Better to Eat You (25 page)

Grandfather shifted. He kept his hand against his face as if he shielded his cheek from the fire, although there was no fire burning any more. Sarah sat on the stool and looked helplessly up into his face. “There has been too much trouble,” Grandfather said. “This child had a bad experience. Her bridegroom fell dead—of a heart thing, they say—as they left the altar. She cannot be rid of it. She cannot shake off that ghost. She has come to believe that wherever she goes, goes tragedy.”

“I've heard this before. First from Wakeley. Then from Miss Lupino.” The Deputy was impatient.

Sarah saw that her fate was not in her own hands, not in her will. She understood nothing.

“Well, then,” said Grandfather, “now we've done all we can. I asked Wakeley to come here because Sarah was drawn to him and I felt it would heal her.” Sarah's lips fell open. “But the compulsion to punish
herself,
you see …” Sarah caught breath. “She set their working place on fire. Perhaps you know that,” said Grandfather.

“That isn't true,” said Sarah.

Grandfather didn't seem to hear. Perhaps she hadn't spoken. “Then poor Dr. Perrott, in love with Malvina, chose to drive himself over the road's edge and Sarah, of course, welcomed it. It seemed proof to her,” said Grandfather, “that all she wished to believe was so.”

“No,” said Sarah. “No, I never wished …”

“Ah, dearie, so long we've watched it,” said Grandfather sadly, “and
you
would not know.”

She thought she was going to fall. She reached for the brandy.

“But Edgar was saved.” Grandfather watched her sideways. “That was not in her pattern. Well, she had the poison …”

“I … did not have the poison,” said Sarah.

“Wakeley realized how serious her state was,” Grandfather went on speaking, “and urged psychiatric care. Oh, we were coming to it. And perhaps she knew this also.” Grandfather sighed. “Sarah put the wire in the path, of course.”

“But I … did not,” said Sarah. “Why? Why?”

“In your mind, my poor Sarah,” said Grandfather, “there
is
no reliable reason.” He leaned forward, eyes keen. “I saw you from my room. On the sea walk, this afternoon, with the wire in your hands.”

“Now you are lying, too,” said Sarah faintly.

Grandfather did not move his eyes. “Ah, she says everyone is lying,” he said softly, “all a part of this … Look out! Give her the brandy!”

The Deputy bent and his arm went around her. He took the little glass out of her numb fingers and Sarah felt it against her lips. “Come now,” he rumbled. “Don't worry. Nobody's going to hurt you.”

“Everyone says …” her mouth refused the glass to be able to speak, “things that are not true.”

“Now, that's not the way to look at it, miss.” The Deputy spoke one word, aside. “Paranoia?”

“Poor child,” said Grandfather. “Poor, poor child …” and she saw his eyes.

Sarah straightened her back. Her hand struck the glass and it moved in the Deputy's hand as if on a hinge, away. She bent, feeling the Deputy's arm strongly holding her (and fighting to believe she was sane). Sarah peered upward. There was something she had seen before. Something she knew and had not seen in a long time. “Your eyes, Grandfather,” she stammered.

His eyes were perfectly cruel.

Sarah swayed and the Deputy held her and the glass came up. “I don't want it,” Sarah said. “I've got to think … because … everyone … really is … telling lies.…”

The liquid would have slopped into her mouth but she heard David saying in a firm commanding voice, “Open the old man's shirt.”

So the Deputy turned. Grandfather leaned forward, one hand out. The Deputy's fingers loosened and the old man took the glass. His head turned, eyes slid; the face was furious and evil.

Sarah knew that David was approaching. She saw that he had his arm around a stout blonde woman who walked … why, she was old! … who tottered, with her eyes fixed on Grandfather, slowly toward them.

Maxwell swore and his arm fell from Sarah's back.

Sarah turned her head again.

“
Grandfather,
” she cried, and fell to her knees in perfect panic “Grandfather, what is the matter?
Why is your mouth the way it is?
”

The lips writhed and through the bad teeth, bitterly, viciously, the old man said, “
The better to eat you,
my dearie? Eh? Sarah?” And the little glass fell from his hand to the carpet.

“Get out of the way,” the doctor said.

Maxwell lifted Sarah bodily.

Arms took her.

The doctor, working, giving orders, opened the old man's clothing.

