LAMB TO

SLAUGHTER
Short Stories by
1 2 Roald Dahl

Published by
Chesney Fouche
 CONTENTS
Lamb to Slaughter 01
3 4

The Landlady 20
 1
LAMB TO
SLAUGHTER

, d e s o l c er e w s n i a t r u c e h t , m r a w s a w m o or e h T
draobpuc eht nO .til erew spmal elbat owt eht
emos dna sessalg owt erew ereht reh dniheb
saw yenolaM yraM . sknird
m or f e m o h e m o c o t d n a b s u h r e h r o f g n i t i a w
.krow
,kcolc eht ta decnalg ehs niaga dna woN
detnaw ylerem ehS :yteixna tuohtiw tub
5 5 taht etunim hcae taht flesreh yfsitas ot
nehw emit eht reraen ti edam yb tnew
revo tneb ehs sA .emoh emoc dluow eh
.lufecaep ylsuoiruc saw ehs ,gniwes reh
a gnitcepxe htnom htxis reh saw sihT
htiw ,seye reh dna htuom reH .dlihc
dna regral demees ,kool mlac wen rieht
.erofeb naht rekrad
ehs ,evfi ot setunim net dias kcolc eht nehW
-cnup ,retal stnemom wef a dna ,netsil ot nageb
eht no serit rac eht draeh ehs ,syawla sa yllaut
spetstoof ,gnisolc rood rac eht ,edistuo senots
eht ni gninrut yek eht ,wodniw eht gnissap
ssik ot drawrof tnew dna pu doots ehS .kcol
 The room was warm, the curtains were closed,
the two table lamps were lit. On the cupboard
behind her there were two glasses and some
drinks. Mary Maloney was waiting for her hus-
band to come home from work.
Now and again she glanced at the clock, but
without anxiety: She merely wanted to satisfy
herself that each minute that went by made it
6 nearer the time when he would come home. 7
As she bent over her sewing, she was curiously
peaceful. This was her sixth month expecting a
child. Her mouth and her eyes, with their new
calm look, seemed larger and darker than before.
When the clock said ten minutes to five, she
began to listen, and a few moments later, punc-
tually as always, she heard the car tires on the
stones outside, the car door closing, footsteps
passing the window, the key turning in the lock.
She stood up and went forward to kiss him as
he entered. “Hello,”
he answered.
“Hello, darling,” she said.
 She took his coat and hung it up. Then she When he came back, she noticed that the new
made the drinks, a strong one for him and a drink was a very strong one. She watched him
weak one for herself; and soon she was back as he began to drink.
again in her chair with the sewing, and he was
“I think it’s a shame,” she said,
in the other chair, holding the tall glass, roll-
ing it gently so that the ice knocked musically “that when someone’s been a policeman as long
against the side of the glass. as you have, he still has to walk around all day
long.” He didn’t answer.
For her, this was always a wonderful time of
day. She knew he didn’t want to speak much “Darling,” she said,”
until the first drink was finished, and she was
If you’re too tired to eat out tonight, as we
satisfied to sit quietly, enjoying his company
had planned, I can fix you something. There’s
after the long hours alone in the house. She
plenty of meat and stuff in the freezer.” Her
loved the warmth that came out of him when
eyes waited to an answer, a smile, a nod, but he
they were alone together. She loved the shape
made no sign. “Anyway,” she went on. “I’ll get
of his mouth, and she especially liked the way
8 9 you some bread and cheese.”
he didn’t complain about being tired.
“I don’t want it,” he said.
“Tired, darling?”
She moved uneasily in her chair. “But you have
“Yes,” he sighed. “I’m thoroughly exhausted.
to have supper. I can easily fix you something.
And as he spoke, he did an unusual thing. He I’d like to do it. We can have lamb. Anything you
lifted his glass and drank it down in one swal- want. Everything’s in the freezer.”
low although there was still half of it left. He got
“Forget it,” he said.
up and went slowly to get himself another drink.
“I’ll get it!” she cried, jumping up.
“Sit down,” he said.
 “But, darling, you have to eat! I’ll do it anyway,
and then you can have it or not, as you like.”
She stood up and put placed her sewing on
the table by the lamp.
“Sit down,” he said.
“Just for a minute, sit down.” It wasn’t until then
that she began to get frightened.
“Go on,” he said. “Sit down.”
She lowered herself into the chair, watching him
all the time with large, puzzled eyes. He had
finished his second drink and was staring into
the glass. “Listen,” he said. “I’ve got something
to tell you.”
10 “What is it, darling? What’s the matter?” 11

