A Closed Eye (34 page)

‘ “Mais Madame la Duchesse, la mort est un mot presque vide de sens pour la plupart des hommes. Ce n’est qu’un instant, et en général on ne le sent pas. On souffre, on est étonné des sensations étranges qui surviennent, et tout à coup on ne souffre plus, l’instant est passé, on est mort …” ’

‘Death is a meaningless word for most people,’ Lizzie translated. ‘It is only a moment, and generally one does not feel it. One suffers, one is surprised by the strange sensations that arrive, and all of a sudden, the moment passes, one is dead.’

‘ “Ah! Monsieur,” ’
Harriet went on.
‘ “C’est le moment de la mort dont je ne puis supporter I’idée.” ’

‘It is the moment of death that I dread.’

She remembered the passage. It was one of her favourites.

‘ “Mais, Madame,” ’
Harriet went on, with rising conviction.
‘ “Ce moment est occupé par une douleur quelquefois bien peu vive. On la sent encore, et par conséquent, l’on vit, on n’est pas mort, on n’est encore que dangereusement malade. Tout à coup, on ne sent plus rien, on est mort. Donc, la mort n’est rien. C’est une porte ouverte ou fermée, if faut qu’elle soit l’un ou l’autre, elle ne peut pas être une troisième chose.” ’

‘But Madame,’ said Lizzie. ‘That moment is taken up with a little pain. One still feels it, and therefore one is alive, one is not dead, only mortally ill. Suddenly one feels nothing, one is dead. Therefore death is nothing. It is a door which is either open or closed, it must be one or the other. There is no third way,’ she finished.

Harriet closed the book. ‘Thank you, dear. Thank you. No third way,’ she repeated, and smiled.

They saw Lizzie off the following day. ‘Goodbye,’ they said. ‘Goodbye. You’ll come back?’ they enquired ardently.

‘Of course,’ she said, for a third time. This time it was not a lie. ‘My father,’ she said. ‘I telephoned him to say I was coming. He said to send you his love.’

Jack Peckham. Another lifetime.

That evening Harriet, standing at the window, saw the sun descend majestically into the lake. Turning, she surveyed the empty room. My life, she thought, an empty room. But she felt no pain, felt in fact the cautious onset of some kind of release. Vividly, she caught sight of Immy’s face. She drew in a deep breath, laughed. There it was again, Immy’s face as it had always been. She laughed again, at the image of Immy’s laughing face. Sinking on to the sofa she let the tears rain down. Never to lack for company again. All will be as before, she thought, as she wept in gratitude. When my little girl was young.