Chapter 17 Chapter 17 The Testimony of Rhoda Davis

Rhoda Davis walked out of Debenham's shop and stood on the sidewalk thoughtfully, with a hesitant expression on her face.The face was expressive, and every fleeting emotion quickly turned into expressions. At this time, Luda's face said clearly: "Should I?" "I think—" "Maybe it's better not to." The doorman asked her hopefully: "Miss, taxi?" Luda shook her head. A fat woman with a big bag and a "shopping early for Christmas" expression on her face slammed into Ruda, who still stood there undecided. A jumble of thoughts raced through his mind. "Why don't I go? She invited me--but she probably says that to everybody. She doesn't have to mean it--Anne doesn't want me anyway. She made it very clear that she'd rather be alone Going to a lawyer with Major Desper--why wouldn't she? I mean, three is too much--and that's none of my business. I don't really want to see Major Despar-- Though he's very kind--I think he must be in love with Anne. Otherwise men wouldn't bother--I mean, more than pure kindness."

A messenger bumped into Ruda and said reproachfully, "Excuse me, madam." Rhoda thought to herself, "Oh my god I can't stand here all day just because I'm an idiot and can't make up my mind - I think that coat and dress must be beautiful. Wonder if brown would be more practical? No, I don't think so. Come on, should I go or shouldn't I? Three-thirty--a good time--I mean, I don't think I'm bothering with the meal. I'll go and see." She crossed the road, turned right and then left, walked down Harley Street, and stopped only when she came to a row of flats that Mrs Oliver described as "in the company of a nursing home".

Luda thought to herself: "Forget it, she won't eat me", so she walked into the building boldly. Mrs. Oliver's house was on the top floor.A liveried waiter took Ruda up in the elevator, and she stepped off to stand outside a green door, on a beautiful new cushion. Rhoda thought to herself, "That's horrible. Worse than going to the dentist. But I've got to see it through." Blushing with embarrassment, she rang the doorbell. An old maid came to answer the door. "Yes—can I—is Mrs. Oliver at home?" asked Rhoda. The maid backed away, and Rhoda entered the house; followed by a very untidy living room.The maid said, "May I ask what my name should be?"

"Oh—er—let's say Miss Davis—Miss Rhoda Davis." The maid went in.Ruda felt as if a hundred years had passed, but in fact it was only one minute and forty-five seconds before the maid returned to the living room. "Miss, please go this way." Ruda blushed even more than before, and followed the maid obediently; turning a corner along the corridor, a door was open; she stepped nervously into a room, full of surprise at first, thinking that she had come to the African forest!Birds - flocks of small birds, parrots, macaws, birds that even ornithologists don't know... lingering in and out of the primeval jungle.Among the birds and flora, Rhoda saw an old dining table with a typewriter on it, a large pile of typewritten manuscripts scattered on the floor, and Mrs. Oliver, with tousled hair, was getting up from a rickety chair. .

"Nice meeting, my boy," said Mrs. Oliver, stretching out one ink-stained hand, and smoothing her hair with the other in a movement that was almost unthinkable. Her elbow touched a paper bag on the table, and the bag fell, rolling apples all over the floor. "It's okay, kid, don't bother, someone will come to check later." Luda was out of breath, grabbed five apples and straightened up. "Oh, thank you—no, I shouldn't have put it back in the paper bag. I think the paper bag has a hole, so let's put it on the mantelpiece. That'll do. Sit down and we'll talk."

Luda took another old chair and sat down, staring at the mistress. Out of breath, she asked, "I'm so sorry. Did I interrupt your work or something?" Mrs. Oliver said: "Oh, you can say yes and you can say no. I'm working, you see. But my Finnish detective has confused himself. He deduces from a plate of French beans and detects rats." The tail grass and the onions stuffed in the goose meat of Mac's Day are deadly poisons, but I just remembered that the French bean season is over by Mac's Day." Luda caught a glimpse of the inner world of the detective novel, was inexplicably excited, and said almost out of breath, "It can be made into cans."

Mrs. Oliver said dubiously, "Of course. But it would spoil the orgasm. I always get confused about gardening and things like that. Readers write to me saying I got all the flowers wrong. What's the matter?" It doesn't matter—anyway, there's a florist in London where all kinds of flowers bloom together." Ruda said faithfully: "Of course it doesn't matter. Oh, Mrs. Oliver, writing must be wonderful." Mrs. Oliver rubbed her brow with ink-stained fingers and asked, "Why?" Rhoda said, a little taken aback, "Oh, that must be so. It must be nice to sit down and write a book."

Mrs. Oliver said, "Not really. You know, you have to think. And thinking is often tiresome. And you have to plan everything; Not particularly enjoyable. As hard as any business." "It's not like work," Rhoda said. Mrs. Oliver said, "It doesn't look like it to you, because you don't have to do it! I think it's work. Sometimes I have to keep repeating to myself the amount of the next royalties to keep doing it. You know, Banknotes are inspiring. When you see a savings overdraft, the pass book does the same." Rhoda said, "I didn't expect you to type it yourself. I thought you had a secretary."

