Terrible Tide (12 page)

“I never thought of Mathilde as being old.”

Annie threatened to lapse into another silent reverie. Holly was getting impatient. “But where does Claude come back into the story?”

“Land’s sake, I forgot we were talking about Claude. Where was I?”

“He’d come back and Jonathan was off marrying Mathilde.”

“Oh yes. Well, once Claude realized he wasn’t going to get anything that way, he tried another tack. I don’t know’s I ever mentioned it, but Uncle Jonathan had a brother William. It was Jonathan who got Cliff House when their father died, him being the older son, but William had his share of the money fair and square, and ought to have been well-fixed for life.”

“But he wasn’t?”

Annie shook her head. “William was a lovely man, but he’d no head for money. The Parletts had always been moneymakers, and William thought he had to be one, too; though he’d have done better to sit tight and live on what he had. As it was, if some promoter came along with a scheme to pump gold out of sea water or manufacture hand-embroidered buggy whips just when folks were all selling their buggies to buy automobiles, William would be first in line to buy shares in the company. I can remember Uncle Jonathan getting him up here and trying to talk some sense into him, but William wouldn’t listen. At last he got so peeved at always being in the wrong that he wouldn’t come any more, and wouldn’t take a cent from Uncle Jonathan even after he’d run through pretty much all his father had left him.

“William was married to one of the White girls. Abigail, her name was. Aunt Maude never liked Abigail much. She thought William should have picked somebody with more gumption. Abigail was always kind of a dreamy soul, just went along with whatever William wanted to do.”

Annie wiped her eyes again and went on with the family saga. “William and Abigail had three children, two boys and a girl. Not having any young ones of his own, Uncle Jonathan naturally thought the world of his niece and nephews. Alice was his pet, being the baby and the only girl. My, how he doted on that child! Then the war came and both the sons were killed at Bastogne. They always seem to stick the Canadians right up in the front lines, no matter what.

“Anyway, that made Alice more precious than ever. And would you believe that devil Claude Parlett started courting her on the sly? He was a lot older than she, but he was handsome and smooth-talking. Next thing we knew, Claude and Alice had run off and got married. Alice was always a little weak in the head, if you want my personal opinion, but she could be stubborn as a mule.”

“I’ll bet her family had a fit.”

“They did that and then some. For once, Jonathan and William were on the same side. They and Abigail and Mathilde all tried to persuade Alice to have the marriage annulled, but she ranted and raved and vowed she’d follow her Claudie to the ends of the earth, married or not, so they had to give in.

“Uncle Jonathan took it worse than Alice’s own parents did. He’d had his will all made out leaving everything to her after Mathilde died, but he tore it up and told her point blank he’d deed Cliff House and all that went with it over to the town before he’d let Claude lay one finger on anything of his. So then he was on the outs with William and Abigail again. Much as they despised Claude, they couldn’t turn their backs on the only child they had left.”

“You can’t blame them for that,” said Holly. “Where did Claude and Alice go?”

“They didn’t go, they stayed. Claude moved into the bedroom that had always been Alice’s, and there he roosted. Somehow he’d managed to finagle a little pension out of the army. That and Alice’s parents was what they lived on, mostly. William and Abigail didn’t last long once they had Claude on their hands. Mathilde claimed they died of broken hearts, and I expect she was right.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised. What happened after the parents died?”

“Nothing much. Alice had Claudine right away and Ellis ten years later, so that gave them an allotment from the government. Claude tried a little rumrunning, so I’m told, but he drank more than he sold so that fell through. The house got shabbier and the kids ran around looking like two orphans of the storm. Alice wasn’t much of a hand at making do. She’d grown up thinking she was going to be an heiress, you see. I think she still had hopes, till Uncle Jonathan died and it turned out he’d done exactly what he’d said he would.

“That was the cap sheaf. Claude took to drinking worse than ever. Then one morning he went out to haul lobster traps, plastered as usual. He caught his foot in a line and went overboard, and that was the end of Claude Parlett. Everybody thought Alice was well rid of him, but she carried on something fierce. She shut herself up and wouldn’t let anybody near her. I went myself, for old times’ sake, but she wouldn’t see me. She claimed I was down on Claude like the rest of them, which was true enough. Next thing I heard, she was sick in bed and Claudine was taking care of her, don’t ask me how.”

