Runaway
about?”
“That man. That friend of yours.”
“Ollie? You mean Ollie’s dead?”
“Don’t you know that?” Tessa said.
“No. No.”
“I thought you would’ve known. Didn’t Wilf know?”
“
Doesn’t
Wilf know,” said Nancy in an automatic way, defending her husband by placing him amongst the living.
“I thought he would,” said Tessa. “Weren’t they related?”
Nancy did not answer. Of course she should have thought of Ollie’s being dead if Tessa was here.
“I guess he kept it to himself then,” Tessa said.
“Wilf was always good at that,” said Nancy. “Where did this happen? Were you with him?”
Tessa wagged her head to say No, or that she didn’t know.
“Well when? What did they tell you?”
“Nobody told me. They never would tell me anything.”
“Oh, Tessa.”
“I had a hole in my head. I had it for a long time.”
“Is it like you used to know things?” said Nancy. “You remember the way?”
“They gave me gas.”
“Who?” said Nancy sternly. “What do you mean they gave you gas?”
“The ones in charge here. They gave me the needles.”
“You said gas.”
“They gave me the needles and the gas too. It was to cure my head. And to make me not remember. Certain things I do remember, but I have trouble with telling how long ago. There was that hole in my head for a very long time.”
“Did Ollie die before you came in here or after? You don’t
remember
how he died?”
“Oh, I saw him. He had his head wrapped up in a black coat. Tied with a cord around the neck. Somebody did it to him.” Her lips for a moment were clamped together. “Somebody should have gone to the electric chair.”
“Maybe that was a bad dream you had. You might have got your dream mixed up with what really happened.”
Tessa lifted her chin as if to settle something. “Not that. I haven’t got that mixed up.”
The shock treatments, Nancy thought. Shock treatments left holes in the memory? There would have to be something in the records. She would go and talk to the Matron again.
She looked at what Elinor was doing with the discarded bits of dough. She had molded them cleverly, sticking heads and ears and tails onto them. Little dough mice.
With a sharp swift motion, Tessa made air slits in the top crusts of the pies. The mice went into the oven with them, on their own tin plate.
Then Tessa held out her hands, and stood waiting while Elinor got a small damp towel to wipe away any sticky dough or dusting of flour.
“Chair,” said Tessa in an undertone, and Elinor brought a chair and placed it at the end of the table, near Nancy’s, so that Tessa could sit down.
“And maybe you could go and make us a cup of tea,” Tessa said. “Don’t worry, we’ll keep an eye on your treats. We’ll watch your mousies.
“Let’s forget all we were talking about,” she said to Nancy. “Weren’t you going to have a baby, the last I heard from you? Was it a boy or a girl?”
“A boy,” said Nancy. “That was years and years ago. And after that I had two girls. They’re all grown-up now.”
“You don’t notice in here how time goes by. That may be a blessing or it may not, I don’t know. What are they doing then?”
“The boy—”
“What did you call him?”
“Alan. He went in for medicine too.”
“He’s a doctor. That’s good.”
“The girls are both married. Well, Alan’s married too.”
“So what are their names? The girls’?”
“Susan and Patricia. They both took up nursing.”
“You chose nice names.”
Tea was brought—the kettle must be kept on the boil here all the time—and Tessa poured.
“Not the best china in the world,” she said, reserving for herself a slightly chipped cup.
“It’s fine,” said Nancy. “Tessa. Do you remember what you used to be able to do? You used to be able to—you used to know things. When people lost things, you used to be able to tell them where they were.”
“Oh no,” Tessa said. “I just pretended.”
“You couldn’t have.”
“It bothers my head to talk about it.”
“I’m sorry.”
The Matron had appeared in the doorway.
“I don’t want to disturb you having your tea,” she said to Nancy. “But if you wouldn’t mind popping into my room for just a minute when you’re finished—”
Tessa hardly waited until the woman was out of earshot.
“That’s so you won’t have to say good-bye to me,” she said. She seemed to be settling into appreciation of a familiar joke.
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