Celia's House by D. E. Stevenson

other people; that’s the truth of it. Maybe I shan’t be long after her.”
    â€œYou’re quite young, Becky,” Humphrey said.
    â€œI’m fifty-one,” said Becky. “It’s not old, but I feel like a hundred.”
    â€œI know you’re bound to feel like that, but perhaps—”
    â€œI’ve nothing to do ,” she broke in desperately. “I’ve looked after her all these years, and now there’s nothing to do for her anymore.”
    Humphrey was silent for a few moments and then he said, “I should be very grateful if you’ll stay on here and look after things.”
    â€œI’ll see,” said Becky. “I didn’t think you’d be wanting me. I don’t quite know. Dunnian isn’t the same without her, but maybe another place would be worse. I’ll stay on a wee while and see how I feel—that is, if you’re sure Mrs. Humphrey will want me.”
    â€œOf course we shall want you.”
    She smiled. “Oh, well, I’ll stay till you get settled in. Maybe it will be difficult for Mrs. Humphrey at first, moving and getting settled in a strange place.”
    Humphrey was obliged to hide a smile. He thought of all the strange places to which Alice had moved, bag and baggage, with nobody at all to help her, and of all the arrivals (sometimes late at night) with the babies tired and cross after the journey. Alice had had to contend with unsympathetic landladies; she had been obliged to improvise and make things do. Nobody would think, to look at Alice, that she was a capable woman, but somehow or other she had “managed” and even in the most unlikely places she had created an atmosphere of home. Alice could move to Dunnian and settle in as easily as a bird settling onto its nest, but all the same it would be quite a good thing if Becky would stay and help her.
    â€œI’ve plenty to live on,” Becky was saying. “There’s no need for you to worry about me. Miss Dunne took out an annuity for me and I get it paid every month. It was her own idea: she wanted me to be independent, so she said. I could take a wee house in Ryddelton and be quite comfortable too.”
    â€œYou must do exactly as you like,” Humphrey told her. He wondered if he ought to thank her for all she had done, for looking after Aunt Celia so well, but somehow he felt it would be an impertinence. Aunt Celia had meant so much more to Becky than to himself. Becky was the only person on earth who was really deeply grieved at Aunt Celia’s death; it was a personal loss to Becky as it could not be to him. He sighed and added, “I wish I had known her better.”
    Becky nodded. “I wish you had. She was well worth knowing, but it couldn’t be helped. Sailors have to go where they’re sent. She often spoke of you, Mr. Humphrey, and she always had the little photograph of the children on the table beside her bed. She used to look at the picture and say, ‘The boy is a Dunne. I like the look of him, Becky.’ It’s a pity she couldn’t have seen the children, isn’t it?”
    â€œShe didn’t like children, Becky.”
    â€œShe’d have liked to see them,” Becky declared. “Especially Master Mark.”

Chapter Eight
Aftermath
    Alice was lying on her bed with a hot water bottle at her feet and a handkerchief, soaked in eau de cologne, on her forehead. The blinds were drawn down and the window was open at the bottom. It was very peaceful; she could hear the whisper of the river in the distance, and the blind was making a slight tapping noise against the window, but apart from these gentle noises there was no sound at all. She felt relaxed and the pain in her head began to subside. It’s nice to be taken care of like this , thought Alice. Becky was really kind. Somehow or other Alice was aware that Becky had enjoyed taking care of her.
    The door opened very quietly and Alice