Chapter 15 Chapter fifteen

"That linoleum looks fine, Mrs. Jones. You have a real knack for picking linoleum. The teapot is on the kitchen table. Go and drink yourself. I'll bring the tea up to Mr. Abernether." Miss Gilchrist walked quickly up the stairs with her tea.She knocked on Timothy's door, and there was a growl from inside, and she walked in briskly. "Coffee and biscuits, Mr. Abernether. I hope you're feeling brighter today. Such a lovely day." Timothy grunted a few times and said suspiciously: "Is there any fat floating on that glass of milk?" "Oh no, Mr. Abernethor. I skimmed it off very carefully. Besides, I brought the little strainer up so it wouldn't build up again. Some people like, you know, they say it's cream, and the truth is Up too."

"Idiot!" Timothy said. "What kind of cookies are those?" "Delicious digestive biscuits." "Not worth eating. Only ginger biscuits are worth eating." "I'm afraid I can't get gingerbread biscuits this Sunday. But those are really good. You'll know when you try them." "Thanks, I know what they smell like. Can't you move those curtains?" "I thought you might like a little sunshine. Such a sunny day." "I want this room to be dark. My headache is killing me. It's all paint. I'm always sensitive to paint. It's killing me."

Miss Gilchrist sniffed it, and said cheerfully: "It doesn't smell very much here. The workers are painting at the other end." "You're not as sensitive as I am. Is it necessary to put all the books I'm reading out of my reach?" "I'm sorry, Mr. Abernethir, but I didn't know you were reading all those books." "Where is my wife? I haven't seen her for over an hour." "Mrs. Abernether is resting on the sofa." "Tell her to come up here and rest." "I'll tell her, Mr. Abernether. But she may be asleep. How about another fifteen minutes?"

"No, tell her I need her now. Don't mess with that blanket. I like it that way." "Sorry, I thought it slipped down." "I like it to slide down. Go find Moody, I want her." Miss Gilchrist went back downstairs and tiptoed into the drawing-room, where Moody Abernether was on her feet reading a novel. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Abernether," she said apologetically. "Mr. Abernethir is looking for you." Moody put the novel aside with a look of shame. "My God," she said, "I'm going right away." She picked up the cane.

Timothy yelled as soon as she entered the door: "You're finally here!" "I'm sorry honey, I didn't know you needed me." "That woman you got would drive me nuts. Nagging like a crazy old hen. It's annoying. Quite a typical spinster." "I'm sorry she bothered you. She was just trying to help." "I don't want anyone's help. I don't want a nasty spinster babbling at me all the time. Besides, she's a fucking tease...." "Just a little bit, maybe." "Treating me like an annoying three-year-old! It's driving me crazy."

"I'm sure you're right. But please, Timothy, please please try not to be rude to her. I'm still in pretty bad shape...and you say she cooks pretty well." "Her cooking is all right," admitted Mr. Abernethir reluctantly. "Yes, she's a good cook. But keep her in the kitchen, that's all I ask. Don't let her come up and bother me." "Of course, dear, of course. What do you think?" "It's not good at all. I think you'd better ask Barton to come and see me. This paint smell is affecting my heart. Feel for my pulse... so irregular."

Moody touched without saying a word. "Timothy, shall we go to the hotel and wait for the paint to come back?" "That would be a waste." "What does that matter... now?" "You're like all women... hopelessly extravagant! Just because we got a small portion of my brother's inheritance, you think we can live in the Ritz Hotel forever." "I didn't say that, dear." "I can tell you that the money Richard gave us wasn't enough to make a difference in our lives. This blood-sucking government will suck you up. You mark my words, nothing less than inheritance tax .”

Mrs. Abernether shook her head sadly. "The coffee is cold," he said with a disgusted glance at the cup of coffee he hadn't drunk yet. "Why can't I always have hot coffee?" "I'll take it down and warm it up." In the kitchen Miss Gilchrist was drinking tea and talking to Mrs Jones kindly, with some modesty. "I was anxious to do what I could for Mrs. Abernether, so that she might rest," she said. "It was too painful for her to crawl up and down." "She took care of him," Mrs. Jones said, stirring her coffee. "It's pathetic enough for a patient like him."