“Look, Sarah,” said David in her ear. “It was
all
a lie. Do you know that scar?”

“I remember it,” Sarah said.

“Don't watch, then. The brandy was poisoned. He is dying.” David's fingers pressed her face. His voice was tender and she was in his arms.

Consuelo McGhee's beach house was furnished in slap-dash elegance. Sarah rested there on a wildly flowered couch and watched Consuelo encourage the fire.

“I think I remember you,” puzzled Sarah, “but why do I think of red hair?”

“No doubt because I had it,” said Consuelo, “the week end of the arrow. Must have been your father I gave what-for?”

Sarah nodded.

“Your mama had the grand good sense to run away with him and get out of that. Might as well know that I don't think your own grandfather was a lot better than this one. They were very much alike, more ways than their looks, that pair. Don't blame yourself for being fooled. Lupino fooled everyone. Would have fooled me, too, as far as that goes.
I
wouldn't have sworn which one he was. So
old.
” Poking the fire, Consuelo shivered.

“I was in a state when I came here,” said Sarah flushing, “and he was kind.”

“Honey,” Consuelo said.

“Yes, Mrs. McGhee?”

“He had to be kind. But it was just a legend. He was no ancient lovable clown. He was arrogant and wicked. You've been fighting alone too long and you didn't know what it was you were fighting, and it's not so good to be alone.” Consuelo sat down and twisted her beads and something about her was wise and comical. “Now don't you mourn them, Sarah, those three. They couldn't stomach
themselves,
if you ask me. All three of them did themselves in, if you'll notice. Edgar must have known there was poison in the glass and knew who put it there. That's why he took it. And Malvina might as well have jumped. I told you.”

“Yes.”

“And the old man knew the brandy was poisoned. He planned it for
you.
”

“Yes, I know.”

“Let's us be glad it's over,” Consuelo grinned, “and wait for Davey.”

So David found them. “Tidied up?” asked Consuelo brightly.

“Fairly so.” David sat down. He was tired. The Sheriff's Deputy had been a blaze of angry energy, beating about him for order and information, mad as a bee because he had almost poisoned Sarah Shepherd with his own hand. “How are you, Sarah?”

“Sarah's fine. We hashed it all out. It's all straight now.” Consuelo's chins joggled.

Sarah said soberly, “It's hard to believe that they are all gone. The Nest is empty.”

“Nest of snakes,” snorted Consuelo.

“What a blood thirsty old critter this is,” said David adoringly.

“I can't get over it,” said Sarah, suddenly sparkling. “She climbed up that scary path for my sake and she doesn't even know me.”

“Go ahead, make me a hero,” beamed Consuelo. “I did it for Davey, you know.”

“He doesn't know me, either,” Sarah said.

“Well …” David smiled. “By the way, Sarah. Here is your Will. Shall we burn it?”

Sarah said, “That was silly. It's like waking up.” She sat high and saw the paper flare. “It seems almost f-funny now. How you and I kept asking each other to get married. Whatever were we thinking of?”

David batted his lock desperately. Consuelo yawned. “What's that? Eleven-thirty! Past my bedtime. Good night, children.”

Sarah watched her go. She turned to look at David and he was trying to bite a smile in two. “She's lying!” said Sarah.

“Yep.”

“I bet it's not her bedtime. Oh, David, I could just adore her, too.” Sarah's eyes filled with tears. “I don't know what to say to you. I hardly know where I am.”

He picked up her hand, fearful for her still, wanting for her peace and balance. “You'll see,” he murmured. “Work it out slowly. But there's nothing wrong. You
don't
bring bad luck.
Couldn't.
Will you hang on to that to start with?”

“I know I am lucky,” she said solemnly.

He thought of the pressures she'd had upon her, the evil that had been all around her, and how this small body encased a spirit that had not broken. His eyes stung. “Meantime,” he said cheerfully, holding back, “you know, I need a secretary.”

Sarah's beautiful mouth twitched. “You
are
stubborn,” it said.

He could see past the tears to the laughter and deeper. He looked at the mouth and held back no longer.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

copyright © 1954 by Charlotte Armstrong

copyright renewed 1982 by Jeremy B. Lewi, Peter A. Lewi, and Jacquelin Lewi Bynagta

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