Bildungsromans; Blind -- Fiction; Parent and child -- Fiction; Young men -- Fiction
Well, that was that. She sank into a chair. A great sigh escaped from
inside her. How terrible a house looked when you were gettin’ out of
it. And all the doors were always left open. She got up and shut them,
then she came back to her chair. This rain was horrible, and there was
no fire. Had she said a word to everyone? Of course she was not going
away for good, but they were not to live down here any more, so that a
word or two was expected of you. It was so difficult, too, to find
anythin’ to say. She had loved them all, and they loved her, but they
did not understand her going away like this. They were always asking
who was going to live here instead, and she did not know. It was a
relief, though, now that they were really off, now that those endless
discussions were over. Mabel was impossible sometimes, this business
had estranged them almost. The clock had stopped. Really, William might
have wound it up, even if they weren’t going to be here this evenin’.
She looked at her watch. Twenty-nine minutes.
It was nice of Edward to lend them his house with the caretaker and his
wife. The two would quarrel, of course, that was the trouble about
having married servants, but they would be comfortable there, and it
would give one time to look round. 9 Hans Crescent. A German name, but,
after all, the war had been over for some time. Nine. But ... And she
had only counted eight, and she had let them go off. What was this?
“William, William!”
“Yes, madam.”
“Did you take Mr. John’s trunk?”
“Mr. John? Mr. John’s box?”
“Oh, oh. I was afraid that would happen. I should have reminded you.
Oh, dear.”
“Will you take it with you, madam?”
“Yes, that would be best. Will you get it down now, and tell Mr. John
that we start in twenty minutes?”
How terrible all this was. There was William’s voice calling for
Robert. He was useless, that boy, quite useless. Why was he never there
when he was wanted? He was a good riddance, worthless creature. And
William was beginning to forget everything. What could one do?
They would have to take his box with them. And they would have to start
earlier so as to have time to label it and everything. Really, John
might have told them that he still had it in his room.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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