what the police were planning to do. They all left the room together, Jess, Phyl, Chris and Mr. Harrison followed by Mrs. Mac who helped them into their coats in the hallway.
“Girls, it’s terribly cold out!”
“We won’t be very long, Mrs. Mac,” Jess said, adjusting her long scarf.
As they went out the door Phyl called back to Mrs. MacHenry, “Have a look in on Barb, would you Mrs. Mac? She’s probably asleep but just see that she’s all right. Her asthma—”
“Yes, dear. Now, for heaven’s sake, stay bundled up! No sense in coming down with pneumonia. And be careful. Stay together, all of you.”
The door closed in front of her and she stood in the hall for a moment before she turned the lock and went back to the stairs that led to the second floor. Slowly she climbed them, telling herself that there seemed to be more steps every day. At the top she hesitated, then went directly to Barbara’s room.
Inside she switched on the bedside lamp and looked down at the motionless girl. There was a bottle beside the lamp on the table and she poured a drink from it before setting about the task of undressing Barbara.
As she removed the girl’s shoes she muttered, “God! You don’t know how well off you are.” Tossing the shoes on the floor she picked up the glass and took a quick swig and then turned her attention to Barbara’s clothes.
The skirt was easy but she had to struggle to get the blouse off after unbuttoning it. “I’m telling you,” she said to no one in particular. “Hardly in the line of duty, undressing drunken broads. I must be the best goddamn house mother on campus. Come on, you little bitch, roll over. I’ll bet you aren’t this much trouble to those boys who . . . Come on.”
Finally the blouse came off and she stopped for a moment, breathless, before rolling Barbara on her back. “If they were to give out the award for the best house mother, I’ll bet I’d get it, hands down. In a walk. No competition. Where’s that glass?”
She finished what she had poured and looked back at Barbara, then lifted her up and slipped her arm underneath the girl’s shoulder. “What a slob! Twelve years I’ve been looking after girls like you and what has it gotten me? Tired feet and a tired back. And no gratitude at all!”
She unfastened the bra from behind and let it slip awkwardly down Barbara’s shoulders, then one at a time she lifted the girl’s arms and took the straps over them so that all Barbara had on was her stockings and panties. She let the girl slip back down onto the bed, half crumpled into the fetal position. “Shit! What a dead weight. You’d think I’d at least get ‘house mother of the year’ or some-such. All right, Barb, if you insist I’ll have another.”
She reached over and took the top from the bottle, brought it directly to her mouth, foregoing the glass. “Here’s to you, you drunken slob!”
Sitting heavily on the bed she glanced around the room, the bottle still in her hand. “God, how can she drink that stuff! Give me sherry any day.”
She sat for a while lost in a kind of reverie while Barbara snored beside her. At last she said, “Keep snoring, honey. It’s such a lovely sound. That’s the girl. It’ll really turn those boys on. Between your snoring and your dirty mouth you’ll be the most popular lay on campus. Boy, I should have been smart like my sister. She snored. But she married a man with money. Smart girl. Didn’t let him find that out, that she snored, until after she hooked him. Let’s have another drink.”
The bottle was still in her hand but for some reason she reached and got the glass, poured some of the whiskey into it and held it aloft.
“Happy days! Up the rebels, with a rope. Boy what a life I’d have. Florida every winter.” Leaning back she rested the glass on the area between Barbara’s shoulder and the small of her back. “Marry a man with money, and don’t let him know you snore, honey. Hey, that’s a
“Girls, it’s terribly cold out!”
“We won’t be very long, Mrs. Mac,” Jess said, adjusting her long scarf.
As they went out the door Phyl called back to Mrs. MacHenry, “Have a look in on Barb, would you Mrs. Mac? She’s probably asleep but just see that she’s all right. Her asthma—”
“Yes, dear. Now, for heaven’s sake, stay bundled up! No sense in coming down with pneumonia. And be careful. Stay together, all of you.”
The door closed in front of her and she stood in the hall for a moment before she turned the lock and went back to the stairs that led to the second floor. Slowly she climbed them, telling herself that there seemed to be more steps every day. At the top she hesitated, then went directly to Barbara’s room.
Inside she switched on the bedside lamp and looked down at the motionless girl. There was a bottle beside the lamp on the table and she poured a drink from it before setting about the task of undressing Barbara.
As she removed the girl’s shoes she muttered, “God! You don’t know how well off you are.” Tossing the shoes on the floor she picked up the glass and took a quick swig and then turned her attention to Barbara’s clothes.
The skirt was easy but she had to struggle to get the blouse off after unbuttoning it. “I’m telling you,” she said to no one in particular. “Hardly in the line of duty, undressing drunken broads. I must be the best goddamn house mother on campus. Come on, you little bitch, roll over. I’ll bet you aren’t this much trouble to those boys who . . . Come on.”
Finally the blouse came off and she stopped for a moment, breathless, before rolling Barbara on her back. “If they were to give out the award for the best house mother, I’ll bet I’d get it, hands down. In a walk. No competition. Where’s that glass?”
She finished what she had poured and looked back at Barbara, then lifted her up and slipped her arm underneath the girl’s shoulder. “What a slob! Twelve years I’ve been looking after girls like you and what has it gotten me? Tired feet and a tired back. And no gratitude at all!”
She unfastened the bra from behind and let it slip awkwardly down Barbara’s shoulders, then one at a time she lifted the girl’s arms and took the straps over them so that all Barbara had on was her stockings and panties. She let the girl slip back down onto the bed, half crumpled into the fetal position. “Shit! What a dead weight. You’d think I’d at least get ‘house mother of the year’ or some-such. All right, Barb, if you insist I’ll have another.”
She reached over and took the top from the bottle, brought it directly to her mouth, foregoing the glass. “Here’s to you, you drunken slob!”
Sitting heavily on the bed she glanced around the room, the bottle still in her hand. “God, how can she drink that stuff! Give me sherry any day.”
She sat for a while lost in a kind of reverie while Barbara snored beside her. At last she said, “Keep snoring, honey. It’s such a lovely sound. That’s the girl. It’ll really turn those boys on. Between your snoring and your dirty mouth you’ll be the most popular lay on campus. Boy, I should have been smart like my sister. She snored. But she married a man with money. Smart girl. Didn’t let him find that out, that she snored, until after she hooked him. Let’s have another drink.”
The bottle was still in her hand but for some reason she reached and got the glass, poured some of the whiskey into it and held it aloft.
“Happy days! Up the rebels, with a rope. Boy what a life I’d have. Florida every winter.” Leaning back she rested the glass on the area between Barbara’s shoulder and the small of her back. “Marry a man with money, and don’t let him know you snore, honey. Hey, that’s a
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