Creative Writing Lamb To The Slaughter

Lamb to the Slaughter By: Roald Dahl THE ROOM WAS WARM and clean, the curtains drawn, the two table lamps alight ­ hers and the one by the empty chair opposite. On the sideboard behind her, two tall glasses, soda water, whisky. Fresh ice cubes in the Thermos bucket. Mary Maloney was waiting for her husband to come home from work. Now and again she would glance up at the clock, but without anxiety, merely to please herself with the thought that each minute gone by made it nearer the time when he would come. There was a slow smiling air about her, and about everything she did. The drop of the head as she bent over her sewing was curiously tranquil. Her skin ­ for this was her sixth month with child ­ had acquired a wonderful translucent quality, the mouth was soft, and the eyes, with their new placid look, seemed
Then she washed her hands and ran upstairs to the bedroom. She sat down before the mirror, tidied her face, touched up her lips and face. She tried a smile. It came out rather peculiar. She tried again. 'Hullo Sam: she said brightly, aloud. The voice sounded peculiar too. 'I want some potatoes please, Sam. Yes, and I think a can of peas.' That was better. Both the smile and the voice were coming out better now. She rehearsed it several times more. Then she ran downstairs, took her coat, went out the back door, down the garden, into the street. It wasn't six o'clock yet and the lights were still on in the grocery shop. ‘Hullo Sam’ she said brightly, smiling at the man behind the counter. 'Why, good evening, Mrs Maloney. How're you?, 'I want some potatoes please, Sam. Yes, and I think a can of peas.' The man turned and reached up behind him on the shelf for the peas. ‘Patrick's decided he's tired and doesn't want to eat out tonight,' she told him. 'We usually go out Thursdays, you know, and now he's caught me without any vegetables in the house.' 'Then how about meat, Mrs Maloney?’ 'No, I've got meat, thanks. I got a nice leg of lamb, from the freezer.' 'Oh.' I don't much like cooking it frozen, Sam, but I'm taking a chance on it this time. You think it'll be all right?, 'Personally,' the grocer said, 'I don't believe it makes any difference. You want these Idaho potatoes?' 'Oh yes, that'll be fine. Two of those.' Anything else? ' The grocer cocked his head on one side, looking at her pleasantly. 'How about afterwards? What you going to give him for afterwards?' 'Well, what would you suggest, Sam?' The man glanced around his shop. ‘How about a nice big slice of cheesecake? I know he likes that.' 'Perfect,' she said. 'He loves it.' And when it was all wrapped and she had paid, she put on her brightest smile and said, ‘Thank you, Sam. Good night.' 'Good night, Mrs Maloney. And thank you.' And now, she told