Read The People in the Castle: Selected Strange Stories for Free Online

peacefully, sitting on a stool made from compressed ice-cream cartons, and sipping her own mint tea. She had developed a hobby, she wove belts and neckties out of words picked up off the ground, know what I mean, ever such a nice person, fun for the whole family, labour-saving devices . She also, sometimes, made jewelry out of smaller words, polished— level, noon, civic, peep . Or she would make a pendant out of a few words strung together into a sentence: Stiff, O Dairyman, in a myriad of fits. Was it a cat I saw?
    Miles could not see the point of these activities. Still, he had to admit that she meant well and her mint tea was drinkable.
    “But it’s no good, you know,” she remarked. “Old Leon’s not shrinking.” For some reason, she always referred to Noel by his pet name. Miles could never understand why.
    “I’m the one who’s shrinking,” he muttered, wiping the sweat from his forehead. Indeed he was thin as a hoe from hard work and scanty meals. “Maybe I’ll give up and turn the job in.”
    Hannah gave him an impatient glance, but sighed and swallowed whatever she had been about to say. Instead she asked with seeming irrelevance, “How far does the forest go each way?”
    “Didn’t you know?” He stared at her in disapproval. “Why, it goes all the way round. Don’t you know that? Where in the world did you go to school?”
    “Why—” She gaped at him. “ You taught me, of course. At Concrete College. Didn’t you recognize me? I knew, right away. We used to call you Selim. And I used to blow cake crumbs at you through a pipette.”
    Studying her carefully, a thing he had never troubled to do before, Miles began to recognize her. Saucy, she had been called in those days, because her initials were H. P., and she had been quite the worst of all his persecutors, a fat pop-eyed mocking girl; despite being one of the dumbest of his students, didn’t know a dipthong from a doughnut, she always had a sharp answer ready when he bawled at her, something that would make the rest of the class fall about laughing. He had really detested her, she had been one of the reasons why he gave up teaching. Now he saw that she looked much the same, really, only she wasn’t fat now, and her eyes didn’t pop out, though they were still big and grey, like glass marbles, and she wore a sadder, more thoughtful expression.
    “Funny you not recognizing me,” she said. “I always thought you knew me. More tea?”
    “If there is a cup,” said Miles. “I thought you were a horrible girl.”
    “Now I thought you were rather a duck,” said Hannah. “That’s what made it fun to see you get all hot and bothered.”
    He had been like an owl, she thought fondly—a moulting, downy owl, blinking in unkind daylight.
    “Er—I never asked—why do you want to go into the forest?” he inquired.
    “Oh well. I always thought I’d like to make a kind of thing out of words. You know? Like a sort of—well—like a kind of sculpture.”
    For a moment Miles had a flash of what she meant—a big, shapely, intricate structure, that would shine and glow and sparkle, and give out dark as well.
    Rather sourly he remarked, “I’d be very surprised if they let you in for that reason,” blowing his swollen tender nose for the hundredth time that hour. And missed the glance of sympathy she gave him.
    Next day her lizard, which had been getting a highly nourishing diet of all the crisps, nougat, and Danish pastries thought unsuitable for Noel, was found to have grown the necessary ten grammes.
    “I suppose you’ll be on your way now,” grunted Miles, shoveling Noel’s mash into the rack. And he added flatly, “Congratulations,” as if his feet hurt him.
    “ Well, ” said Hannah, “I’ve been thinking: how would it be if I swopped my lizard for Noel? You’re in a hurry. I don’t mind waiting. You could take the lizard and go into the forest.”
    Miles was utterly astounded. For a moment he thought he must have misheard