Chapter 29 Chapter Twenty Nine

Those two words kept ringing in Henrietta's head as she sailed towards London. "What should I do? Where should I go?" For the past few weeks, she has been tense, excited, and there is never a moment of relaxation.She had a mission to complete—a mission that John had given her.But now it's over - has she lost - or won?One can look at this problem from both perspectives.But no matter how one looks at it, the mission is over.And she also experienced the extremely exhausting negative reactions it had. Her mind went back to what she had said to Edward that night on the terrace—the night John died—that she had walked alone to the swimming pool, into the awning, and deliberately, by the light of a match, The night of Yggdrasil was painted on the tea table of Zhang Tie.Purposeful, planned—yet unable to sit and mourn—mourning her dead lover. "I will," she had said to Edward, "to grieve for John."

But she hadn't dared to relax yet—didn't let grief take hold of her. But now she can grieve.Now she can spend all her time grieving. She called out from the bottom of her heart: "John...John." Bitterness and deep-rooted rebellion hit her in waves. She thought, "I wish I had drunk that cup of tea." Driving can comfort her and give her strength in that moment.But soon she will be in London.Soon she'll put the car in the garage and go back to the empty sculpture room alone.Empty because John would never sit there berating her again, throwing tantrums at her, loving her more than he wanted to, telling her eagerly about Ridgeway's disease -- about his triumphs and his despair , about Mrs Crabtree and St Christopher's Hospital.

Suddenly, with the dark shadow rising in her mind, she thought: "Of course. That's where I'm going. To St. Christopher's." Elderly Mrs. Gretley lay on her narrow hospital bed, squinting at the visitor with tearful, blinking eyes. She was just as John had described, and Henrietta felt a sudden surge of warmth, a sudden lift of spirits.It's real - and it's here to stay!Here, in a small space, she found John again. "That poor doctor. Terrible, isn't it?" said Mrs. Crabtree.There was passion in her voice as well as regret, for Mrs. Crabtree loved life; and sudden death, especially murder or premature death, was the most meaningful part of a kaleidoscopic life. "He was murdered just like that. I was disgusted when I heard the news, it's true. I read everything in the papers. The nurse made me read everything she could get her hands on. She really Well. There are pictures and everything that happened. That swimming pool and all. His wife was not guilty at trial, poor guy, and Mrs. Angkatell was the owner of the pool. Lots of pictures, the whole thing really Quite mysterious, isn't it?"

Henrietta did not protest her enjoyment of the horror.She liked it because she knew John would like it himself.If he had to die, he'd prefer Mrs. Crabtree to have fun with, than sniffles and tears. "All I wish is to catch the man who has done this evil, and hang him," continued Mrs. Crabtree, vindictively. "They don't hang in public as often as they used to—more for pity. I've always thought I liked going to see hangings. And I'd run double as fast to see the man who killed the doctor get hanged, if you Take my word for it! Absolutely wicked, he must be. Oh, that doctor is one in a million. He's always been so smart! And he's always been so nice! You've got to laugh all the time, whether you want to or not. That's What he used to say all the time! I would do anything for the doctor, I would!"

"Yes," Henrietta said, "he's a very smart man. He's a marvelous man." "Think about his world in the hospital, it really is! All those nurses, and his patients! You always feel like you're going to get better when he's around you." "So you'll be fine," Henrietta said. Those shrewd little eyes were covered with a cloud for a moment. "I'm not quite sure about that, honey. My doctor now is the young guy with the glasses who talks around the bush. It's nothing like Dr. Crystal. Never smiles! And Dr. Crystal is—always Jokes! Gave me some good time, he did, with his own cure. 'I can't take it, doctor,' I said to him, 'No, you can, Mrs. Crabtree ,' that's what he said to me 'You're strong. You can handle this. We're going to rewrite the history of medicine.' He's always making you happy like that. Do anything for a doctor, I will! Expect a lot from you, he Always, and you feel like you can't let him down, if you know what I mean."

"I understand," said Henrietta. Those sharp little eyes stared at her. "I'm sorry, dear, but perhaps you are not the doctor's wife?" "Yes," said Henrietta, "I'm only a friend of his." "I see," said Mrs. Crabtree. Henrietta thought she did understand. "If you don't mind, I would like to ask what brought you here?" "The doctor used to tell me a lot about you—and about your new treatment. I wanted to see what you were like." "I'm holding back - that's what I'm doing now." cried Henrietta:

"But you can't back down! You gotta get better." Mrs. Grebert grinned. "I don't want to die, don't you think so!" "Oh, fight then! Dr. Cresto says you're a fighter." "Will he say that now?" Mrs. Crabtree lay still for a moment, and then she said slowly: "The man who shot him was a vicious and disgraceful man! There are not many such men in the world." We'll never see someone like him again.The words came to Henrietta's mind.Mrs Crabtree was watching her keenly. "Cheer up, dear," she said.She added: "I hope he has a nice funeral."

"He was having a lovely funeral," said Henrietta earnestly. "Ah! I wish I could have gone then!" Mrs Crabtree sighed. "Going to my own funeral is next, I guess." "No," cried Henrietta, "you can't die. You just said that Dr. Crystal told you that you and he were going to rewrite the history of medicine. Oh, you're going to have to carry out this plan alone. The treatment plan is the same Yes. You have to take courage for both of you—you have to rewrite the history of medicine alone—for him.” Mrs. Crabtree stared at her for a moment.

"Sounds great! I'm going to do my best baby. That's all I can say." Henrietta stood up and took her hand. "Goodbye. I'll see you again if I can." "Well, sure. Talking about the doctor will make me better." The dirty look came back to her eyes. "He's an excellent man in every way, Dr. Crystal." "Yes," said Henrietta. "He is like this." The old woman said: "Don't fret, baby—it's over. You can't get it back." Lady Crabtree and Hercule Poirot, Henrietta thought, expressed the same thought in different languages.

She drove back to Chelsea, parked the car in the garage, and walked slowly toward the sculpture room. "Now," she thought, "at last the moment I've been dreading—the moment when I'm alone." "Now I can delay no longer. Grief is here with me." What had she said to Edward? "I would like to grieve for John." She sank into a chair and pushed her hair back from her face. Alone—empty—abandoned.This terrible emptiness. Tears welled up in her eyes and slowly ran down her cheeks. Sad, she thought, sad for John, oh John—John. Thinking back, thinking back—his voice, full of sharp pain:

"If I were to die, the first thing you'd do would be tearfully begin to make some sad woman who deserved to die, or some sad portrait." She moved uneasily.Why had this thought flashed into her mind? Grief - Grief... A statue of restraint - its silhouette is barely felt - its head is hooded. Fine-grained marble statue. She could see its lines—tall, slender.Its sadness is hidden, only seen in the long, sad lines of the drapery. Sadness emerges through the clear and transparent fine-grained marble. "If I die……" Suddenly, a bitter feeling surged over her body and mind! She thought, "This is me! John is right. I can't love—I can't grieve—with all of me." "It's Mickey, it's people like Mickey that are indispensable in the world." Mitch and Edward stayed at Answick. This is reality - courage - warmth. "But I," she thought, "I'm not a whole person. I don't belong to myself, I belong to something outside of me. I can't grieve for my loved one who died, but oh put away my grief and let it melted into a fine-grained marble statue..." Exhibit No. 58, "Sorrow".Fine-grained marble statue.By Miss Henrietta Savnak... She said quietly: "John, forgive me, forgive me, forgive me for what I couldn't help doing."