He became absolutely motionless, and he kept

his head down.
“This is going to be a big shock to you, I’m
afraid,” he said. “But I’ve thought about it a
good deal and I’ve decided that the only thing
to do is to tell you immediately.” And he told
her. It didn’t take long, four or five minutes at
most, and she sat still through it all, watching
him with puzzled horror.
“So there it is,” he added. “And I know it’s a
tough time to be telling you this, but there sim- and she sat still through it all,
ply wasn’t any other way. watching him with puzzled horror.
 “Of course, I’ll give you money and see that
you’re taken care of. But there really shouldn’t
be any problem. I hope not, in any case. It
wouldn’t be very good for my job.”
Her first instinct was not to believe any of it.
She thought that perhaps she’d imagined the
whole thing. Perhaps, if she acted as though
she had not heard him, she would find out that
none of it had ever happened.
“I’ll fix some supper,” she whispered.

When she walked across the room, she couldn’t

“Don’t make
feel her feet touching the floor. She couldn’t feel
anything except a slight sickness. She did every-
thing without thinking. She went downstairs to

supper for me.

13
the freezer and took hold of the first object she
found. She lifted it out, and looked at it. It was

I’m going out,”

wrapped in paper, so she took off the paper and
looked at again
--- a leg of lamb.
he said
All right, then, they would have lamb for supper.
She carried it upstairs, held the thin end with
both her hands. S he went into the living
room, saw him standing by the window with
his back to her, and stopped.
“I’ve already told you,” He said.
“Don’t make supper for me. I’m going out.”
14 15
 At that point, Mary Maloney simply walked up
behind him and without any pause, she swung
the big frozen leg of lamb high in the air and
brought it down as hard as she could on the
back of his head. She might as well have hit
him with a steel bar.
She stepped back, waiting, and the strange
thing was that he remained standing there for
at least four or five seconds. Then he crashed
onto the carpet.
The violence of the crash, the noise, the small
table overturning, helped to bring her out of
the shock. She came out slowly, feeling cold
and surprised, and she stood for a few minutes,
16 looking at the body, still holding the piece of 17
meat tightly with both hands.
“All right”, she told herself.

“So, I’ve killed him” “So, I’ve

It was extraordinary, now, how clear her mind
became all of a sudden. She began thinking very
fast. As the wife of a detective, she knew what
killed him”
the punishment would be.
 It made no difference to her. In fact, it would “I want some potatoes, please, Sam. Yes, and
be a relief. On the other hand, what about the perhaps a can of beans, too. Patrick’s decided
baby? What were the laws about murderers he’s tired and he doesn’t want to eat out to-
with unborn children? Did they kill them both-- night,” she told him. “We usually go out on
mother and child? Did they wait until the baby Thursdays, you know, and now I don’t have
was born? What did they do? Mary Maloney any vegetables in the house.”
didn’t know and she wasn’t prepared to take
“Then how about some meat, Mrs. Maloney?”
a chance.
asked the grocer.
She carried the meat into the kitchen, put it
“No, I’ve got meat, thanks, I’ve got a nice
into a pan, turned on the oven, and put the pan
leg of lamb, from the freezer.”
inside. Then she washed her hands, ran up-
stairs, sat down in front of the mirror, fixed her “Do you want these potatoes, Mrs. Maloney?
makeup, and tried to smile. “Oh, yes, they’ll be fine. Two pounds, please.”
The smile was rather peculiar. She tried again. “Anything else?” The grocer turned his head to
18 “Hello, Sam” she said brightly, aloud. The voice 19 one side, looking at her. “How about dessert?
sounded peculiar, too. “I want some french What are you going to give him for dessert?
potatoes, Sam. Yes, and perhaps a can of be- How about a nice piece of cake? I know he
an’s.” That was better. Both the smile and the likes cake.”
voice sounded better now. She practiced them
“Perfect,” she said.
several times more. Then she ran downstairs,
took her coat, and went out the back door, “He loves it.”
through the garden into the street. And when she had bought and paid for every-
It wasn’t six o’clock yet and the lights were still thing, she gave her brightest smile and said,
on in the neighbourhood grocery. “Hello, Sam,” “Thank you, Sam. Good night.”
she said brightly, smiling at the man in the shop.
And now, she told herself as she hurried back
“Good evening, Mrs. Maloney. How are you?” home, she was returning to her husband and he
was waiting for his supper.
 She had to cook it well and make it taste as
good as possible, because the poor man was
tired; and if she found anything unusual or ter-
rible when she got home, then it would be a
shock and she would have to react with grief
and horror. Of course, she was not expecting
to find anything unusual at home. She was just
going home with the vegetables on Thursday
evening to cook dinner for husband.
That’s the way, she told herself. Do everything
normally. Keep things absolutely natural and
there’ll be no need for acting at all. As she
entered the kitchen by the back door, she was
quietly singing to herself.
20 “Patrick!” she called. 21

