me, Since I’m much too young to know…”
The sound of a buzzer gritted into the room from the direction of the hallway outside, and she broke off. She frowned, and in the mirror her reflected self frowned back. Making no further move, she remained perfectly still where she was, listening. There followed a prolonged interval of silence and then, like the soundof some angry and determined insect, the buzzer sounded again. At that, she whirled about. Yanking the ribbon from her hair, scowling, she hurled it across the room where it struck the curved side of the piano and dropped to the floor.
Crossing to the door, she hurled it open and glared out into the dim enclosure of the hallway. To her right, in the direction of the kitchen, the buzzer sounded again. After a brief pause, she turned back into the room, crossed swiftly to the piano, lifted the protective lid on the keyboard. Quite deliberately and with all the petulant force she could muster she slammed it closed again. The resultant sound, a discordant crash, radiated noisomely out into the hallway and beyond into the other parts of the house.
Jane turned her gaze upward, listening as the discord fell away into silence. The buzzer did not sound again. Looking back into the mirror, tilting her head into an attitude of arch coquetry, she affected a smile of vapid prettiness. Then, with a brief bobbing curtsy, she let the smile drop quickly away. Turning, she left the room, entered the hallway and moved in the direction of the kitchen. As she did so, her eyes again lifted toward the ceiling in the direction of Blanche’s room, catching the light, it seemed, with a kind of hard brightness.
A few minutes later, when she re-entered the hallway, she was carrying a large lacquered lunch tray covered with a spotless white napkin. Moving briskly past the door to the rehearsal room, she entered the living room, a large, long room with a high vaulted ceiling and faced along the west wall with a stairway leading up to a shallow hanging gallery. Opposite the stairway was a tall, ornate fireplace of pink Italian marble. The front wall of the room was punctuated closely with tall French windows arched at the top, and at one end by the front door, a heavy, intricately paneled slab of dark mahogany. Through the windows could be seen a narrow concrete terrace with a marble balustrade from the center of which a set of steep steps descended to the innermost curve of a circular drive.
The room was furnished with a conglomerate mixture of colors and styles. Before the fireplace stood an enormous, gaping divan of faded green velvet, the front surfaces of the arms decorated with rectangles of elaborately carved wood. Adjacent to this was a matching chair, and between the two crouched a coffee table of gleaming blond wood. Against the inner wall of the stairway stood a heavy, carved library table, and next to that a matching chair with a leather seat. Breaking the tall opening of one of the French windows was a television set, of white plastic smaller than the one in Blanche’s room. The drapes, bunched thickly between the windows, were of a gaudy rose-splashed fabric which was painfully at war with the rug, a large, intricately patterned oblong of rich Oriental reds and blues. From within the boundaries of a gleaming silver frame on the mantel, the blonde girl with the lovely sooty eyes smiled down upon the scene with an expression of fixed emptiness.
Making her way across the room, Jane started up the stairs, propelling her stocky body upward with separate, angry, forward thrusts. Now the great, glamorous movie star wanted her lunch—the great star of the silver screen who thought that just because her silly old pictures were showing on television she could start shoving people around again.…
At the sound of Jane’s footsteps on the stairs, Blanche turned her chair quickly toward the open doorway. She would have to be very careful. She would have to consider everything she said
The sound of a buzzer gritted into the room from the direction of the hallway outside, and she broke off. She frowned, and in the mirror her reflected self frowned back. Making no further move, she remained perfectly still where she was, listening. There followed a prolonged interval of silence and then, like the soundof some angry and determined insect, the buzzer sounded again. At that, she whirled about. Yanking the ribbon from her hair, scowling, she hurled it across the room where it struck the curved side of the piano and dropped to the floor.
Crossing to the door, she hurled it open and glared out into the dim enclosure of the hallway. To her right, in the direction of the kitchen, the buzzer sounded again. After a brief pause, she turned back into the room, crossed swiftly to the piano, lifted the protective lid on the keyboard. Quite deliberately and with all the petulant force she could muster she slammed it closed again. The resultant sound, a discordant crash, radiated noisomely out into the hallway and beyond into the other parts of the house.
Jane turned her gaze upward, listening as the discord fell away into silence. The buzzer did not sound again. Looking back into the mirror, tilting her head into an attitude of arch coquetry, she affected a smile of vapid prettiness. Then, with a brief bobbing curtsy, she let the smile drop quickly away. Turning, she left the room, entered the hallway and moved in the direction of the kitchen. As she did so, her eyes again lifted toward the ceiling in the direction of Blanche’s room, catching the light, it seemed, with a kind of hard brightness.
A few minutes later, when she re-entered the hallway, she was carrying a large lacquered lunch tray covered with a spotless white napkin. Moving briskly past the door to the rehearsal room, she entered the living room, a large, long room with a high vaulted ceiling and faced along the west wall with a stairway leading up to a shallow hanging gallery. Opposite the stairway was a tall, ornate fireplace of pink Italian marble. The front wall of the room was punctuated closely with tall French windows arched at the top, and at one end by the front door, a heavy, intricately paneled slab of dark mahogany. Through the windows could be seen a narrow concrete terrace with a marble balustrade from the center of which a set of steep steps descended to the innermost curve of a circular drive.
The room was furnished with a conglomerate mixture of colors and styles. Before the fireplace stood an enormous, gaping divan of faded green velvet, the front surfaces of the arms decorated with rectangles of elaborately carved wood. Adjacent to this was a matching chair, and between the two crouched a coffee table of gleaming blond wood. Against the inner wall of the stairway stood a heavy, carved library table, and next to that a matching chair with a leather seat. Breaking the tall opening of one of the French windows was a television set, of white plastic smaller than the one in Blanche’s room. The drapes, bunched thickly between the windows, were of a gaudy rose-splashed fabric which was painfully at war with the rug, a large, intricately patterned oblong of rich Oriental reds and blues. From within the boundaries of a gleaming silver frame on the mantel, the blonde girl with the lovely sooty eyes smiled down upon the scene with an expression of fixed emptiness.
Making her way across the room, Jane started up the stairs, propelling her stocky body upward with separate, angry, forward thrusts. Now the great, glamorous movie star wanted her lunch—the great star of the silver screen who thought that just because her silly old pictures were showing on television she could start shoving people around again.…
At the sound of Jane’s footsteps on the stairs, Blanche turned her chair quickly toward the open doorway. She would have to be very careful. She would have to consider everything she said
Similar Books
