A Little Death (32 page)

I’m not going to say any more. If you want any more you can sing it yourself.

Chin-chin.

Supper’s only cold bits tonight: bit of cold meat. I wish it was something better, but I burned my arm a few weeks back, it’s come up in a great blister and I’ve been frightened to use the oven ever since. But no matter what’s on the table, Miss Georgina always has the silver out. Although you probably wouldn’t know it
was
silver, the state it’s in nowadays.

I think I’ll have a glass of sherry. Just a little one won’t hurt and besides, I’ve got to have a bit of a celebration. Better put a comb through my hair first. Might even look in the mirror, seeing as it’s a special occasion. Haven’t looked in the glass since I don’t know when. Might surprise myself. Been doing a lot of that recently, I have, surprising myself. I’ll surprise a few other people, when they hear what I’ve been up to, as well. Because do you know what I did? I wrote a letter. Not to just anybody, but to a certain person. Can you guess who that person was? Not the Queen or Mr. Churchill, but someone important to me, very important—but I can’t keep it to myself forever, not for one more minute, in fact. I wrote to William Ferguson. I’d had it in my mind to do for some time—I’m more than just a pretty face, you know—but I was worried that it wasn’t what you should do, write to a man. My dear mother would have said that it was what fast girls did—not that she could write much more than her name—but times
change and girls do all sorts since the war, don’t they? And if I’m not old enough now to know my own mind then I never will be, that’s what I say.

It wasn’t a love letter or anything like that, it was just a note, really.
You may be surprised to hear from me after so many years, but since my last, I find myself in different circumstances from my former. A meeting would be very agreeable to me if you would care to.
William must have replied the same day he received it, because Master Edmund brought his letter down two days after I’d sent mine. He said he was glad to hear from me and he asked me if I still liked a walk in the park—I’ll have to tell him my legs aren’t up to it now, but it doesn’t matter, because he said in the letter that he’s got his own car, imagine!

I shouldn’t get too excited. At my time of life it’s not decent. But now I know I might have
something
if I’m granted another couple of years. Because why would William answer my letter if it wasn’t meant to be? And I’ll tell you something for nothing—if he asks me this time I’ll say yes straightaway. I’m going to tell him about the pickles as well, repeating on me. I nearly wrote it in my letter but then I thought: You can’t put a thing like that in a letter. But I am going to tell him that was why I didn’t say yes straightaway the last time, not because I didn’t want to. That’s the kind of thing you need to know about someone if you’re going to marry them, that pickles don’t agree…

I know, I’ll have one of Miss Georgina’s chocolates to go with the sherry. Just the one. It can’t hurt, diabetes or no diabetes. This box is supposed to be pink, but you’d never know it from the lid. Been sitting in the sun too long. I thought as much when she gave them to me. And they’ve all gone and melted inside the box. She must have been given these as a present and quite a few
years ago, too, by the look of them. Still, I’m not one to bear a grudge and anyway, we’re past all that now. But I will say this: Miss Georgina’s stopped me once from doing what I should, but she’ll not stop me again. I won’t give her the chance. Because William and I are
meant
, as I said. What I’ve done this evening, that’s for others to judge whether it’s right or wrong, not me. But I’ll tell you this: If I went and left Miss Georgina, she’d find some other poor soul to torment, same as she’s done to me, same as she’s done to her own brother if the truth were known. When I say ‘torment’, I don’t mean like the devil with the old toasting fork that they used to tell us about in church—although Miss Georgina could teach the devil a thing or two if she wanted, I’m sure of that.

And it’s not just myself I’m thinking of. There’s Master Edmund and Miss Louisa too, because she’s a widow, now, since Lord Kellway died last year. So you see, you’ve got one that can stop four being happy and that doesn’t seem right to me. But don’t go saying I’ve gone mad. I’ve been thinking it over for a couple of weeks now and I say a fair exchange is no robbery. Because what’s Miss Georgina had of me? My life, that’s what she’s had. Now, that may not seem much to some, but it’s the only life I’ve got or ever shall get if it comes to that.

It’s simple, really. It’s my pills I take for my diabetes. The doctor gave me a new sort. He said to me, ‘Don’t go taking too many of these, Miss Pepper, or you’ll drop off to sleep and we’ll never wake you up again.’ I told him I’d lost them. The whole lot. Said I dropped them down a drain in the street, but I never, I’ve got them safe in my bag. There’s no taste so’s you’d notice and since sugar’s been off the ration I’ve been putting a lot more into Miss Georgina’s cocoa. It was an accident
the first time, putting in two spoons instead of just the one, but then I thought: Well, there’s an idea, so I’ve been piling it in until the cocoa’s like syrup and the cup still comes down empty on the old dumbwaiter. There’s enough sugar left in the bag for one more cup. I’ve crushed the pills, I wrapped them up in paper and brought the rolling pin down on them. Made my hands hurt, doing that, I had to run them under the cold tap until they felt better. Now I’ll just put the cocoa on the dumbwaiter and send it up… Gone!

