Change had certainly come to the Queen’s House. Mrs. Morton wanted to leave at once and she did. Ellen said Mr. Orfey had no objection to her staying until I found someone else to suit. Chantel asked if she could stay on for a while although there would be no need for her services.

“Please stay,” I begged, and she did.


* * *

We used to sit in the Queen’s room — Chantel’s favorite room — and talk about the future. Sometimes she would lie on the Queen’s bed, very gingerly, always aware of its age and the need to preserve it, and say that she felt like the Queen. She tried to be lighthearted, but I found that difficult. I knew that people were talking. I had inherited so much, they said. And Mrs. Buckle had often talked about the trouble that always seemed to be brewing between myself and my aunt, although everything did run more smoothly since Nurse Loman came.

Chantel helped me sort things out. I soon learned that what I had inherited was mostly debts. What had happened to Aunt Charlotte? In the last two or three years she had lost her judgment. No wonder she would not let me look at the books. I was horrified at the price she had paid for those Chinese pieces. There were other pieces too. Beautiful in themselves, but more suitable for museums than for private buyers. She had borrowed from the bank at a high rate of interest. I quickly realized that the business was on the edge of bankruptcy.

Sometimes I would wake in the night and think I heard Aunt Charlotte’s mocking laughter. And then one night I woke with a horrible thought in my mind. I remembered the night when I had found myself standing in my room; and I visualized myself going down in my sleep to Aunt Charlotte’s room and taking six of these opium pills, dissolving them in water and putting them at her bedside. She often drank water during the night. There was some spilt on the bedside table. Suppose …


* * *

“What’s the matter?” demanded Chantel. “You look as though you haven’t slept a wink.”

“I’m terribly afraid,” I said, and she insisted on my telling her.

“You didn’t write in your journal about that dream you had some time ago.”

“No, I thought it was too trivial.”

“Nothing’s too trivial. And we promised to tell all.” She was mildly reproachful.

“Is it important?”

“Yes,” she said, “everything is important. That’s what I’ve learned in my profession. But never mind that now. Anna, you must get this suspicion out of your mind.”

“I can’t. I think I’m suspected. People have changed toward me. I’ve noticed it about the town.”

“Gossips. They must have something to talk about. I found the button from her bedjacket, didn’t I?”

“Did you, Chantel?”

“Did I? What do you mean?”

“I wondered whether you were trying to save me.”

“Listen,” she said, “I’m sure it happened the way it did.”

“Did you really see her get out of bed to look at the cabinet?”

“I don’t think we should talk about it. People can do these things. I tell you I’ve seen it. And quite clearly it’s what she did.”

“Chantel,” I said, “I believe you’ve saved me from something … very unpleasant. Perhaps it might have been proved … Suppose I walked in my sleep …”

“What nonsense. You don’t walk in your sleep. You were half awake when you got out of bed. You were upset about her. I expect she had been particularly beastly that day. Listen to me, Anna. You’ve got to put the whole thing out of your mind. You’ve got to concentrate on pulling the business together. You’ve got to forget the past. It’s the only way to go on.”

“Oh Chantel, the best thing that has happened to me has been your coming here.”

“I’ve enjoyed the job,” she said. “You’ll be all right. You’d have stood up to them all if it had come to the court. I know you would. But you have to stop working yourself up about the whole thing. It’s over. Finished. You’ve got to start living now. Something wonderful might be happening in a few weeks’ time.”

“To me?”

“That’s the wrong attitude. Wonderful things can happen to us all. That’s how I’ve lived my life. When I’ve had the most horrid cases I’ve said to myself: It won’t last. Soon it’ll be over.”

“What should I do without you?” I asked.

“You don’t have to … yet.”

She was right when she said that nothing remained static. She came to me one day and told me that Dr. Elgin had a post for her. “You’ll never guess where. Castle Crediton.”

I felt stunned. First she was going to leave me and secondly she was going to the Castle.

“It’s good news,” she said. “I have to work for my living and just think we shan’t be far apart. I’ll be able to see you … frequently.”

“Castle Crediton,” I repeated. “Is someone ill there? Lady Crediton?”

