And if the man thought this an odd request by a lady in a long cream and ivory winter coat and a bland and functional—though clearly expensive—hat, he gave no sign of it but sucked silently on his pipe and urged his own nag onwards, for the cab in front had suddenly picked up speed.

CHAPTER FIVE: ALWAYS DIFFERENT, ALWAYS THE SAME

CHAPTER FIVE

ALWAYS DIFFERENT, ALWAYS THE SAME

Alice Nimrod watched as first Mr Dunlevy then Mrs Dunlevy left the house. Mrs Dunlevy was on foot and this was unusual enough to be remarked upon, had there been someone to whom Alice might make such a remark. Not only did Mrs Dunlevy depart on foot, but she went bowling along the road at what might be described as a less than sedate pace. It might almost be described as a tearing hurry.

What the reason for this might be Alice could hardly imagine and did not care to try. The ways of her employers often made her wonder. If she did attempt to reason why something was one way or another, why they did this or did that, her reasoning faltered and she found herself all at odds with the world for a time, and sometimes at odds with God, too, so now she no longer tried to make sense of it.

She was satisfied simply in the knowledge that it was Friday. Of this, happily, there could be little dispute. The coalman had made his weekly delivery in the chill of a pre-dawn hour, stomping down the passage, the great sack on his shoulder, puffing and grunting and sweating. He was not quite human with his massive bulk, his coal-blackened face, his white staring eyes, more a thing arisen from the depths, and the black void of the coal hole led straight to Hell.

This was foolish but there it was. Alice could not shake the feeling. She always waited in the kitchen while the man came, deposited his devil’s load and departed. After he and his horse and cart had gone a coating of coal dust lay over everything. She tasted it at the back of her throat.