Death is a Word (6 page)

‘Not here. Can we go somewhere after this is finished?’

‘Yes, of course. Come back to the cottage and have a drink – we’re going to need one by then.’ There was a pause, then she said, ‘You look very serious, what is it?’

‘Later. I’ll tell you later.’

The voices died away and I finished making the lemon tea.

‘It seems like such a good opportunity,’ Rosemary said. ‘Jilly’s taking some things that Delia says she wants in Oxford and I’ve been longing to see her room and how she’s settled in. And St Hilda’s is such an interesting college, with the river and everything.’

‘It sounds lovely,’ I said. ‘How long will you be away?’

‘We thought we’d take a whole week. I’ve always wanted to see Blenheim and we might be able to get tickets for a matinee at Stratford …’

‘Good for you. You haven’t had a proper holiday for ages and it will be nice for you and Jilly to spend some time together. What about Mark and Jack?’

‘Mark’s going to stay with a school friend and Jack says he can fend for himself. I’ll leave lots of things
in the freezer, but I expect he’ll live on fish and chips and takeaways. Actually, I think he’s quite looking forward to having the house to himself and doing what he wants to do when he wants to do it.’

‘Where are you staying?’

‘There’s what sounds like rather a nice little hotel in Summertown. Jilly found it on the Internet, which is how people seem to do things now.’

‘I’m sure it’ll be lovely.’ I paused and then asked the inevitable question. ‘What about your mother?’

Rosemary laughed. ‘
Such
a good idea. Something she’s always wanted to do, but, of course, she’s only a poor old woman and things like that are impossible for her, though, naturally, if someone had
asked
her, she would have made every effort and it would have been such a treat, since
she
never has the chance to leave the house these days. But she quite understands that the young are all so busy with their own lives that they don’t have time for old people. They’ll understand when
they’re
old. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine, you go and enjoy yourself … etc., etc.’

‘Oh dear.’

‘Oh, it’s only what I expected and I’m certainly not going to let it spoil things for me.’

‘I’ll keep an eye on things and call round and let her tell me how selfish the young are if you like.’

‘Bless you, she’ll love that.’

‘You go off and have a lovely time and don’t worry about anything.’

A few days after Rosemary left, I phoned her mother. Elsie, her housekeeper, answered, which was unusual, since Mrs Dudley usually kept a firm control over that particular instrument.

‘I’m afraid she’s really quite poorly,’ Elsie said. ‘I called the surgery, but, of course now Dr Macdonald’s retired she doesn’t care for any of the other doctors. It’s really very awkward. Still, I spoke to Dr Porter, he’s the one I go to, and he was very nice. He said he’d come round – we’re only a few minutes away – which was very good of him. You know how they don’t visit these days, but he could tell that I was worried. Anyway, he did come and he was very good with her. He says she’s got this gastric thing that’s going round, very nasty it is. Lots of fluids, he said, and to keep warm and stay in bed. Like I said, he was really very nice. And he’ll come later in the week, but said to call him if she wasn’t any better.’

‘Oh dear,’ I said. ‘I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do? Shall I call round?’

‘No, dear, there’s nothing you can do and I think she’d rather you waited until she feels better – you know what I mean.’

I did know. Mrs Dudley never cared for visitors unless she was feeling (and looking) her best.

‘I quite understand. Have you been in touch with Rosemary?’

‘I did suggest it but she said she wouldn’t dream of spoiling her holiday.’ I could imagine the exact martyred tone in which this was uttered. ‘And really, Mrs Malory, I think she just wants to be quiet. You know how it is when you don’t feel a hundred per cent.’

‘Of course. Well, give her my love and mind you look after yourself.’

‘Oh, I’m all right, I never catch anything and nothing ever bothers me.’

I reflected that, after all her years with Mrs Dudley, it would take something positively cataclysmic to ruffle Elsie.

After having done my duty by Mrs Dudley, I thought Rosemary would expect me to see how Eva was. And, actually, I was curious about the conversation with Donald that I’d overheard at the garden party. What, I wondered, was the serious thing he wanted to talk to her about? Eva was quite a long time answering the phone and I thought she was out, and when she did answer, she didn’t seem herself.

‘It’s this wretched gastric thing,’ she said when I enquired. ‘Apparently there’s a lot of it about. Well,
that’s what Mrs Mac said.’ Mrs Mac is her cleaner and a great one for stating the obvious.