“How are you, darling?”

She put the package on the table and went

into the living room; and when she saw him
lying there on the floor, it really was a shock.
All the old love for him came back to her, and
she ran over to him, knelt down beside him,
and began to cry hard. It was easy. No acting
was necessary.
A few minutes later, she got up and went to
the phone. She knew the number of the police “Quick! Come quickly!
station, and when the man at the other end Patrick’s dead.”
answered, she cried to him.
 “Who’s speaking?”
“Mrs. Maloney. Mrs. Patrick Maloney.”

“Do you mean that Patrick’s dead?”

“I think so, “ she cried. “He’s lying on the floor
and I think he’s dead.” “We’ll be there immedi-
ately,” the man said.
The car came very quickly, and when she op-
ened the front door, two policemen walked
in. She knew them both. She knew nearly all
the men at the police station. She fell into Jack
Noonan’s arms, crying uncontrollably. He put
“Who’s speaking?”
her gently into a chair.

“Mrs. Maloney. 23
“Is he dead?” she cried.
“I’m afraid he is. What happened?”
Mrs. Patrick Maloney.” In a few words she told her story about go-
ing to the grocer and coming back, when she
found him on the floor. While she was crying
and talking, Noonan found some dried blood on
the dead man’s head. He hurried to the phone.
Some other men began to arrive -- a doctor, two
detectives, a police photographer, and a man
who knew about fingerprints. The detectives
kept asking her a lot of questions. They always
treated her kindly.
 She told them how she’d put the meat into the and they tried to say cheering things to her.
oven -- “it’s there now”-- and how she had gone Jack Noonan walked into the kitchen, came out
to the grocers for vegetables and how she came quickly, and said, “Look, Mrs. Maloney. Did you
back to find him and how she came back to find know that your oven is still on, and the meat is
him lying on the floor. still inside?”
The two detectives were exceptionally nice to “Oh,” she said.
her. They searched the house. Sometimes Jack “So, it is! I’d better turn it off.” She returned
Noonan spoke to her gently. He told her that with tearful eyes. “Would you do me a favour?
her husband had been killed by a blow to the Here you all are, all good friends of Patrick’s,
back of the head. They were looking for the and you’re helping to catch the man who killed
weapon. The murderer might have taken it with him. You must be very hungry by now because
him, but he might have thrown it away or hid- it’s long past your supper time, and I know
den it. --- “It’s the old story,” he said. “Get the that Patrick would never forgive me if I let you
weapon, and you’ve got the murderer.” stay in the house without offering you anything
24 Later, one of the detectives sat down bes- 25 to eat.
ide her. Did she know, he asked, of anything Why don’t you eat up the lamb in the oven?”
in the house that could have been used as a
weapon? Would she look around to see if any- “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Noonan said.
thing was missing. “Please,” she begged. “Personally, I couldn’t eat a
The search went on. It began to get late -- it thing, but it’d be a favour to me if you ate it up.
was nearly nine o’clock. The men searching Then you can go on with your work.”
the rooms were getting tired. “Jack,” she said, The detectives hesitated, but they were hun-
“Would you like a drink? You must be extrem- gry, and in the end, they went into the kitchen
ely tired.” and helped themselves to supper. The woman
“Well,” he answered. “It’s not allowed by police stayed where she was and listened to them
rules, but since you’re a friend.” through the open door. She could hear them
speaking among themselves, and their voices
They stood around with drinks in their hands. were thick because their mouths were full
The detectives were uncomfortable with her of meat.
 “Have some more, Charlie.”

