worse still, what impression of myself could I have given the Maddens? My legs were the worst, particularly about the calves and ankles, which were raw and cross-hatched with a pattern of scratches. I had also been bitten by insects in various places, and my skin had risen there in a series of small red bumps.
I went to the bathroom, intending to run cold water over my legs. As I took off my shoes, I noticed that they were spotted with patches of a sticky black substance. I touched it lightly and then smelt it, after some time deducing that it was tar. Retracing my steps to the front door, I found that I had tracked tar across the sitting room carpet and kitchen floor. The carpet was quite a pale beige colour, and more or less mined. For a moment I was bewildered by this scene of destruction. Being very tired, I resisted fiercely the idea of doing anything other than rest, and as I stood there gazing at the floor found myself overcome by feelings of denial and indifference. Even though I was harried by the sight of the damage done to the Maddens’ property, and despite the fact that I knew responsibility for erasing it to be mine and mine alone, I could not, in that moment, bring myself to do anything about it. I did, however, work out that the tar must have come from the surface of the road, which had felt remarkably soft beneath my feet in places and must, I now saw, have melted in the heat. I had not known that roads could do that; indeed, never having really walked on one, I had not given roads even the slightest consideration before in my life.