“Wouldn’t Mathilde help them?”

“Mathilde wasn’t any too well herself by then, dearie. Dr. Walker said it was hardening of the arteries. She’d got it into her head she had to hang on to what there was because it was all she had left of Jonathan. Finally she got so bad she wouldn’t even part with enough money to buy groceries. I had to go to court and have her declared incompetent or we’d have starved to death. That’s how Earl Stoodley got to be a trustee. He’s always got his nose into everything, one way or another. They named Claudine along with him because she was of age by then, and Alice sent word she was too sick to serve.”

“How come Claudine agreed?”

“She was none too willing, I can tell you. Claude and Alice had always dinned it into her and Ellis that their father ought to be Uncle Jonathan’s rightful heir. After he was drowned, Alice claimed it was the awful way he’d been treated by his so-called father that drove him to it. Ellis was too little to take it in, I expect, but Claudine took every word for gospel. I suppose they had to have some reason to hold their heads up.

“Anyway, when it came to being a trustee, Claudine got up on her high horse and said she’d do her duty but she’d never set foot on the property till her family got what they were morally entitled to. So that’s why Professor Cawne isn’t going to get Claudine Parlett out here this morning or any other morning.”

“And she’s still nursing her sick mother?”

“No, she isn’t.” Annie pushed back her chair and got rheumatically to her feet.

“Why? What happened to Alice?”

“What generally happens? The way I feel this morning, I shouldn’t wonder if it happened to me before long. You wouldn’t care to give me a hand upstairs, I don’t suppose? Mrs. Parlett’s mattress hasn’t been turned in a dog’s age. I thought maybe the two of us could lift her into a chair long enough to redd the place up a little.”

“Is she heavy to lift?”

“I don’t suppose she weighs eighty pounds. She used to be a fine figure of a woman, but you’d never know it to see her now.”

N
O, HOLLY THOUGHT A
few minutes later, you’d never know it.

Mrs. Parlett lay curled up like a dead caterpillar, yellow claws hooking out from the sleeves of a beautiful peach-colored silk nightgown.

“Mathilde had a dozen of those nightgowns,” said Annie. “Said she bought ’em to keep Jonathan’s mind off other women. Aunt Maude would have bitten out her tongue sooner than say a thing like that.”

“I can see why he married Mathilde,” Holly replied drily.

“Aunt Maude was a good woman, dearie, but I have to admit Mathilde was a lot more fun to live with. She’d be singing and laughing and running out to pick flowers—now, where did I put those pillow cases?”

“Right there on the night stand. You don’t want them yet, do you? I thought we were going to get her up and strip the bed.”

“Oh my, yes. I tell you, my head’s going. All right, dearie, but we’d better wrap her up well. One good chill could carry her off, not that it wouldn’t be a blessing, but still—”

Annie fussed over her patient. She must truly have loved Mathilde, Holly thought, but reason told her there was more to be preserved here than Mrs. Parlett’s tenuous hold on life. Cliff House was Annie’s home, too. What would become of her when Mrs. Parlett died?

And how could this ancient puppet go on breathing much longer? Holly held her own breath as they lifted the fragile body in its cocoon of velvet comforters and laid it on the brocaded chaise longue. Mathilde must have loved to lie here and watch the clouds flying by outside. Could she see them now? The eyes were half open. They didn’t seem to be focusing on anything, but Holly made sure Mathilde’s head was turned toward the window, just in case.

She seemed no worse for having been moved. After they’d done the bed, Holly suggested, “Annie, why don’t we take Mrs. Parlett into your room and give this one a good airing? It’s awfully stuffy.”

It was worse than stuffy. Though Annie had done her best, there was a pervading odor of body wastes and general mustiness. Annie thought it over.

“I don’t know why we couldn’t. There’s an old wheel chair in the back bedroom. We could move her in that, easy as pie. I’ll get it.”

Annie came back pushing a golden oak contraption with huge wire wheels. They squeaked dreadfully on their rusted axles. Holly found some expensive face cream on Mathilde’s dresser that had gone rancid in the jar and lathered the joints until the wheels turned smoothly. Then it was no job at all to shift the flaccid body.

