Chapter 3 3. Maureen and the Phone

The best thing about sunny days is that there is no place for dust to hide, and the clothes that come out of the air dry quickly, which is almost more time-saving than a clothes dryer.Maureen sprayed and wiped and rinsed and washed all the stains and bacteria on the table.The sheets had been washed and dried, and remade on her bed and Harold's.She was relieved that Harold, who had hardly been out of the house since he retired six months ago, was away.With nothing to do now, she was suddenly a little anxious and impatient.When he called Harold, he heard the familiar ringing of the marimba from upstairs.She listened to the nervously faltering recording on the phone: "Harold Fry's voicemail is here. I'm very sorry, but he—he's not there." There was a long pause, as if he was really looking around Like yourself.

It's past five o'clock.He never does.Even the usual sounds—the ticking of the wall clock in the living room, the roar of the refrigerator—were louder than usual.Where did he go? Maureen tried to distract herself with crossword puzzles in the newspaper, only to find that Harold had already done the easy ones.A terrible idea came to her mind: Harold was lying on the road with his mouth open.It finally happened.There are always people who have had a heart attack for days before being discovered.Or maybe her worst worry has come true, that he has inherited his father's dementia?The elderly died before they lived to sixty.Maureen ran all the way to find out the car keys and driving shoes.Then it occurred to her that Harold might be chatting with Rex.They may be discussing how to weed, the weather is fine.It's ridiculous.She changed her shoes at the front door and put the car keys back in place.

Maureen walked softly into a room.It has been said for many years that this is the best room in the house, but every time she goes in, she feels that she needs to wear a cardigan to be warm enough.There used to be a red cloth dining table and four upholstered chairs where they ate and drank every night.But that was twenty years ago.The desk is long gone now, and the bookshelves are filled with photo albums that no one looks at. "Where are you?" she murmured.The sheer curtains in front of the windows screened her from the outside world, filtering out its colors and textures.She likes it.The sun is starting to sink and the street lights will soon be on.

The phone rang, and Maureen rushed to the corridor to pick it up: "Harold?" There was a long silence. "Maureen, I'm Rex next door." She looked around helplessly.When he rushed over just now, he seemed to have stepped on something sharp. It must be that Harold threw something away again. "Are you all right, Rex? Are you out of milk again?" "Is Harold home?" "Harold?" Maureen heard her voice rise suddenly.If not with Rex, where was he? "Of course, he's back." Her voice was nothing like usual, flattened, as if very dignified, and sounded just like her mother.

"I was just a little worried because I didn't see him back. He said he was going to post a letter." Horrible images flashed through her mind: the ambulance, the police, her holding Harold's lifeless hand.I don't know if this is considered stupid, but her mind is like rehearsing, imagining the most terrible situation, so as to reduce the blow when she faces the facts.She repeated "Harold's home" again, and hung up before Rex could answer.She regretted it immediately afterwards, Rex was seventy-four years old and alone, and he was just being kind.Just as she was about to call back, the phone in her hand rang.Maureen regained that calm voice and said into the microphone: "Good evening, Rex."

"It's me." Maureen's calm voice suddenly rose to the sky: "Harold? Where have you been?" "I'm on the B3196 national road, just outside the bar in Lodiswe." He sounded in a good mood. Lodisway was almost five miles from their door.So he didn't have a heart attack or forget who he was on the street.Maureen secretly breathed a sigh of relief, and then a surge of anger rose again.But soon a new fear gripped her: "You haven't had a drink?" "Just had a glass of lemonade, and it felt good. I haven't had a good time in years. I also met a guy who sold satellite dishes, and he was very nice." He paused, as if about to announce some important news Same, "Maureen, I promise I'm going to Berwick. Walk."

She thought she must have misheard: "Walking? To Berwickshire on the Tweed? You?" He seemed to think it was funny, and said incoherently: "Yeah! Yeah!" Maureen swallowed, feeling her feet go weak, and she couldn't even speak: "Let me figure it out first. You walk over, To see Queenie Hennessy?" "I will walk there, and she will survive. I will cure her cancer." Her legs went limp again, and she had to reach out to support the wall: "I Don't think so. You can't cure someone's cancer, Harold, unless you're a doctor. And you'd make a mess cutting a piece of bread. It's ridiculous."

Harold laughed again, as if she wasn't talking about him but someone else. "I met a little girl at the gas station, and she inspired me. She believed she could save her aunt, and she was fine. She also taught me how to reheat a hamburger with cucumbers in it." He looks like he must.Maureen panicked and began to sweat: "Harold, you are already sixty-five years old, and the farthest you usually go is to pick up your car. And don't forget, you forgot your mobile phone today." He Tried to refute, but she continued in one breath: "Besides, where do you sleep at night?"

"I don't know." Harold couldn't laugh, and his voice became smaller and smaller, "But how can a letter be enough? Please, Maureen, I really want to go." He was so flattering, calling her name like a child, as if the decision was in her hands.But obviously he has made up his mind, it's too much.Maureen got angry and said, "Go, go! Go if you want! I see you Dartmoor—" There was a series of intermittent noises on the phone, and her hand holding the receiver couldn't help but widen. Strength, as if it was Harold. "Harold? Are you still in the bar?"

"No, no, I'm in the phone booth. There's a smell in here, I think there might be someone—" The call was cut off here.Maureen groped into the hall, found a chair and sat down.The deafening silence was worse than before he called, as if to swallow everything around him.The clock didn't run, the refrigerator didn't ring, and the birds in the garden didn't chirp.The words "Harolds, Burgers, Walk" echoed in her head; then came another name: Queenie Hennessy.After so many years, those long-buried memories began to tremble in her body. Maureen sat alone like this for a long time.Until night fell, the lanterns came on, and the amber lights reflected the night sky.