"I did have a secretary, and I often tried to dictate to her, but she was so capable that it often frustrated me. I thought she understood English, grammar, commas and semicolons better than I did, and I had an inferiority complex. Later I Hiring an incompetent secretary is, of course, not very useful." Ruda said, "It must be wonderful to be able to conceive a plot." Mrs. Oliver said happily: "I can conceive the plot at any time, but I am tired of writing it down. I often think that I have finished writing, but after doing the math, I only wrote 30,000 words, not 60,000. So I had to make up A murder case, let the heroine be kidnapped again. Really annoying."

Ruda didn't answer.She stared at Mrs. Oliver with all the reverence a young man feels for a celebrity -- and a little bit of disappointment. Mrs. Oliver waved her hand and said, "Do you like this wallpaper? I really like birds. These foliage are probably tropical. Even if it's freezing cold, I think it's a hot day. Unless you feel very warm." It's so warm I can't do anything. But my Sven Hesson has to break the ice in the bathroom every morning!" Rhoda said, "I think it's great. Thank you for saying I'm not bothering you." Mrs. Oliver said, "Let's have some coffee and some toast. The coffee is strong, and the toast is warm. I can have any time."

She went to the door, opened it, called, and came back and said, "Why are you in town—are you shopping?" "Yes, I did some shopping." "Miss Meredith is in town too?" "Yes, she and Major Despar went to a lawyer." "Lawyer, eh?" Mrs. Oliver raised her eyebrows inquiringly. "Yes, you know Major Despar said she should get a lawyer. He was very kind—really." Mrs. Oliver said, "I'm kind too, but it doesn't seem very popular, does it? In fact, I think your friend is very angry that I went to see her." "Oh, no—she really didn't." Rhoda fidgeted in her chair in embarrassment. "Actually, that's why I'm here today—to explain. I think you've completely misunderstood. She looks cold on the outside, but she's not. I mean, not because you called, but because you said In a word." "I said something?" "Yes, of course, you can't tell. It's just a coincidence." "What did I say?" "I don't think you remember. It's the way you talk—you mentioned accidents and poisons and things like that." "Did I say that?" "I know you may not remember. You know, Anne had a horrible experience. She lived in a house where a woman swallowed poison by mistake--it seemed to be dyed hat paint; poisoned and died." It was a terrible shock to Anne, of course. She couldn't bear to think about it or talk about it. The words made her think of the past, and she suddenly became silent and stiff and weird. I see you noticed, I You can't say anything in front of her. But I want to tell you that things are different from what you imagined, and it's not that she doesn't appreciate you." Mrs. Oliver looked at Rhoda's earnest red face and said slowly, "I see." Rhoda said, "Anne is terribly sensitive. She's not good at -- facing reality. If something upsets her, she'd rather not talk about it -- it's not going to do any good -- at least I don't think so. Whether you talk about it or not, the thing is there. It's escaping, pretending it's not there. I'd rather talk about it, no matter how painful it is." Mrs. Oliver said quietly, "Oh, but boy, you're a fighter. Not your friend Anne." Ruda blushed. "Annie's a lovely girl." Mrs. Oliver smiled. She said, "I didn't say she wasn't cute. I just said she didn't have your special courage." She sighed, and then said to the girl unexpectedly, "Son, do you believe in the value of truth, or don't you?" Luda stared and said, "Of course I believe in the truth." "Yes, you say that, but you probably haven't thought about it. Sometimes the truth hurts -- destroys dreams." "I still want to know the truth," said Rhoda. "Me too. But I'm not sure it's smart." Luda said seriously, "Don't tell Annie what I told you, okay? She won't be happy." "I would never do that. Did it happen a long time ago?" "About four or five years ago. It's weird how it happens to people over and over again. I had an aunt who was always in a shipwreck. Anne was involved in two violent deaths -- worse this time, of course. , the murder is pretty gruesome, isn't it?" "yes." By this time black coffee and warm buttered slices of bread arrived.Ruda had the appetite of a child.She felt so excited to be able to drink and eat with celebrities so intimately. After eating and drinking, she stood up and said, "I hope I don't interrupt your work too much. Would you mind if I sent a copy of your work--I mean, would you find it troublesome? Would you Will you sign it for me?" Mrs. Oliver laughed. "Oh, I can do you a bigger service." She opened the locker on the other side of the room. "Which one do you like? I quite like The Case of the Second Goldfish myself. Not as scary as the others." Luda was a little shocked to hear a writer describe her work in this way, and quickly accepted the gift.Mrs. Oliver took the book, opened it, signed it in cursive letters, and gave it to Rhoda. "Here." "Thank you. I had a great time. You really don't mind if I come?" "I want you to come," said Mrs. Oliver. She hesitated for a moment and then said, "You are a good boy, goodbye. Take care of yourself." After the guests left, she closed the door and said to herself, "Why did I say that?" She shook her head, tousled her hair, and went back to the main character, Sven Hesson, and the sage-and-onion stuffing.