Douglas was dead, my own brother, I shouldn’t have felt like laughing, and yet I did. I asked her who the friend was who was such a joker and I remember what she answered. It’s odd how the name has stuck in my mind when I’ve forgotten so many other things. Jack Terola. “He is an artist with the camera,” Evelyn said. “He’s going to take pictures of me that will be shown all over the country. He’s going to make me immortal.” I felt the knife of envy twisting in my heart. I wanted to be immortal, too.
“I had to co-operate with the police,” Mr. Horner said. “I didn’t have any choice. It was a question of handing over the keys to your suite or having them taken from me.”
“I dislike the idea of anyone prying into my personal affairs.”
“Everyone acted in your best interests, Miss Clarvoe.”
“Indeed.”
“After all, anything might have happened.”
“What happened,” she said coldly, “is that I went into the country with a friend of mine.”
“Ah, yes. To see the lupine in bloom.”
“That’s correct.”
Mr. Horner turned away, his lip curling slightly. It was November. The lupine wouldn’t be in bloom for another three or four months.
He returned with the duplicate set of keys and laid them on the desk. “There are some messages for you, Miss Clarvoe. You are to call Mr. Blackshear immediately; he is at your mother’s house.”
“Thank you.”
“Oh yes, and someone asked me to put this note in your box. A young lady.”
The note was written in an ostentatious backhand on hotel stationery which had been folded twice:
I am waiting in the lobby. I must see you at once. Evelyn Merrick.
She wanted to run, but her legs ached with weariness, they would not carry her further. She’d already run too far, too fast, down too many strange and terrifying streets. She knew now that escape was impossible. Tomorrow, or the day after, or next week, behind some corner of time Evelyn Merrick would be waiting for her.
Chapter 16
She turned and saw Evelyn Merrick coming towards her across the lobby, picking her way fastidiously through the crowd. The day, which had changed Miss Clarvoe, had changed Evelyn too. She wasn’t smiling and self-assured as she’d been when they met on the street. She was a grim-faced, cold-eyed stranger, dressed all in black as if in mourning.
“I see you got my note.”
“Yes,” Miss Clarvoe said. “I have it.”
“We must have a talk.”
“Yes.” Yes, we must. I must find out how I lost the day, how the minutes passed overhead without touching me, like birds in a hurry. Wild-geese minutes. I remember Father took us hunting once, Evelyn and me. Father was angry with me that day because the sun gave me a headache. He said I was a spoil-sport and a cry-baby. He said, Why can’t you be more like Evelyn?
“Everyone’s been worried about you,” the stranger said, “Where have you been?”
“You know, you know very well. I was with you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We went into the country together — to see the lupine — we...”
The stranger’s voice was harsh and ugly. “You’ve always told fantastic lies, Helen, but this is going too far. I haven’t seen you for nearly a year.”
“You mustn’t try to deny it...”
“I’m not trying to deny it. I am denying it!”
“Please keep your voice down. People are staring. I can’t have people staring. I have a reputation, a name, to protect.”
“No one is paying the least attention to us.”
“Yes, they are. You see, my stockings are torn, and my coat. From the country. You have forgotten how we went into the country, you and I, to see the lupine. I tripped over a boulder and fell.” But her voice trailed upward into a question mark, and her eyes were uncertain and afraid. “You... you remember now?”
“There’s nothing to remember.”
“Nothing?”
“I haven’t seen you for nearly a year, Helen.”
“But this morning — this morning you met me outside the hotel. You asked me to have a drink with you, you said you were on your way over to see a man who would make you immortal and you wanted me to come along.”
“It doesn’t even make sense.”
“Yes, yes, it does! I even remember the man’s name. Terola. Jack Terola.”
Evelyn’s voice was quiet, insistent. “You went to see this man, Terola?”
“I don’t know. I think we — we both went, you and I. After all, I wouldn’t go to such a place alone, and besides Terola was your friend, not mine.”
“I never heard the name before in my life. Until I read the evening papers.”
“Papers?”
“Terola was murdered shortly before noon today,” Evelyn said. “It’s important for you to remember, Helen. Did you go there this morning?”
Miss Clarvoe said nothing, and her face was blank.
“Did you see Terola this morning, Helen?”
“I must... I must go upstairs.”
“We have to talk.”
“No. No. I must go upstairs and lock my door against all the ugliness.” She turned, slowly, and began walking towards the lift, her shoulders hunched, her hands jammed into the pockets of her coat as if she wanted to avoid all physical contact with other people.
She waited until one of the lifts was empty. Then she stepped inside and ordered the operator to close the door immediately. The operator, an old man, was no bigger than a child, as if the years he’d spent inside the tiny lift had stunted his growth. He was accustomed to Miss Clarvoe’s idiosyncrasies, such as riding alone in lifts, and he’d been well enough tipped, in the past, to indulge them.
He shut the door and as the lift began to ascend he kept his eyes on the floor indicator. “A wintry day, Miss Clarvoe.”
“I don’t know. I lost mine.”
“Beg pardon, ma’am?”
“I lost my day,” she said slowly. “I’ve looked everywhere for it, but I can’t find it.”
“Are you... are you feeling all right, Miss Clarvoe?”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Ma’am.”
“Call me Evelyn.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, say it. Go ahead. Say Evelyn.”
“Evelyn,” the old man said and began to tremble.
Back in her suite she locked the door and without even taking off her coat she went immediately to the telephone. As she dialed, she felt the excitement rising inside her like molten lava in a crater.
“Mrs. Clarvoe?”
“Is that — that’s you, Evelyn?”
“Certainly it’s me. I’ve done you another favor.”
“Please. Have mercy.”
“Don’t snivel. I hate that. I hate snivelers.”
“Evelyn...”
“I just wanted to tell you that I’ve found Helen for you. I have her all locked up in her hotel room, safe and sound.”
“Is she all right?”
“Don’t worry. I’m looking after her. I’m the only one who knows how to treat her. She’s been a bad girl, she needs a little discipline. She tells lies, you know, awful lies, so she must be taught a lesson or two like the others.”
“Let me talk to Helen.”
“Oh no. She can’t talk right now. It isn’t her turn. We have to take turns, you know. It’s very inconvenient, because Helen won’t voluntarily give me my turn, so I just have to go ahead and take it. She was feeling weak from the accident, and her head hurt, so I simply took over. I feel fine. I’m never sick. I leave that to her. All the sordid things like being sick or getting old, I leave to her. I’m only twenty-one, that old crock is over thirty...”