“No, we’d better not finish it.”

“She wants us to finish it. She said we ought to

eat it up.”

“That’s a big bar the murderer must have used

to hit poor Patrick. The doctor says the back
of his head was broken to pieces.

“That’s why the weapon should be easy to find.”

“Exactly what I say.”

“Whoever did it, he can’t carry a weapon that

big around with him.”
26 27
“Personally, I think the weapon is somewhere
near the house.”

“It’s probably right under our noses. What do

you think, Jack?”

And in the other room, Mary Maloney began to

laugh.
 2
THE LANDLADY

no nodnoL morf nwod dellevart dah revaeW ylliB

-niwS ta egnahc a htiw ,niart noonretfa wols eht
htaB ot tog eh emit eht yb dna ,yaw eht no nod
eht dna gnineve eht ni kcolc’o enin tuoba saw ti
yks yrrats raelc a fo tuo pu gnimoc saw noom
.ecnartne noitats eht etisoppo sesuoh eht revo
saw dniw eht dna dloc yldaed saw ria eht tuB
.skeehc sih no eci fo edalb tafl a ekil
ylriaf a ereht si tub“ ,dias eh ”,em esucxE“
” ? er e h m or f y a w a r a f o o t t o n l e t o h p a e h c
,derewsna retrop eht ”,nogarD dna lleB ehT yrT“
uoy ekat thgim yehT“ .daor eht nwod gnitniop
eht no gnola elim a fo retrauq a tuoba s’tI .ni
”.edis rehto
esactius sih pu dekcip dna mih deknaht ylliB
lleB ehT ot elim-retrauq eht klaw ot tuo tes dna
.erofeb htaB ot neeb reven dah eH .nogarD dna
rM tuB .ereht devil ohw enoyna wonk t’ndid eH
dah nodnoL ni ecffiO daeH eht ta edalsneerG
nwo ruoy dniF“ .ytic didnelps a saw ti mih dlot
dna gnola og neht dna“ ,dias dah eh ”,sgnigdol
ev’uoy sa noos sa reganaM hcnarB eht ot troper
”.delttes flesruoy tog
 Billy Weaver had travelled down from London
on the slow afternoon train, with a change at
Swindon on the way, and by the time he got to
Bath it was about nine o’clock in the evening
and the moon was coming up out of a clear
starry sky over the houses opposite the station
entrance. But the air was deadly cold and the
wind was like a flat blade of ice on his cheeks.