"Not a sick person either," said Mrs. Jones darkly. "He's fine, laying down comfortably and ringing the bell to be attended to up and down. But he can get up and walk. I've seen him go out into the village when she's gone. Walk Walked in good spirits. Anything he needed...like his tobacco or his stamps...he could get it himself. So she went to the funeral and was delayed on the way home and he asked me to stay overnight I refused. 'I'm sorry, sir,' I said, 'but I have to think about my husband first. It's okay to be out during the day, but I have to go back and take care of him when he comes home from get off work.' I wouldn't budge. I think , giving him a chance to move around and take care of himself would be good for him. Maybe he'll find he can do a lot of things. So I'm holding out against staying, really. There's nothing he can do about it."

Mrs. Jones took a deep breath and took a long gulp of the strong, sweet tea. "Ah," she sighed with satisfaction. Mrs. Jones, though deeply suspicious of Miss Gilchrist and at the same time seeing her as a fastidious fellow, a "typical fussy spinster", was very generous with Miss Gilchrist's distribution of her employer's tea and sugar I have a good impression. She put down her teacup and said courteously: "I'll give the kitchen floor a good scrub before I go. The potatoes are all peeled, dear, by the sink." Although Miss Gilchrist felt bad when she said "dear", and felt a little "insulted", she could appreciate her kindness, and a lot of potato skins had been peeled off.