“No, the old lady’s as strong as a horse. It’s Mrs. Stretton I’m going to nurse. The Captain’s wife.”

“Oh,” I said faintly.

“Yes, she’s delicate. Our climate I expect. Some lung infection. It wouldn’t surprise me if she is going into a decline. There’s a child, too. I couldn’t resist the job when Dr. Elgin suggested it.”

“When do you … start?”

“Next week.” She leaned over and taking my hand pressed it firmly. “I’ll be near at hand. We’ll see each other often. And don’t forget there are our journals. Have you written in yours recently?”

“I couldn’t, Chantel.”

“You must start at once. I’ll tell you all about Castle Crediton and the strange life of its inhabitants and you must tell me everything that happens here.”

“Oh Chantel,” I cried, “what should I do without you?”

“To repeat oneself is a sign of encroaching age, I’ve been told,” she said with a smile. “But I must say I found such repetition endearing. Don’t be morbid, Anna. You’re not alone. I’m your friend.”

I said: “Everything has changed so abruptly. I have to make plans. The business is rocky, Chantel. I shall have to see so many people — Aunt Charlotte’s lawyer and the bank manager, among others.”

“It’ll keep you busy. Write it all in your journal. I’ll do the same. We’ll make a pact, we’ll tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. And we’ll both have the comfort of knowing we are not alone. We can live our own lives and that of the other.” Her green eyes were enormous. “You must admit, Anna, that that is a very exciting state of affairs.”

“We must never lose sight of each other,” I said.

She nodded. “And we’ll exchange journals so that even when we can’t see each other as often as we’d like to, we shall know everything that is happening.”

“I shall know everything that is happening to you in Castle Crediton.”

“Everything,” she declared solemnly. “Anna, have you ever felt you would like to be a fly on the wall to hear and see everything and no one be aware of you there?”

“Who hasn’t?”

“Well, that’s how it is going to be. You’re the fly on my wall.” She laughed. How she lightened my spirits! And how I was going to miss her!


* * *

Ellen, married to Mr. Orfey, came back to say that he had no objection to her coming in in the mornings to give a hand; Mrs. Buckle continued to come in to dust and polish, but she left at four o’clock, and from then on I was alone in the Queen’s House.

It was when the shadows fell that I would find myself brooding on Aunt Charlotte’s death.

I would wake up suddenly from a dream in which I walked down to her room and took the pills from the bottle, to hear myself crying out: “No. No. I did not do it.” Then I would lie still listening to the clocks and it would seem as though they soothed me. It must have happened as Chantel said. There was no other explanation.

I should not brood on the past. Goodness knows the future was stark enough. How was I going to pay Aunt Charlotte’s debts? Many of the pieces which I believed were hers had not been paid for. She had spent far too much of her capital on the Chinese collection; during the last years the business had not been paying its way. Alarming as this was it gave credence to Chantel’s theory. Obsessed by ever-increasing pain, always impatient of inactivity, seeing her debts rising and eventual bankruptcy, she had forced herself — and I knew the extent of her will power — to get out of bed and seek oblivion.

I should have to make some decision. I could not allow things to drift. Indeed I should not be allowed to do so. I formed all sorts of plans. To advertise for a partner with money? To sell out and see what remained? Enforced sales often meant cut prices. If I realized enough to pay my debts I should be lucky. There would be nothing left but the house. I could sell that perhaps. That was the answer.

So my mind raced on during the sleepless nights and in the mornings when I looked at my face in the mirror I would murmur to myself: “Old Miss Brett.”

Chantel came and left her journal for me while she took mine away. She would return with it the next day.

That night I took it up to bed with me and the thought of reading it brought me out of my melancholy. My life was drab, and even frightening, but Chantel as before was my savior. To look in on what was happening at Castle Crediton would give me the respite I needed. Besides I would always be particularly interested in anything that happened in Redvers Stretton’s home.

I felt my spirits lighten a little as I lay back on my pillows and brought the oil lamp — which I had carried up from downstairs — nearer to my bed and started to read Chantel’s journal.