Lost in a Good Book (Thursday Next 2)

'At the moment. My husband—'

'The one whom you're not sure is alive or dead or married to you or not?'

'Yes,' I said firmly, 'that one.'

She smiled at this and added with a baleful stare:

'You wouldn't have an ulterior motive for joining me in Expectations, would you?'

'No,' I lied.

'Didn't come to do something else?'

'Absolutely not.'

'You're lying about something,' she announced slowly, 'but about what I'm not so sure. Children are such consummate liars. Have your servants recently left you?'

She was staring at the dirty dishes.

'Yes,' I l

ied again, not so keen on her disparagement any more. 'Domestic service is a tricky issue in 1985.'

'It's no bed of roses in the nineteenth century either,' Miss Havisham replied, leaning on the kitchen table to steady herself. 'I find a good servant but they never stay – it's the lure of them, you know, the liars, the evil ones.'

'Evil ones?'

'Men!' hissed Havisham contemptuously. 'The lying sex. Mark my words, child, for no good will ever come of you if you succumb to their charms – and they have the charms of a snake, believe me!'

'I'll try to keep on my toes,' I told her.

'And your chastity firmly guarded,' she told me sternly.

'Goes without saying.'

'Good. Can I borrow that jacket?'

She was pointing at Miles Hawke's Swindon Mallets jacket. Without waiting for a reply she put it on and replaced her veil with a SpecOps cap. Satisfied, she asked:

'Is this the way out?'

'No, that's the broom cupboard. This is the way out over here.'

We opened the door to find my landlord with his fist raised ready to knock.

'Ah!' he said in a low growl. 'Next!'

'You said I had until Friday,' I told him.

'I'm turning off the water. The gas, too.'

'You can't do that!'

He leered. 'If you've got six hundred quid on you, perhaps I can be convinced not to.'

But his smirk changed to fear as the point of Miss Havisham's stick shot out and caught him in the throat. She pushed him heavily against the wall in the corridor. He choked and made to move the stick but Miss Havisham knew just how much pressure was needed – she pushed the stick harder and he stayed his hand.

'Listen to me!' she snapped. 'Touch Miss Next's gas and water and you'll have me to answer to. She'll pay you on time, you worthless wretch – you have Miss Havisham's word on that!'