was a man, tall and skeletal, with bony cheek and hands like claws. The other was a tiny woman. They jostled down the corridor, banging the paintwork with their frames. The race was in deadly earnest; neither spoke or smiled. When the woman reached the toilet first the man howled obscenities at her.
‘Not now, Mr Wilson,’ Mrs Mount said in her nanny’s voice. ‘There’s no need for such a fuss. I’m sure Miss Watkins won’t take long.’
In her triumph Miss Watkins had forgotten to close the lavatory door and they could see her sitting there, her skirt bunched around her thighs, frail legs dangling like a child’s.
‘I hear the police were at your house,’ Mrs Mount said. ‘It is true that Mr Medburn’s dead?’
Angela nodded.
‘Why did the police come to you?’
‘Because I was at the school on the night he died.’ She had been dreading these explanations.
‘Of course,’ Mrs Mount said. Her face was wrinkle-free, complacent. Inside the nursing home it was very hot and her skin glowed, as if she had completed some vigorous exercise. ‘ I’ve been hearing rumours,’ she said, ‘ about you and Mr Medburn. They can’t be true?’
‘Oh Mam,’ Angela said. ‘Of course not.’ She was twelve again, pretending to be good, pretending that it was the other girls who started nastiness, other girls who told lies.
‘Of course not,’ Mrs Mount repeated. ‘I told them: “My Angela’s no gold-digger,” I said. “She might have had financial problems, but we’ve sorted them out now. I’m dealing with her debts and she’s going to help me out in the nursing home in return.”.’ She turned to her daughter. ‘It’ll be like the old times,’ she said. ‘You and I working together again.’
‘Perhaps,’ Angela said evasively. ‘I wish you wouldn’t tell the whole of Heppleburn about my financial problems.’
Mrs Mount seemed not to have heard.
‘Come into my room,’ she said. ‘I’ve been looking through those bills you gave me. I’m sure we can sort it all out. Claire’s in with the residents watching the television. They do enjoy her company.’
Mrs Mount led her into the small flowered and scented room which was part office, part parlour, where she presided over her empire. Against one wall was a piano, whose lid had never been opened in Angela’s lifetime. In a cage on a stand a budgerigar slept.
‘Margaret!’ Mrs Mount shouted and a young woman in a white overall appeared at the door. ‘Bring us some tea dear, will you.’
The woman disappeared and Mrs Mount turned to her daughter.
‘Now dear,’ she said. ‘When do you think you’ll be able to start work here? It would be easier, don’t you think, if you and Claire moved back to live.’
‘No,’ Angela said firmly. ‘ Whatever happens we’ll keep our own home.’
‘Only if the mortgage is paid, dear. You know what the building society said … I was happy to settle the arrears but that was a considerable sum even for me to find. I don’t think I’d be able to do it again.’ Mrs Mount smiled but the threat behind the words was clear. ‘ I’ve been lonely here since you married,’ she went on. ‘I would like the company.’
‘In another couple of weeks,’ Angela said, ‘I may have some money myself.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, dear. Whatever can you mean?’
Before Angela could answer there was a knock on the door and Margaret walked in nervously, carrying a tray.
‘Thank you, Margaret,’ said Mrs Mount, taking the tray from her, but the girl hovered in the doorway.
‘Excuse me, Mrs Mount,’ she said, ‘ but the nurse is doing Mrs Richardson’s dressing and she can’t find the bandages.’
‘They’re in the cupboard where they always are,’ Mrs Mount said, implying that Margaret or the nurse, or both, were fools.
‘I’m sorry,’ Margaret said. ‘They’re not. They’ve all gone.’
‘Can’t you manage for a moment by yourselves!’ Mrs Mount swept out to deal with the problem,
‘Not now, Mr Wilson,’ Mrs Mount said in her nanny’s voice. ‘There’s no need for such a fuss. I’m sure Miss Watkins won’t take long.’
In her triumph Miss Watkins had forgotten to close the lavatory door and they could see her sitting there, her skirt bunched around her thighs, frail legs dangling like a child’s.
‘I hear the police were at your house,’ Mrs Mount said. ‘It is true that Mr Medburn’s dead?’
Angela nodded.
‘Why did the police come to you?’
‘Because I was at the school on the night he died.’ She had been dreading these explanations.
‘Of course,’ Mrs Mount said. Her face was wrinkle-free, complacent. Inside the nursing home it was very hot and her skin glowed, as if she had completed some vigorous exercise. ‘ I’ve been hearing rumours,’ she said, ‘ about you and Mr Medburn. They can’t be true?’
‘Oh Mam,’ Angela said. ‘Of course not.’ She was twelve again, pretending to be good, pretending that it was the other girls who started nastiness, other girls who told lies.
‘Of course not,’ Mrs Mount repeated. ‘I told them: “My Angela’s no gold-digger,” I said. “She might have had financial problems, but we’ve sorted them out now. I’m dealing with her debts and she’s going to help me out in the nursing home in return.”.’ She turned to her daughter. ‘It’ll be like the old times,’ she said. ‘You and I working together again.’
‘Perhaps,’ Angela said evasively. ‘I wish you wouldn’t tell the whole of Heppleburn about my financial problems.’
Mrs Mount seemed not to have heard.
‘Come into my room,’ she said. ‘I’ve been looking through those bills you gave me. I’m sure we can sort it all out. Claire’s in with the residents watching the television. They do enjoy her company.’
Mrs Mount led her into the small flowered and scented room which was part office, part parlour, where she presided over her empire. Against one wall was a piano, whose lid had never been opened in Angela’s lifetime. In a cage on a stand a budgerigar slept.
‘Margaret!’ Mrs Mount shouted and a young woman in a white overall appeared at the door. ‘Bring us some tea dear, will you.’
The woman disappeared and Mrs Mount turned to her daughter.
‘Now dear,’ she said. ‘When do you think you’ll be able to start work here? It would be easier, don’t you think, if you and Claire moved back to live.’
‘No,’ Angela said firmly. ‘ Whatever happens we’ll keep our own home.’
‘Only if the mortgage is paid, dear. You know what the building society said … I was happy to settle the arrears but that was a considerable sum even for me to find. I don’t think I’d be able to do it again.’ Mrs Mount smiled but the threat behind the words was clear. ‘ I’ve been lonely here since you married,’ she went on. ‘I would like the company.’
‘In another couple of weeks,’ Angela said, ‘I may have some money myself.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, dear. Whatever can you mean?’
Before Angela could answer there was a knock on the door and Margaret walked in nervously, carrying a tray.
‘Thank you, Margaret,’ said Mrs Mount, taking the tray from her, but the girl hovered in the doorway.
‘Excuse me, Mrs Mount,’ she said, ‘ but the nurse is doing Mrs Richardson’s dressing and she can’t find the bandages.’
‘They’re in the cupboard where they always are,’ Mrs Mount said, implying that Margaret or the nurse, or both, were fools.
‘I’m sorry,’ Margaret said. ‘They’re not. They’ve all gone.’
‘Can’t you manage for a moment by yourselves!’ Mrs Mount swept out to deal with the problem,
Similar Books