30
“Excuse me,” he said, “but is there a fairly
cheap hotel not too far away from here?”
“Try The Bell and Dragon,” the porter answered,
pointing down the road. “They might take you
in. It’s about a quarter of a mile along on the
other side.”
Billy thanked him and picked up his suitcase
and set out to walk the quarter-mile to The Bell
and Dragon. He had never been to Bath before.
He didn’t know anyone who lived there. But Mr
Greenslade at the Head Office in London had “Try The Bell
told him it was a splendid city. “Find your own
lodgings,” he had said, “and then go along and and Dragon,”
report to the Branch Manager as soon as you’ve
the porter answered.
got yourself settled.”
 Billy was seventeen years old. He was wearing There was a vase of yellow chrysanthemums,
a new navy-blue overcoat, a new brown trilby tall and beautiful, standing just underneath
hat, and a new brown suit, and he was feeling the notice. He stopped walking. He moved a
fine. He walked briskly down the street. He bit closer.
was trying to do everything briskly these days.
Green curtains (some sort of velvety material)
Briskness, he had decided, was the one com-
were hanging down on either side of the win-
mon characteristic of all successful business-
dow. The chrysanthemums looked wonderful
men. The big shots up at Head Office were
beside them. He went right up and peered
absolutely fantastically brisk all the time. They
through the glass into the room, and the first
were amazing.
thing he saw was a bright fire burning in the
There were no shops on this wide street that he hearth. On the carpet in front of the fire, a
was walking along, only a line of tall houses on pretty little dachshund was curled up asleep
each side, all them identical. They had porches with its nose tucked into its belly.
and pillars and four or five steps going up
The room itself, so far as he could see in the
to their front doors, and it was obvious that
32 33 half-darkness, was filled with pleasant furniture.
once upon a time they had been very swanky
There was a baby-grand piano and a big sofa
residences. But now, even in the darkness, he
and several plump armchairs; and in one corner
could see that the paint was peeling from the
he spotted a large parrot in a cage. Animals
woodwork on their doors and windows, and
were usually a good sign in a place like this,
that the handsome white façades were cracked
Billy told himself; and all in all, it looked to him
and blotchy from neglect.
as though it would be a pretty decent house to
Suddenly, in a downstairs window that was stay in. Certainly, it would be more comfort-
brilliantly illuminated by a street-lamp not six able than The Bell and Dragon.
yards away, Billy caught sight of a printed no-
On the other hand, a pub would be more conge-
tice propped up against the glass in one of the
nial than a boarding-house. There would be beer
upper panes. It said:
and darts in the evenings, and lots of people
BED AND BREAKFAST. to talk to, and it would probably be a good bit
cheaper, too. He had stayed a couple of nights
in a pub once before and he had liked it.
 He had never stayed in any boarding-houses,
and, to be perfectly honest, he was a tiny bit
frightened of them. The name itself conjured
up images of watery cabbage, rapacious land-
ladies, and a powerful smell of kippers in the
living-room.
After dithering about like this in the cold for
two or three minutes, Billy decided that he
would walk on and take a look at The Bell and
Dragon before making up his mind. He turned
to go. And now a queer thing happened to him.
He was in the act of stepping back and turn-
ing away from the window when all at once his
eye was caught and held in the most peculiar
manner by the small notice that was there. BED
34 35
AND BREAKFAST, it said. BED AND BREAFAST,
BED AND BREAKFAST, BED AND BREAKFAST.
Each word was like a large black eye staring at
him through the glass, holding him, compelling
him, forcing him to stay where he was and not
to walk away from that house, and the next
thing he knew, he was actually moving across
from the window to the front door of the house,
climbing the steps that led up to it, and reach-
ing for the bell.
He pressed the bell. Far away in a back room
he heard it ringing, and then at once — it must
have been at once because he hadn’t even had the door swung open and a woman
time to take his finger from the bell-button — was standing there.
 Normally you ring the bell and you have at
least a half-minute’s wait before the door opens.
But this dame was a like a jack-in-the-box. He
pressed the bell — and out she popped! It made
him jump.
She was about forty-five or fifty years old, and
the moment she saw him, she gave him a warm
welcoming smile.
“Please come in,” she said pleasantly.

She stepped aside, holding the door wide open,

and Billy found himself automatically starting

“How much do
forward into the house. The compulsion or,
more accurately, the desire to follow after her

