Designs on Life Read Online Free PDF Page B

seem quite natural. Of course I realise you may think I’m very interfering, but I’m a very old woman and I always say what I think now, and I know that sometimes it’s a help to have someone to talk to, even someone like me. So tell me, my dear, was the trouble another woman? Was that the real reason why you left Africa, and why you think your husband let you take that unsafe car out on purpose?”
    “On purpose?” Helen said sharply. “Whatever made you think that?”
    “It’s the truth, isn’t it?”
    “No, of course not. I’ve never thought of such a thing.”
    “Dear, dear,” Mrs. Lambie said with a sigh. “How very sad. Because it’s what your husband thinks himself, you know. He says you blame him for your accident. He told me so himself only yesterday.”
    “Yesterday?” Helen said.
    “Yes, when he dropped in for a drink with me when he got back from the library. I happened to be coming up the stairs myself when he got home and I asked him in for a chat. And we had a wee drink together. I do so enjoy company for a wee drink. It isn’t the same when you’re by yourself. And he told me how you blamed him for not having had the brakes of the car seen to, just as I was saying to you the other day. And he said how angry you were with him for taking a flat at the top of so many stairs and how you’d stopped trusting him in any way. And I asked him if the real trouble was another woman, because that’s what it generally is, and he didn’t answer, but I could tell from the way he coloured up that I’d hit on the truth. Oh dear, it’s so sad. He’s so very unhappy about it. If only I could persuade you not to blame him, because young men like him can’t help attracting women, you know. They’ll always pursue him. There are people who are like that without meaning any harm, women as well as men. They can’t help it. So if you can’t make up your mind to put up with it, you’ll never be happy yourself. Do take my advice and try to conquer your jealousy. There’s been enough unhappiness in this flat because of jealousy. I told you all about that, didn’t I—about the young advocate and the beautiful maid? Yes, I remember I did. Well, we don’t want any more tragedy here, do we?”
    Helen had been only half listening to what the old woman had been saying. She had taken in the fact that Colin had visited Mrs. Lambie the evening before when he returned from the library, had apparently unburdened himself to her, and then had said nothing about this to Helen. And the fantastic thing about this was that what Helen felt about it was a kind of jealousy. That he should have kept the visit to himself made it seem important, overwhelming her for a moment with as deep a fear of losing him as she had ever felt when she had known that he was with Naomi. For if he was afraid to tell her such a thing, it must mean, surely, that she had completely lost his confidence.
    Determined above all things that the old woman should not see how she had been shaken, she asked, “Wouldn’t you like a drink now, Mrs. Lambie?”
    “No, no, thank you, it’s much too early in the morning for me,” Mrs. Lambie replied. She stood up. “I hope you enjoy the soup. I’m very fond of a good lentil soup myself, and it’s as easy to make a big potful as a small one. And think over what I’ve been saying, because I’ve had a great deal of experience of life and I know what I’m talking about. Good-bye for now. Don’t bother to come to the door. I’ll let myself out.”
    Helen let her do so, then got to her feet and poured out the drink for herself that Mrs. Lambie had refused. Before she drank it, she took two of her pills. Her leg was hurting more than usual. Nerves, she thought. She had actually let that old creature upset her.
    Colin came home earlier than he had the day before, bringing with him a cold roast chicken and the makings of a salad. It would have been a chilly meal for such an evening, if it had not been for