By Barbara Michaels
The home talked; Linda Randolph may possibly pay attention it. The items in it talked, too, however the house's voice used to be loudest. Linda used to be afraid that, as her husband recommended, she used to be wasting her brain. both that, or her husband was once concerned with darkish, brutal forces past the bounds of human sanity. Reissue.
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Additional resources for The Dark on the Other Side
Sprawled with her usual lack of grace in an armchair near the ﬁre, she raised a fat hand in greeting, and Linda saw her suddenly, not as the familiar friend, but as she must have appeared to a stranger, even one as tolerant and sophisticated as Michael Collins. She was a very ugly old woman. Her ugliness was not the distinguished plainness some homely girls acquire in old age; it was plain, unvarnished, positive ugliness, strengthened by cultivated sloppiness. Her wrinkled face was overlaid with a thick coating of powder; her lipstick, applied in a wide slash without the aid of a mirror, always left smears on cigarettes and glasses.
Fuchsia? ) White, of course. That pink wasn’t just pink, it was sort of rose-colored and sort of— “They’re azaleas,” said his guide, with amusement. ” Michael stared blankly at the bushes. “Azaleas. It does sound familiar. ” “Some of the varieties are rare. ” She was laughing, openly; the expression changed her face, robbed it of its oriental elusiveness. “I am, I am. Keep it up. ” “More likely they’ll think you’re a woman in disguise—or a bit odd. ” “Or cats,” Michael agreed. ” “Deﬁnitely not.
You must see the meadow. Gordon’s latest scheme, that is; he had it grass planted with daffodils and narcissi, like the meadow at Hampton Court; it’s really gorgeous. ” “You’d better take notes,” she advised. ” “I have an excellent memory. ” She went on chatting lightly about ﬂowers, pointing out different varieties, explaining that Gordon’s rose garden was one of the sights of the 34 Barbara Michaels neighborhood, and inviting him to come back in June, when it was at its best. The initial mood of their meeting, which had been shaken brieﬂy by that odd exchange of words and glances, was back in full force.
The Dark on the Other Side by Barbara Michaels