‘Oh dear, how horrible. Is there anything I can do? Shall I come round?’

‘That’s sweet of you but there’s nothing I need. I’ve been up and down all night and I feel a bit wobbly and just want to go back to bed.’

‘What about your prescription?’

‘No, I’m all right for everything at the moment and, as you can imagine, I don’t feel like any food. I just want to crawl away and be by myself.’

‘Well, take care and do ring if there’s anything I can do.’

But the next day I was incapable of doing anything. Whatever it was that was going round had caught up with me and it was as much as I could do to cope with the animals, who never seem to understand about human illness. The next few days were very unpleasant and I was really grateful to Thea who came in to see to Tris and Foss and supply me with the lots of fluids that Dr Horobin had prescribed for Mrs Dudley. But, on the whole, I understood exactly what Eva meant by being on your own.

When I felt well enough to get up and lie on the couch, feeling like a Victorian heroine, pale and interesting, I thought I should enquire after the other two invalids. Mrs Dudley had resumed control of the
telephone and was able to tell me just how ill she had been.

‘Dr Horobin said I must have a wonderful constitution to have made such a good recovery from a bad attack like that at my age. He did say, however, that I must take
especial
care now and take things very slowly. Of course, he’ll never be another Dr Macdonald, but he seems to be very sensible for a young man.’

I reflected that, as Elsie said, he had been very good with her. In a brief pause in the conversation I tentatively mentioned that I too had been ill and was still not really able to do much.

‘Oh, you young people, no stamina. Dr Porter said that mine is the last generation who are the real survivors.’

Well, that was true at any rate. I rang Eva but there was no reply and I hoped it meant that she was now sufficiently recovered to go out. I still didn’t feel well enough to make any effort myself and was looking forward to Rosemary’s return and all the news she might bring.

She came back a day early and the news she brought was not what I had expected.

‘Oh, Sheila, I had to come round – I couldn’t tell you on the phone,’ she burst out before I could express surprise at her early return.

‘What on earth’s the matter?’

‘It’s Eva. She’s dead.’

‘No! How awful. What happened? I know she had this wretched bug but she seemed to be getting over it.’

‘Mrs Mac went round to clean as usual. She rang the bell but there was no answer. She thought Eva had gone out but the car was still there. Still, she’s got a key so she let herself in. Everything looked normal but then she found Eva in bed …’ She paused, then went on. ‘She couldn’t rouse her so she called an ambulance and they said she was dead and had been for a couple of days.’

‘How horrible.’

‘I know.’ She was silent for a moment. ‘Dr Porter came and there’s got to be a post-mortem.’

‘Oh, Rosemary, I’m so sorry.’

‘It was a tremendous shock. I feel so dreadful, being away …’

‘I feel guilty too. I should have gone round, but then I got this beastly thing that knocked me out. And I really did think she was getting over it – when I rang she said she just wanted to be on her own.’

Rosemary shook her head. ‘No, there was probably nothing any of us could have done. It’s just that, well, she is – was – family, you know how it is.’

‘Does your mother know?’

‘No, I thought I’d leave it until we knew more about things. It will be such a shock and Elsie says she’s really been quite ill.’

‘Yes, it was quite a virulent bug. How did you hear?’

‘Dr Porter phoned me, because he knew we were related and they needed a relative to make arrangements and so on. Of course I wasn’t there, so he told Jack, who phoned me. It was awful when I got the message – I couldn’t believe it. Eva’s always been so lively, so active.’ She bit her lip to stop the tears. ‘She was always so special to me.’

‘I know.’

Rosemary sighed. ‘And I’ve had such a marvellous week. Oxford was wonderful, and Stratford, and it was so nice doing things with Jilly – it makes it feel worse somehow …’

‘Nonsense,’ I said. ‘No matter what has happened, Eva would have been so pleased you’ve had a lovely time. She was all for people enjoying themselves. Now, I’m going to put the kettle on and you must tell me all about it.’

The news of Eva’s death was a surprise and shock to a great many people. When I felt able to go to Brunswick Lodge a few days later it was still the main topic of conversation.

‘Such a terrible thing to have happened,’ Alison
Shelby was saying when I arrived. ‘And lying there like that for all those days. It doesn’t bear thinking about.’ She became aware of my presence. ‘Of course, you were such a great friend – you must feel dreadful about it.’