While Annie fussed over Mrs. Parlett and made helpful suggestions about a nice cup of tea, Holly vacuumed, dusted, scrubbed, even took the heavy blue velvet draperies out to the clothesline and whacked out clouds of dust with a wire beater. Then she carried them back upstairs and rehung them over windows that had got their first washing in years. By the time they got Mrs. Parlett back into bed, the room was cheery, the air was pure, and the unhealed cut on Holly’s thigh was oozing ominously.

“You did too much, dearie,” Annie clucked. “You’d better go straight to your own bed.”

“I want a bath first.”

Holly got cleaned up, found a roll of gauze and some sterile pads, and rebandaged her cut, praying it wasn’t going to need more stitches. She should have known better than to do so much. Anyway, Mathilde Parlett should rest more comfortably tonight, whether she knew it or not.

Knowing that if she didn’t go down to supper Annie would insist on struggling up to her with a tray, Holly put on her housecoat and limped to the kitchen. Bert was ensconced in his chair by the stove. He leered when he caught sight of the elegant robe.

“’Fraid you got yourself gussied up for nothin’ tonight, sis. Sam took his mother down to Saint John. She started havin’ pains, so they’re goin’ to operate soon’s they get the knife sharpened.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. I’m so sorry.”

“So’s your brother. He’s chewin’ nails an’ spittin’ tacks ’cause Sam didn’t show up today. That Mrs. Brown’s been writin’ letters again.”

“I’m curious about Mrs. Brown. Have you ever met her, Bert?”

“Not to say met her. I seen her once when she come to the shop. Brassy hair an’ paint on ’er face an’ dressed like ’er own granddaughter. She had on bright green stockin’s over the knobbiest pair o’ legs I ever did see. Tough as a boiled owl, like all them New York women.”

“I’m a New York woman.”

“Aw, you don’t count. Wouldn’t want to pour out a little snort for a poor old man, would you? I’m all in but the toenails, an’ they’re rattlin’.”

“So am I.”

Nevertheless, Holly fixed Bert’s drink. She felt a tiny bit better for knowing there actually was a Mrs. Brown, even if she couldn’t see how Mrs. Brown might fit into the strange and ugly picture that was developing.

That leg was really giving her a hard time. It was as well Sam wouldn’t be coming tonight. She was in no shape for another of his quiet strolls. What would they do when it got too cold to be out? Sit in his wagon, maybe.

No they wouldn’t. As soon as his mother got better, Sam Neill would be off on another job somewhere. And where would Holly Howe be?

B
Y MORNING, HOLLY WAS
in bad shape. A hot redness was spreading from the cut toward her groin. If she didn’t get an antibiotic soon, they’d need a new hired girl at Cliff House.

She dressed carefully, knowing she wouldn’t be able to manage a second trip upstairs. By gritting her teeth and holding tight to the stair rail, she made it down to the kitchen. As usual, Annie was already there.

“Annie,” she said, “I’ve got to see a doctor right away.”

“Dearie, what’s wrong? Are you in pain? Is it your leg?”

“Yes. How do I reach him? Should I phone for an appointment?”

“Far’s I know, you just go to his office and sit there till he calls you in. That’s how it always used to be. Bert can drive you down. He’ll be along sooner or later to bring the groceries. Claudine usually calls about now to see what I need.”

As if on cue, the telephone rang. Holly cried, “I’ll get it,” but for once Annie was the nimbler of the two. Holly had to listen in agony while Annie prattled on about tea and flour and what a grand job her new helper was doing. At last she literally couldn’t stand it any longer, and took the receiver from Annie’s hand.

“Claudine, this is Holly Howe. I have to see the doctor as soon as possible. My leg is bothering me badly. I think I can get my sister-in-law to pick me up, but how do I reach—oh, would you? That would be wonderful. No, I understand. I won’t. Thank you so much.”

She hung up. “Claudine said Dr. Walker has office hours from nine to twelve on Saturdays. She’s going to let him know I’m coming. Now please God Fan can come right away. Oh, and we’re not to let Fan inside the house, so get ready to stand guard with the broomstick.”

“Cat’s foot! A lovely woman like her.”

Annie had never laid eyes on Fan, but she was ready to endow her with all the virtues for Holly’s sake. Holly wasn’t. Fan found her ready and waiting on the front porch when she drove up in answer to Holly’s call, about half an hour later.

Holly limped to meet her. “Hi, Fan. Thanks for coming to the rescue.”