So you see I’m not mad. I’ve worked it all out as careful as anything. It’ll be very peaceful, just like falling asleep, really, and then—well, perhaps I’ll put on the brooch Miss Louisa gave me. I meant to save it for William, but it won’t make any difference if I wear it now. I’ve got it in one of the biscuit tins. A burglar wouldn’t think to look there. And my white gloves, I knew I’d put them by for something… This is a proper celebration. Shame there’s no one to share it with, really. I shan’t tell William about any of this, mind you. He always was a little bit proud of himself and I don’t want him getting ideas…

It’s funny how your memory works, really, or perhaps it’s just the sherry, but I suddenly remembered something Charlie and me said years ago, something I’d forgotten I’d remembered. Or remembered I’d forgotten, I don’t know which. It was when we were quite small. We were sitting on a wall somewhere—which was unusual in itself, come to think of it, because Bertie was usually off playing with the other boys. But that day we were together and he said to me, ‘What would you like to see most in the world?’ Well, I couldn’t think of anything, so I said the Queen—Queen Victoria that was—I said I’d like to have a sight of her. ’Course I never did. But perhaps I’ll see this queen. I should like
to see her, because she’s lovely, Queen Elizabeth, ever so beautiful. Perhaps I’ll go with William. We’ll go together to see the queen. ‘Your Majesty, may I introduce Mr. and Mrs. William Ferguson. Ordinary folk, but you won’t find loyaler subjects in all of England.’

What’s that? Great loud bang, nearly knocked me over. Honestly, they’ll have the plaster down off the ceiling if they’re not careful. What do they think they’re doing with loud bangs at this time of night? I’ll have to go and see to it, whatever it is. Can’t have been a bus, not unless it’s run off the road and into the house. Oh, that would be dreadful, I hope it isn’t that. Well, the sooner I get upstairs, the sooner I’ll find out. Come on, Legs, take me—up—the—stairs—just—once—more— so—we—can—see—what’s—at—the—top. Little rest now. Get breath back. Feel dizzy—that must be the sherry doing that.
Lips that touch liquor shall never touch mine.
Dear, oh dear. Well, I hope Miss Georgina finds some peace. She’s never had none in this life, that I do know. Not from herself or anyone else. Off we go again, Legs, nearly there now. Just catch my breath and then—nasty stiff old door handle, come on, open up… Here we go—now we’ll see what all this racket’s in aid of. What? What are you doing? I don’t understand—what are you doing? Oh, no, no—I… William, oh, William, Wuh

Georgie was pouring a cup of cocoa between the floorboards when I came in. That bright smile. ‘I didn’t mean you to see, darling. It was sweet of you to think of it, but I’ve never liked cocoa. I don’t know what Ada does to it, it looks more like that brown paint every day. Do you know the paint I mean? The plain one they use for walls?’

It’s all a game to her. Nothing’s more important than a bloody crossword puzzle. Nothing means anything except whatever word she’s chasing. ‘Distemper.’

‘That’s the one.’

She wasn’t surprised when she saw me carrying the gun. ‘You heard it, didn’t you, Edmund? What I said to Louisa?’

I heard every word of it. I was standing right outside the sitting-room door. Eavesdropping, I suppose. I was going to go in—to see Louisa, because I was upstairs when she arrived—but then I heard them talking about Roland, about when he died. Louisa said, ‘But it was so much worse for you when poor Freddie was killed.’

‘I was a child. I barely remember Freddie.’

‘I mean, at least there was a good reason for Roland’s death. He wouldn’t have wanted anything different.’

‘No, I don’t suppose he would.’

Then I heard Louisa say, ‘I’m sorry, Georgina, that
was thoughtless of me. Does it still hurt to think of Roland?’ Georgie didn’t answer and she said, ‘I know, Georgina. I’ve known ever since I found that handkerchief you sent him. I recognised the writing. I thought you were so brave. You must have been desperately unhappy and yet you never said a word. Oh, you don’t need to worry, I’ve never told a soul. When I found out, I wanted to talk to you about it so much. Edmund said it was him, but I understood why you didn’t want to see me…’

Georgina started laughing. ‘You thought I was in love with
Roland?’

