The Madman's Room

Dorothy’s silence confirmed that she had the same suspicions.

‘I started wondering last month,’ said Howard, ‘when he told us he’d broken off his engagement to Bessie Blount. She’s a sweet girl and I couldn’t understand why it had happened.’ His expression hardened. ‘The question went unanswered… until today.’

* * *

The next day, Wednesday, Francis and Paula paid a visit to Bessie Blount. They’d been in the habit of going round once a week and thought it would be insensitive not to do so now.

Bessie’s house was situated a few hundred yards to the left on the way out of the village, beyond a heavily wooded area and just before the winding, pebble-strewn road which led gently uphill to the manor. For residents of Hatton Manor desirous of visiting the Blount residence, however, there was a path down through the undergrowth which led directly to a gate in the fence surrounding the property, from whence a path wound its way through a small meadow to a modest shed which had served as Bessie’s grandfather’s workshop.

The old man hadn’t set foot in the place since the accidental death of his son, for which he felt himself responsible: Bessie’s father had been crushed by the weight of a heavy wardrobe which had fallen on him as a result of a faulty manoeuvre.

Beyond the workshop lay a kitchen garden, a hedge, a small lawn in the shade of a weeping willow, and the Blounts’ house itself.

It was the path through the undergrowth which Francis and Paula usually took to visit their neighbour. They found her installed in a deckchair beneath the weeping willow. Seeing them, she sat up and smiled warmly.

The young couple, who had come prepared to offer words of comfort following Mike Meadows’ engagement to Sarah, were relieved to find that she was actually in excellent spirits. They sat down to tea and were caught off balance when Bessie announced:

‘Grandfather fell ill yesterday… Nothing serious, I can assure you.’

‘The heat, I suppose?’ suggested Francis, stirring his tea.

‘No, it was when he went into his old workshop.’

Francis stopped stirring and Paula looked in the direction of the small building whose roof was visible through the trees.

‘As you know, nobody’s been in there since father died… least of all grandfather, who’s never been able to forget the accident.’ Bessie sighed. ‘Nevertheless, he went up there yesterday afternoon, to look for a tool to replace his broken spade… I can still see him making the announcement over lunch in a casual manner which fooled nobody: mother and I knew how much it cost him to go there, and he could have easily repaired his spade using his other tools. It was obviously a pretext for trying to get rid of his guilty conscience once and for all. We watched him set out briskly, whistling so as to appear confident.’

‘Francis, you can put your spoon down now,’ said Paula with amusement. ‘You’ve been holding it up in the air for thirty seconds.’

‘My spoon?’ said Francis in embarrassment. ‘Ah, yes,’ he muttered, shrugging his shoulders.

Bessie watched him with a faint smile on her lips:

‘You make me think of Mike. His mind went blank like that from time to time. Where was I?’

‘Your grandfather was going to his workshop,’ prompted Paula.

‘Right. Well, he returned ten minutes later with a heavy step and looking quite haggard. He said he’d been taken ill when he was inside and had had to lie down on the grass to recover.’

‘I imagine he’d relived the moment of tragedy,’ declared Paula dramatically.

‘Quite so, but he didn’t want to admit it. Anyway, he won’t be going back there again in a hurry.’

‘So nothing serious,’ said Francis, making a vague gesture.

Bessie shook her head, still smiling faintly.

Paula decided it was the moment to grasp the nettle.

‘My dear Bessie, I’m so glad to see your habitual good humour hasn’t been affected by… recent events.’

Her friend couldn’t help chuckling.

‘Are you talking about Mike? And his engagement to Sarah?’

‘Believe me,’ replied Francis, looking down, ‘it gave us no pleasure to hear it. I’m not passing judgment about Mike, but I can’t say I’m thrilled by my sister’s behaviour, not just towards you, but also—.’

‘My Goodness, Francis, how old-fashioned you can be!’ exclaimed Bessie. ‘Harris has been dead for over a year, don’t you think that’s long enough to respect conventions?’ She looked at their solemn faces. ‘I think you’ve got hold of the wrong end of the stick. Mike and I stopped seeing each other — at least in the sense you mean — at the beginning of the year. After the first break-up, we tried again with the same result. Quite simply, our hearts weren’t in it. We decided to remain good friends and to put up appearances for a while. It was Mike’s idea to let people gradually get used to the idea, rather than make a sudden announcement, which would inevitably have caused gossip and would have been bad for his medical practice.’

“Marrying Sarah will certainly put an end to that worry,” said Francis to himself.