you charge?”
into that house was extraordinarily strong.
37
“I saw the notice in the window,” he said, hold-
ing himself back.
he asked
“Yes, I know.”
“I was wondering about a room.”
“It’s all ready for you, my dear,” she said. She
had a round pink face and very gentle blue eyes.
“I was on my way to The Bell and Dragon,” Billy
told her. “But the notice in your window just
happened to catch my eye.”
“My dear boy,” she said, why don’t you come in
out of the cold?”
“How much do you charge?” he asked
38 39
 “Five and sixpence a night, The old girl is slightly dotty, Billy told himself.
including breakfast.” But at five and sixpence a night, who gives
a damn about that? — “I should’ve thought
It was fantastically cheap. It was less than half
you’d be simply swamped with applicants,”
of what he had been willing to pay.
he said politely.
“If that is too much,” she added, “then perhaps
I can reduce it just a tiny bit. Do you desire an “Oh, I am, my dear, I am, of course I am. But
egg for breakfast? Eggs are expensive at the mo- the trouble is that I’m inclined to be just a tee-
ment. It would be sixpence less without the egg.” ny-weeny bit choosy and particular — if you
see what I mean.”
“Five and sixpence is fine,” he answered.
“I should like very much to stay here.” “Ah, yes.”
“But I’m always ready. Everything is always
“I knew you would. Do come in.”
ready day and night in this house just on the off
She seemed terribly nice. She looked exactly like chance that an acceptable young gentleman will
the mother of one’s best school-friend welcom- come along. And it is such a pleasure, my dear,
40 ing one into the house to stay for the Christmas 41 such a very great pleasure when now and again
holidays. Billy took off his hat, and stepped over I open the door and I see someone standing
the threshold. there who is just exactly right.” She was half-
“Just hang it there,” she said, “and let me way up the stairs, and she paused with one hand
help you with your coat.”
on the stair-rail, turning her head and smiling
down at him with pale lips.
There were no other hats or coats in the hall.
There were no umbrellas, no walking-sticks — “Like you,” she added, and her blue eyes trav-
nothing. “We have it all to ourselves,” she said, elled slowly all the way down the length of
smiling at him over her shoulder as she led the Billy’s body, to his feet, and then up again.
way upstairs. On the first-floor landing she said to him, “This
“You see, it isn’t very often I have the pleasure
floor is mine.” They climbed up a second flight.
“And this one is all yours,” she said. “Here’s your
of taking a visitor into my little nest.”
room. I do hope you’ll like it.” She took him into
a small but charming front bedroom, switching
on the light as she went in.
 “The morning sun comes right in the window, “Very well, then. I’ll leave you now so that you
Mr Perkins. It is Mr Perkins, isn’t it?” can unpack. But before you go to bed, would
you be kind enough to pop into the sitting-
“No,” he said. “It’s Weaver.”
room on the ground floor and sign the book?
“Mr Weaver. How nice. I’ve put a water-bottle Everyone has to do that because it’s the law of
between the sheets to air them out, Mr Weaver. the land, and we don’t want to go breaking any
It’s such a comfort to have a hot water-bottle laws at this stage in the proceedings, do we?”
in a strange bed with clean sheets, don’t you She gave him a little wave of the hand and went
agree? And you may light the gas fire at any quickly out of the room and closed the door.
time if you feel chilly.”
Now, the fact that his landlady appeared to be
“Thank you,” Billy said. slightly off her rocker didn’t worry Billy in the
“Thank you ever so much.” He noticed that the least. After all, she was not only harmless —
bedspread had been taken off the bed, and that there was no question about that — but she was
the bedclothes had been neatly turned back on also quite obviously a kind and generous soul.
one side, all ready for someone to get in. He guessed that she had probably lost a son in
42 43
“I’m so glad you appeared,” she said, looking the war, or something like that, and had never
earnestly into his face. “I was beginning to get got over it.
worried.” So, a few minutes later, after unpacking his
“That’s all right,” Billy answered brightly. “You suitcase and washing his hands, he trotted
mustn’t worry about me.” He put his suitcase downstairs to the ground floor and entered the
on the chair and started to open it. living-room. His landlady wasn’t there, but the
fire was glowing in the hearth, and the little
“And what about supper, my dear? Did you man-
dachshund was still sleeping in front of it. The
age to get anything to eat before you came here?”
room was wonderfully warm and cosy. I’m a
“I’m not a bit hungry, thank you,” he said. “I lucky fellow, he thought, rubbing his hands.
think I’ll just go to bed as soon as possible This is a bit of all right.
because tomorrow I’ve got to get up rather
early and report to the office.” He found the guest-book lying open on the
piano, so he took out his pen and wrote down
his name and address.
 There were only two other entries above his on
the page, and, as one always does with guest-
books, he started to read them. One was a Chris-
topher Mulholland from Cardiff. The other was
Gregory W. Temple from Bristol. That’s funny,
he thought suddenly. Christopher Mulholland.
It rings a bell. Now where on earth had he
heard that rather unusual name before?
Was he a boy at school? No. Was it one of his
sister’s numerous young men, perhaps, or a
friend of his father’s? No, no, it wasn’t any
of those. He glanced down again at the book.
Christopher Mulholland, 231 Cathedral Road,
Cardiff. Gregory W. Temple, 27 Sycamore Drive,
Bristol. As a matter of fact, now he came to
44 45
think of it, he wasn’t at all sure that the second
name didn’t have almost as much of a familiar
ring about it as the first.
“Gregory Temple?” he said aloud, searching
his memory. “Christopher Mulholland?…”
“Such charming boys,” a voice behind him an-
swered, and he turned and saw his landlady
sailing into the room with a large silver tea-
tray in her hands. She was holding it well out
in front of her, and rather high up, as though
the tray were a pair of reins on a frisky horse.
“They sound somehow familiar,” he said.
“They do? How interesting.”
“They do? How interesting.
 “I’m almost positive I’ve heard those names be-
fore somewhere. Isn’t that queer? Maybe it was
in the newspapers. They weren’t famous in any
way, were they? I mean famous cricketers or
footballers or something like that?”
“Famous,” she said, setting the tea-tray down on
the low table in front of the sofa. “Oh no, I don’t
think they were famous. But they were extraor-
dinarily handsome, both of them, I can promise
you that. They were tall and young and hand-
some, my dear, just exactly like you.” Once more,
Billy glanced down at the book.

