The Collector

 I could have done anything. I could have killed her. All I did later was because of that night.

 It was almost like she was stupid, plain stupid. Of course she wasn't really, it was just that she didn't see how to love me in the right way. There were a lot of ways she could have pleased me.

 She was like all women, she had a one-track mind.

 I never respected her again. It left me angry for days.

 Because I could do it.

 The photographs (the day I gave her the pad), I used to look at them sometimes. I could take my time with them. They didn't talk back at me.

 That was what she never knew.

 Well, I went down the next morning, and it was like it never happened. She didn't say a word about it, nor did I. I got her breakfast, she said she didn't want anything in Lewes, she went out in the cellar to walk a bit, and then I locked her back in and went off. Actually I had a sleep.

 That evening it was different.

 "I want to talk to you."

 Yes, I said.

 "I've tried everything. There's only one thing left for me to try. I'm going to fast again. I shan't eat until you let me go."

 Thanks for the warning, I said.

 "Unless . . ."

 Oh, so there's an unless, I said.

 "Unless we come to an agreement."

 She seemed to wait. I haven't heard it yet, I said.

 "I'm prepared to accept that you won't let me go at once. But I'm not prepared to stay any longer down here. I want to be a prisoner upstairs. I want daylight and some fresh air."

 Just like that, I said.

 "Just like that."

 As from this evening, I suppose, I said.

 "Very soon."

 I suppose I get a carpenter in, and the decorators and all.

 She sighed then, she began to get the message.

 "Don't be like this. Please don't be like this." She gave me a funny look. "All this sarcasm. I didn't mean to hurt you."

 It was no good, she had killed all the romance, she had made herself like any other woman, I didn't respect her any more, there was nothing left to respect. I knew her lark, no sooner she was up out of the room she was as good as gone.

 Still, what I thought was I didn't want the no-eating business again, so it was best to play for time.

 How soon, I said.

 "You could keep me in one of the bedrooms. It could be all barred and boarded up. I could sleep there. Then perhaps you'd tie me up and gag me and let me sit sometimes near an open window. That's all I ask."

 That's all, I said. What are people going to think with boarded-up windows all over the place?

 "I'd rather starve to death than stay down here. Keep me in chains upstairs. Anything. But let me have some fresh air and daylight."

 I'll think about it, I said.

 "No. Now."

 You're forgetting who's the boss.

 "Now."

 I can't say now. It needs thinking.

 "Very well. Tomorrow morning. Either you tell me I can come up or I don't touch any food. And that will be mur-der." Really fierce and nasty she looked. I just turned and went.

 I thought it all out that night. I knew I had to have time, I had to pretend I would do it. Go through the motions, as they say.

 The other thing I thought was something I could do when it came to the point.

 The next morning I went down, I said I'd thought things over, I saw her point, I'd looked into the matter, etcetera -- one room could be converted, but it would take me a week. I thought she would start sulking but she took it O.K.

 "But if this is another put-off, I will fast. You know that?"

 I'd do it tomorrow, I said. But it needs a lot of wood and bars special. It may take a day or two to get them.

 She gave me a good old tight look, but I just took her bucket.

 After that, we got on all right, except that I was pretending all the time. We didn't say much, but she wasn't sharp. One night she wanted a bath and she wanted to see the room and what I'd done. Well, I knew she would; I had got some wood and made it look as if I was seriously doing things to the window (it was a back bedroom). She said she wanted one of those old Windsor chairs in it (quite like old times, her asking for something) which I got the next day and actually took down and showed her. She wouldn't have it down there, it had to go back up. She said she didn't want anything she had (in the way of furniture) downstairs upstairs. It was dead easy. After she saw the room and the screw-holes she really seemed to think I was going to be soft enough to let her come up.

 The idea was I would go down and bring her up and we would have supper upstairs and then she would have her first night upstairs and in the morning she would see daylight.

 She got quite gay sometimes. I had to laugh. Well, I say laugh, but I was nervous, too, when the day came.

 The first thing she said when I went down at six was she had my cold, the one I got at the hairdresser in Lewes.

 She was all bright and bossy, laughing up her sleeve at me, of course. Only the joke was going to be on her.

 "These are my things for tonight. You can bring up the rest tomorrow. Is it ready?" She already asked that at lunch, and I said yes.

 I said, it's ready.

 "Come on then. Must I be tied?"

 There's just one thing, I said. One condition.