Authors: Frederic Lindsay
Why
try to get rid of me then?
Sophie
wondered.
Why tell
Chambers
about
Maitland
and
me,
you
evil
old
bitch?
'You're
not
at
an
age
when
you'll
ever
lack
company,'
the
secretary
was
going
on.
'For
me
I
suppose
you
could
say
the
Trust
fills
a
gap.
I
still
miss
my
husband,
though it's
a
long
time
since
he
died.’
If
he died
,
Sophie
reflected
maliciously.
If he didn't run away; if, that is, he ever existed at all. She wouldn't be the first old maid to invent a husband
.
'I
haven't
heard
you
talk
about
him
before.’
'He
was
the
kindest
of
men.
Of
course,
my
friends
didn't
want
me
to
marry
him.
They
meant
well.
As
if
I
didn't
know
everything
they
could
whisper
to
me
against
it.
He
was
already
in
a
wheelchair
–
the
illness
had
got
to
that
stage.
At
the
most,
they
told
me
I
could
only
hope
for
two
years
with
him.
But
we
proved
them
wrong.
He
lived
for
almost
five
years
after
we
were
married.
It
was
a
kind
of
miracle,
they
said.
Someone
called
it
once
the
power
of
love
and
that
meant
so
much
to
me.
People
say
things
to
us
we
never
forget
for
good
or
ill.
The
power
of
love
…
I
had
been
a
nurse,
of
course.’
'I
can't
picture
that.’
'Oh,
yes.
That's
where
we
met
–
in
hospital.
After
he
– afterwards
I
couldn't
bear
to
go
back
though.
I
don't
know
why.
I'd
had
enough
of
it,
I
suppose.’
She
smiled.
'I've
sometimes
thought,
you
know,
perhaps
I
was
afraid
if
I
went
back
into
hospital
work
I
would
meet
someone
else
–
someone
ill,
of
course
–
and
fall
in
love
again.
Nurses
are
fools
in
that
way.’
In
alarm,
she
shook
her
head.
'But
don't
misunderstand!
I
wouldn't
have
married
anyone
else.
Not
really
ever,
I
don't
think.
Jerry
spoiled
me
for
anyone
else.
Such
a
kind
man.’
And
then
casually,
softly,
as
if
to
herself,
but
fixing
Sophie
with
a
look
that
would
not
be
denied,
she
went
on,
'He
was
paralysed
even
when
I
met
him,
before
I
married
him
–
from
the
waist
down.
There
never
was
any
question
of –
I
don't
know
anything
about
that
side
of
life.
Despite
the
“Mrs.”’
In
this
office
there
were
no
windows
to
the
outside.
The
untouched
pieces
of
apple
in
the
bowl
had
turned
brown
under
the
white
lamp.
'Oh,
Sophie,'
the
secretary
said,
'don't
waste
your
life. You
know
what
love
is,
but
you
don't
know
what
loneliness
is.
Don't
let
yourself
be
lonely.’
'I
think
I'll
take
that
walk
now,'
Sophie
said
getting
to her
feet.
The
secretary's
face
tilted
palely
up
to
her.
'Maybe
I'll
buy
a
magazine,
one
of
those
woman's
ones,
the
advice
columns
always
make
me
laugh.’
Later,
her
head
buzzing
with
words,
she
would
think
of
funnier
things,
angrier
things,
and more
dignified
things.
But
on
the
spur
of
the
moment,
it
had
to
do
and,
from
the
look
on
May
Stewart's
face,
it
seemed
to
be
enough.
In
the
conference
room,
she
taped
the
bundles
and addressed
them,
and
kept
one
eye
on
the
door.
Everything
took
a
long
time;
she
kept
getting
things
wrong
and
redoing
them,
determined
there
would
be
no
faults
to
find.
Wearied,
she
looked
down
into
the
service
area.
Rain
was
seeping
on
to
the
sodden
remnants
of
cardboard
boxes.
When
the
door
opened,
she
swung
round,
startled
into the
habit
of
excusing
herself,
'I've
finished
all
I
had
to
do.’
'Good
for
you,'
Monty
Norman
said,
not
coming
in.
'Is
May
in
her
office?'
'I
can't
think
where
else
she
would
be.’
'I've
done
a
good
morning's
work,'
he
said,
standing
in
the
doorway,
rubbing
his
chin
and
watching
her.
'I
had
some
leads
I
wanted
to
follow
up.
You
and
May
must
have
wondered
where
I
was.
You'll
be
surprised.
Things
are
going
well.
You
know
like
the
song
says?
‘"There's
a
good
time
just
around
the
corner.”
I
didn't
hear
you
come
in
last
night.’
The
suddenness
of
the
transition
confused
her.
'Come in?'
'To
the
flat.
No
two
people
walk
the
same
way.
Everybody's
footsteps
coming
into
the
hall,
I
know
them
now.
I
said
to
myself,
Sophie's
making
a
night
of
it.’