‘Yes,’ I said briefly. ‘It was a great shock.’

‘And poor Rosemary –
she
was away, wasn’t she? What a thing to come back to.’

I didn’t reply and she went on, ‘Donald was really upset – well, they’d become quite close, if you know what I mean. At least, that’s what I’ve been given to believe. And he was away too. Imagine what
he
must be feeling.’

‘I think he was away on business,’ Maureen Philips said. ‘Not just on holiday.’

‘We don’t know yet what caused poor Eva’s death,’ Matthew Paisley broke in. ‘It’s a bit soon to be apportioning the guilt.’

‘Oh no,’ Alison said hastily ‘I never meant—’

‘So we don’t know if anyone could have done anything to help her.’ Matthew persisted.

‘No, of course not. I just thought …’

‘I tried to ring her,’ Maureen said. ‘I thought she might know when Donald would be back. I needed to tell him about a committee meeting. But there was no reply. That was on the Wednesday. Do you think that she was, you know,
then
?’

‘Oh dear,’ Alison clasped her hands together in a dramatic gesture. ‘How
awful
! When did the cleaner find her?’

‘I think she goes in on a Friday,’ Maureen said. ‘I seem to remember Eva saying it was sometimes awkward because she always liked to do any writing she had on Fridays and it was a bit difficult with Mrs Mac hoovering all round her.’

‘So if you phoned on the Wednesday, then she might—’

‘We won’t know anything until after the post-mortem,’ Matthew said abruptly. ‘I think we should stop all this speculation.’ He looked at me. ‘It must be very distressing for her close friends and family.’

‘Oh no – I wouldn’t dream …’ Maureen said hastily. ‘I’m sorry, Sheila.’

‘I think Matthew is right,’ I said. ‘We won’t know what actually happened until Dr Porter informs the family.’

‘They’ve got the post-mortem results,’ Rosemary said.

‘Was it this virus thing?’ I asked.

‘In a way. It was the diabetes, really. She died because she didn’t take her insulin.’

‘But she was always so good about that.’

‘Dr Porter thinks she was feeling so ill with that wretched virus that she simply forgot,’ Rosemary said.
‘And then, of course, she was dehydrated anyway. There’s something called diabetic acidosis that can be caused by gastritis. Apparently it’s the fever and vomiting – you don’t take your insulin. It’s all very complicated, I don’t understand the half of it. But so awful – if I’d been here I’d have been able to see to her, it need never have happened …’ Her voice trailed away.

‘It’s not your
fault
,’ I said vehemently. ‘No one could have foreseen it. I feel guilty too. I should have followed up my phone call. I might have been in time to save her. I feel terrible about it. But it’s happened and it’s dreadful and there’s nothing we can do about it now.’

We were both silent for a moment, then Rosemary said, ‘Of course, I’ve had to tell Mother.’

‘Oh dear. How did she take it?’

‘Surprisingly well, really, I thought, she was very upset.’

‘I suppose,’ I said thoughtfully, ‘that if you’re really old, then death isn’t such a surprise – I mean, you’re used – in a way – to your friends dying …’

‘She talked a lot about Alan and how devoted he and Eva were.’

‘How about Daniel?’

‘Absolutely devastated, poor boy. Losing Eva so soon after Alan. I know he didn’t see a lot of them –
he’d got his own life – but they were all very close. Thank goodness he’s got Patrick.’

‘Yes, he struck me as being someone who’d be good in a crisis.’

‘They’re coming down for the funeral – we can arrange that now. Well, I said I’d do everything. I think Eva would want it down here. Mother and I thought she’d like to be buried near her parents; Alan was cremated, of course. Daniel said he’d leave it all to me and Patrick seemed to think it was the best plan.’

‘Is there anything I can do?’

‘Not really. It’s all in hand now and I’ve seen the vicar of St Mary’s. Such a nice man, very helpful. There’s a spot in the graveyard quite close to her parents’ grave.’

‘She’d like that.’

‘Yes. Oh, Sheila,’ Rosemary burst out, ‘all this suddenly makes it real. Somehow it wasn’t before …’

‘I know. Just at first you can abstract your mind in a way, but there comes a moment when it hits you and you know it’s really happened and nothing’s ever going to change that.