‘I realised when I found the handkerchief. It was with his things. I kept trying to write you a letter, but I couldn’t think how to say any of it, and I was worried that James might read it and that there would be a terrible—’

‘What handkerchief?’

‘Surely you remember? It said ‘To My True Knight’. In red ink. You’d written it.’

Until that moment I had no idea what Louisa was going to say, but as soon as she started talking about it I knew it was the favour and I knew that Georgie would realise, too, and when she did, she would tell—because it was me, not Georgie but me,
I
had given Roland Georgie’s present—‘To My True Knight’—Georgie would guess everything, she’s clever and she knows everything, and she would hate me and want to punish me, and she would tell Louisa and… I stood there, outside the door, and I realised all those things, quick as a flash, one after the other. It was like being punched. I knew I must get away from the door before Louisa came out, but I couldn’t seem to move. I could hear Georgina talking, but I couldn’t take in the words. I heard her say something about Roland, then she—then
I heard her say, ‘Don’t you understand, Louisa? Edmund and I have been lovers since the war.’

There were footsteps coming towards the door, they were too quick, I couldn’t get away, couldn’t get to the stairs in time. Louisa saw me standing there in the dark passage like some sort of criminal. I went toward her, I didn’t really know what I was doing, but I got myself in front of her, I suppose with some idea of trying to explain myself. I wanted to speak to her, but my mouth couldn’t seem to let the sounds come out. Then I tried to move my hand towards her to touch her, but I had somehow got myself jammed—I was stuck like a cheap sort of mechanical toy. Louisa was moving towards me very fast with her head down and I could see she wasn’t going to stop, so I tried to move again, this time so that she could come past, but I couldn’t. It was as if all my muscles had locked together; I didn’t have any strength to make my legs work, and I was standing between Louisa and the front door. I tried to say her name, but all that came out was a rasping noise. She wouldn’t look up, she was pawing at me to get past, sort of swiping me with her hands, and then she suddenly gave me a shove and I fell sideways on to the hall table. By the time I’d righted myself she’d gone.

I stood there holding on to the edge of the table for some time, I’ve no idea how long. I know at one point I tried to move, but my legs didn’t seem to be working very well and I only succeeded in knocking a lot of newspapers on to the floor, so I thought I’d better hold fire for a while.

It mended eventually, whatever it was, and let me get upstairs. I got hold of the gun. I hid it under the chest of drawers the day we came here. Georgie didn’t know. What they call a side-arm. Put six rounds in. To blow my head off, I suppose. Sat on the bed for a while,
holding it…
I shall be whiter than the whitewash on the wall.
No bloody whitewash left on the wall now. Not one bloody brushful. Couldn’t bear the thought— without Louisa. Can’t let Georgie take Louisa. Can put up with many things, but not that. Can’t put up with it. Hope. That’s what it is. Chap’s got to have hope. No hope without Louisa. Might as well go straight on the scrap heap.

Decided to go downstairs with the gun. Not angry, quite calm in fact. Arms and legs working again, in good order. Sounds coming out of the mouth. Practised a bit of talking in the mirror: ‘Hello, this is Edmund Lomax speaking to you in English.’

I thought I would kill her, you see, but her pouring cocoa between the floorboards and talking about distemper threw me off a bit. She made me a drink. Gin. Strong one. Said I needed it. I didn’t need it—drank it to please her, that was all. Always done everything to please her. What she wanted. Not her knight, though. Not anybody’s knight. Wanted to be Louisa’s, but wasn’t good enough. Never good enough.

Georgie wanted me to kill her, you see. To shoot her. I didn’t realise at first. She said, ‘I knew you would have a gun somewhere. Have you got bullets or shells or whatever they’re called?’

I said, ‘There’s not much use in a gun if you haven’t got bullets, is there?’

She said, ‘Well, is it loaded?’ She wasn’t at all frightened, more excited, as if it was an adventure. ‘You’re the man of the family, Edmund. You have responsibilities.’ I asked her what on earth she was talking about and she told me to sit down. We had the drinks then, while she talked. I don’t know if it was the gin, or what it was, but everything just started slipping away from
me, I couldn’t get a proper grasp of things… When I entered the room I thought I wanted to kill her, but then she made me so confused, I couldn’t think. I didn’t want to, I wanted to put the gun down, just to… oh, I don’t know. I don’t know what I wanted. But then Georgie said, ‘I didn’t want to have to tell you this, Edmund, but I killed Freddie.’