“It’s Weaver, “Look here,” he said, noticing the dates. “This

last entry is over two years old.”

W-e-a-v-e-r.” 47 “It is?”

“Yes, indeed. And Christopher Mulholland’s is

Billy said. nearly a year before that — more than three
years ago.”
“Dear me,” she said, shaking her head and hea-
ving a dainty little sigh. “I would never have
thought it. How time does fly away from us all,
doesn’t it, Mr Wilkins?”
“It’s Weaver,” Billy said. “W-e-a-v-e-r.”
 “Oh, of course it is!” she cried, sitting down on “I’ll think of it in a second. I’m sure I will.” he
the sofa. “How silly of me. I do apologise. In one said. There is nothing more tantalising than
ear and out the other, that’s me, Mr Weaver.” a thing like this which lingers just outside the
borders of one’s memory. He hated to give up.
“You know something?” Billy said. “Something
that’s really quite extraordinary about all this?” “Now wait a minute,” he said. “Wait just a min-
ute. Mulholland... Christopher Mulholland...
“No, dear, I don’t.”
wasn’t that the name of the Eton schoolboy
“Well, you see — both of these names, Mulhol- who was on a walking-tour through the West
land and Temple, I not only seem to remember Country, and then all of a sudden...”
each one of them separately, so to speak, but
“Milk?” she said.
somehow or other, in some peculiar way, they
both appear to be sort of connected together as “And sugar?”
well. As though they were both famous for the
“Yes, please. And then all of a sudden...”
same sort of thing, if you see what I mean —
like …like Dempsey and Tunney, for example, “Eton schoolboy?” she said. “Oh no, my dear,
48 49 that can’t possibly be right because my Mr
or Churchill and Roosevelt.”
Mulholland was certainly not an Eton school-
“How amusing,” she said.
boy when he came to me. He was a Cambridge
“But come over here now, dear, and sit down be- undergraduate. Come over here now and sit
side me on the sofa and I’ll give you a nice cup next to me and warm yourself in front of this
of tea and a ginger biscuit before you go to bed.” lovely fire. Come on. Your tea’s all ready for
you.” She patted the empty place beside her on
“You really shouldn’t bother,” Billy said. “I didn’t
the sofa, and she sat there smiling at Billy and
mean you to do anything like that.” He stood
waiting for him to come over. He crossed the
by the piano, watching her as she fussed about
room slowly, and sat down on the edge of the
with the cups and saucers. He noticed that she
sofa. She placed his teacup on the table in front
had small, white, quickly moving hands, and red
of him.
finger-nails.
“There we are,” she said. “How nice and
“I’m almost positive it was in the news-
papers I saw them,” Billy said. cosy this is, isn’t it?”
 Billy started sipping his tea. She did the same. “How old are you, my dear?” she asked.
For half a minute or so, neither of them spoke.
“Seventeen.”
But Billy knew that she was looking at him. Her
body was half-turned towards him, and he could “Seventeen!” she cried. “Oh, it’s the perfect age!
feel her eyes resting on his face, watching him Mr Mulholland was also seventeen. But I think
over the rim of her teacup. Now and again, he he was a trifle shorter than you are, in fact I’m
caught a whiff of a peculiar smell that seemed sure he was, and his teeth weren’t quite so
to emanate directly from her person. It was not white. You have the most beautiful teeth, Mr
in the least unpleasant, and it reminded him — Weaver, did you know that?” “They’re not as
well, he wasn’t quite sure what it reminded him good as they look,” Billy said.
of. Pickled walnuts? New leather? Or was it the “They’ve got simply masses of fillings in
corridors of a hospital? them at the back.”