When she was about to speak, the phone rang, and she hurried into the hall to answer it.The telephone of more than 50 years ago is inconveniently installed in a ventilation corridor behind the stairs. While Miss Gilchrist was still speaking into the microphone, Moody Abernether appeared at the top of the stairs.Miss Gilchrist looked up at her and said: "It's... Mrs. Leo... is it Leo? . . . Mrs. Leo Abernether." "Tell her I'll be right here." Moody went downstairs painfully and slowly. Miss Gilchrist murmured, "I'm sorry you have to come downstairs again, Mrs. Abernethy. Has Mr. Abernethy finished his tea? I'll go up and tidy up." . Mrs. Abernether said into the microphone: "Helen? I'm Moody." The patient upstairs looked at Miss Gilchrist with "a respectful aloofness".As she cleared away the tea tray, he asked anxiously: "Who's calling?" "Mrs. Leo Abernether." "Oh? They'll probably talk for another hour or so. Women don't have any sense of time when they talk on the phone. I never think about the money they waste." Miss Gilchrist replied cleverly that it was Mrs. Leo who should pay, and Timothy muttered a few times. "Draw the curtain over there, please? No, not over there, the other side. I don't want the light to shine directly into my eyes. That's about it. There's no reason I should sit in the dark all day just because I'm sick." In a dark room." He continued: "And help me find that green book on the shelf over there... What's the matter now? What are you going to do in a hurry?" "Someone is ringing the doorbell, Mr. Abernethir." "Why didn't I hear it. Isn't there a woman downstairs? Just let her go." "Yes, Mr. Abernethir. What book do you want me to look for?" The patient closes his eyes. "I can't remember. You've forgotten me. You'd better go." Miss Gilchrist picked up the tea tray and hurried away.Putting the tea tray back on the pantry table, she hurried into the hall again, past Mrs. Abernethy, who was still on the phone. After a while she came back and said in a low hoarse voice: "I'm sorry to interrupt you. It's a nun, asking for donations. I think she meant the Mary Love Foundation. She had a donation book. Most people seem to give three or five shillings." Moody Abernether says: "Wait a minute, Helen," then to Miss Gilchrist, "we have our own charities." Miss Gilchrist hurried off again. Moody spoke for a few more minutes before ending the phone conversation with one sentence: "I'll talk it over with Timothy." She put down the receiver and went to the front hall.Miss Gilchrist stood dreamily by the drawing-room door, frowning and wondering.Moody Abernether spoke to her and made her jump. "Is there any problem, Miss Gilchrist?" "Oh, no, Mrs. Abernethy. I'm afraid I'm just in a daze. I really shouldn't. There are so many things to do." Miss Gilchrist resumed her old aunt's busyness, and Maudy Abernether climbed the stairs painfully slowly to her husband's room. "A call from Helen. The house seems to be sold...a foreign refugee agency..." She paused, listening to Timothy talk about his perception of foreign refugees, interspersed with the house he grew up in. "The goodness of the country is gone. That's where I came from! It's unbearable to think about it." Moody continued. "Helen can feel very well how you ... we ... feel. She suggested that we live in the house for a while before handing over. She was very sorry for your health and the bad effects of the paint. She thought maybe you would rather live in the house. Enderby instead of staying in a hotel. The servants are still there and you can be well looked after." Timothy opened his mouth wide in protest, then closed it again.His eyes suddenly brightened, and he nodded in agreement. "Helen is so considerate," he said. "Very considerate. I don't know, I'm sure, I'll have to think about it. . . . That's right, the smell of paint is killing me. . . . Paint has arsenic, I believe. I think I've heard of it. On the other hand." , I may not be able to bear the long distance. It is difficult to decide what to do." "Maybe you'd rather be in a hotel, my dear," said Moody. "Good hotels are very expensive, but for your health..." Timothy interrupted her. "I wish I could make you understand, Moody, we're not millionaires. Why do we stay in a hotel when Helen has so kindly suggested we go to Enderby? And it wasn't she who suggested we go! The house wasn't Hers. I don't understand the complicated laws, but I also know that the house belongs to all of us equally before it is sold. What foreign refugees, old Guinelus jumped out of his grave when he heard it. Okay. ’” he sighed, “I’d really like to see that old place again before I die.” Moody deftly rolls out her last trump card. "I heard that Mr. Entwhistle suggested that the family members choose some pieces of furniture or porcelain or something that everyone likes...before they are auctioned." Timothy sat up straight quickly. "We've got to go. Everyone's picking must be something of great value. Those girls are married to husbands... from what I've heard, I don't trust any of them. It might be quite poignant. Mrs. Helen Be kind. As the head of the family, I am obliged to be present!" He stood up and paced the room vigorously. "Yes, that's a very good idea. Write to Helen and take her advice. I'm really thinking of you, my dear. For you, it's a good idea to change your surroundings. You've been too tired lately. Now that we're gone, the decorators can go on with the painting, and the woman named Gillies can stay and look at the house." "It's Gilchrist," Moody said. Timothy waved his hand and said, "It's the same name." "I can't help it," said Miss Gilchrist. Moody looked at her in great surprise. Miss Gilchrist trembled all over.She met Moody's pleading eyes. "I know, I'm stupid...but I just can't do it. I can't stay in this room by myself. Is it possible to get someone to come and... sleep here too?" She eyed Moody hopefully, but Moody shook his head.Moody Abernether knew all too well how difficult it was to find such a man around. Miss Gilchrist continued with a hint of despair in her voice: "I know you'll think I'm cowardly and ignorant...I didn't expect myself to be like this. I've never been a nervous person...and I don't think too much. But everything seems to have changed now. I'm scared Broken...yes, really freaked out...don't dare to be here alone." "Of course," Moody said. "I'm too stupid. After what happened at Richter St. Mary." "I think that's why...I know, it's illogical. And I didn't feel that way at first. I didn't care about being in that villa...after it happened. But this feeling of fear built up ...you'd think I shouldn't, Mrs. Abernether, but even since I've been here I've felt... frightened, you know. Not particularly frightened of anything...just frightened...that's ridiculous, I'm really ashamed of myself. It's like I've been expecting something terrible to happen...even the nun knocking on the door freaked me out. Oh my god, I suck..." "I think it's what they call late-onset oscillations," Moody said vaguely. "Really? I don't know. God, I'm so sorry I'm so... so ignorant, you're so good to me. You'd think..." Moody comforted her. "We have to find a way to make another arrangement," she said.