“Mr Mulholland was a great one for his tea,” “Mr Temple, of course, was a little older,” she
she said at length. “Never in my life have I said, ignoring his remark. “He was actually
seen anyone drink as much tea as dear, sweet twenty eight. And yet I never would have gues-
50 Mr Mulholland.” 51
sed it if he hadn’t told me, never in my whole
“I suppose he left fairly recently,” Billy said. He life. There wasn’t a blemish on his body.”
was still puzzling his head about the two names. “A what?” Billy said.
He was positive now that he had seen them in
“His skin was just like a baby’s.”
the newspapers — in the headlines.
There was a pause. Billy picked up his teacup
“Left?” she said, arching her brows. and took another sip of his tea, then he set it
“But my dear boy, he never left. He’s still here. down again gently in its saucer. He waited for
Mr Temple is also here. They’re on the third her to say something else, but she seemed to
floor, both of them together.” have lapsed into another of her silences. He sat
there staring straight ahead of him into the far
Billy set down his cup slowly on the table, and
corner of the room, biting his lower lip.
stared at his landlady. She smiled back at him,
and then she put out one of her white hands “That parrot,” he said at last.
and patted him comfortingly on the knee.
 “You know something? It had me completely
fooled when I first saw it through the window
from the street. I could have sworn it was alive.”
“Alas, no longer.”
“It’s most terribly clever the way it’s been done,”
he said. “It doesn’t look in the least bit dead.
Who did it?”
“I did.”
“You did?”
“Of course,” she said. “And have you met my
little Basil as well?” She nodded towards the
dachshund curled up so comfortably in front of
the fire. Billy looked at it. And suddenly, he real-
52 ised that this animal had all the time been just 53

as silent and motionless as the parrot. He put

out a hand and touched it gently on the top of
its back. The back was hard and cold, and when
he pushed the hair to one side with his fingers,
he could see the skin underneath, greyish-black
and dry and perfectly preserved.
“Good gracious me,” he said. “How absolutely
fascinating.” He turned away from the dog and
stared with deep admiration at the little woman
beside him on the sofa. “It must be most aw-
fully difficult to do a thing like that.”
“Not in the least,” she said. “I stuff all my
little pets myself when they pass away.
“Will you have another cup of tea?”
 “No, thank you,” Billy said. The tea tasted
faintly of bitter almonds, and he didn’t much
care for it.
“You did sign the book, didn’t you?”

“Oh, yes.”
“That’s good. Because later on, if I happen to
forget what you were called, then I can always
come down here and look it up. I still do that
almost every day with Mr Mulholland and
Mr... Mr...”
“Temple,” Billy said. “Gregory Temple. Excuse
my asking, but haven’t there been any other
guests here except them in the last two or
three years?”
54 55
Holding her teacup high in one hand, inclining
her head slightly to the left, she looked up at
him out of the corners of her eyes and gave him
another gentle little smile.
“No, my dear,” she said.

“Only you.”
Written By: Roald Dahl

Published by Chesney Fouché

Published in South Africa in 2024 by Greenside Design Center
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Publication © 2024 by Chesney Fouché

Text © 1950 Roald Dahl
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public domain, are ficticious and any resemblance to real persons, living or
dead, is purely coincidental.

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No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or
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