Patricia Wentworth - Pilgrim’s Rest

“I should like to go up and see Jerome. He doesn’t sleep in the afternoon, does he?”

Judy said, “I don’t know.” And then, “You know so much more about them all than I do. Frank said I could talk to you if I needed anyone to talk to-”

She hadn’t meant to say any of this. It was as if something had run away with her.

Lesley Freyne said, “And do you?”

Judy’s colour rose.

“I think I do. It’s all-I don’t know what Frank told you, but he didn’t want me to come down here.”

“No-I can understand that.”

Judy faced her resolutely. It was quite horribly difficult to say, but she meant to get it said.

“It doesn’t matter about me. It’s Penny-is there any real reason why Penny shouldn’t be here?”

Heaviness closed down over Lesley’s face. Her words came heavily too.

“I-don’t-know-”

Judy made herself go on.

“Do you mind if I ask you something? I mustn’t take any risks about Penny. She has taken a very great fancy to Captain Pilgrim. She goes in every morning when I’m doing the rooms round there. They talk, and he tells her stories.”

Lesley Freyne’s face had lighted up.

“How very good for him!”

“That’s what I thought. But Miss Day wants me to stop Penny going in. She says it’s too exciting for him, and he mustn’t be excited. She says the stories he tells Penny might set him off wanting to write again. It sounds nonsense to me. I mean I think it would be a very good thing if he did start doing anything that would take him out of himself.”

Lesley’s face was grave and controlled as she said,

“It isn’t easy to go against the nurse who is responsible for a case.”

Fear pricked Judy on.

“Miss Freyne, will you tell me the truth? About Penny- Miss Day said, ‘Don’t leave her alone with him.’ I want to know why she said that. I want to know if there’s any reason. Please, please, won’t you tell me?”

The strong, deep colour came up under Lesley Freyne’s brown skin. She set her jaw and kept her mouth shut for a full half minute before she said,

“Jerome would never hurt a child.”

Reassurance and comfort flowed in on Judy. She cried out,

“That’s what I feel-but I wanted to hear you say it. He wouldn’t-would he?”

Lesley said, “No.” And then, “I don’t know what is going on here. There’s something. There was that ceiling, and the burnt-out room, and there have been other things as well. I don’t think it’s a house for a child, Judy. That’s one of the things I came here to say if you gave me an opportunity. Frank’s Miss Silver is down here, isn’t she-perhaps I shall see her before I go. He believes she may be able to clear things up. I only hope he is right. But meanwhile why not let Penny come to me on a visit? We could say that it was to give you a chance of settling down and catching up with some of the work.” She smiled suddenly and delightfully. “And it would all be perfectly true, because I expect everything is simply inches deep in dust since Ivy went. Gloria isn’t a bad child, but she couldn’t begin to get through with the work on her own. Now, what do you say?”

Judy didn’t know what to say. She had never liked anyone better on a short acquaintance, but it was too sudden-too soon.

Perhaps Lesley saw all this in her face, for she said very kindly,

“You’d like to think it over, wouldn’t you? Don’t feel you’ve got to give an answer at all. Bring her round about half past nine for the morning’s play, and I’ll send her back in time for lunch. Then you’ll see how she likes it, and if you want her to come on a visit you need only bring her along. And now I’ll go up and see Jerome.”

Jerome Pilgrim was in his chair with a writing-pad on his knee and a pencil in his hand. He looked up with so much pleasure when Judy said, “Miss Freyne is here to see you,” that she went away wondering why he should not have this pleasure more often. That the occasions for it were few and far between seemed clear from his words as Lesley came in.

“I thought you had forgotten me. It’s weeks since you’ve been in.”

Miss Freyne stayed to tea, and brought Jerome down with her. It was very evident that the whole family liked her. Roger’s moody brow smoothed out as he greeted her with a “Hullo, Lesley!” Miss Janetta and Miss Columba kissed her with affection. She was introduced to Miss Silver, and created the best possible impression by saying presently that she had always admired Tennyson and felt sure that he would some day come back into his own. After which the tea-party became pleasant and cosy to the last degree. Penny behaved as every fond relation hopes its child will behave when strangers are present. She ate tidily and perseveringly, managed her cup with elegance, and only spoke when spoken to.

Lona Day, coming in when tea was nearly over, expressed her own pleasure at the comfortable scene.

“It is turning so cold outside. I’ve been thinking of this warm room and a nice hot cup of tea for the last half hour.” As she slipped into a chair by Judy, who had made room for her, she went on in a lowered voice, “How nice that Miss Freyne was able to come in. I was worried about Captain Pilgrim being alone, but if she was with him he wouldn’t be dull. Only he must go upstairs and rest between tea and supper, or he won’t sleep tonight. He loves to see his friends, but I’m afraid he pays for it afterwards.”

She threw him a troubled glance. Then, with a sudden bright smile, she began to talk about her shopping. Judy thought she looked tired and strained. She wondered, and not for the first time, whether a nurse staying on year after year with a private patient didn’t become overanxious, overconcentrated. She thought Miss Day might be the better of a change, and so might Captain Pilgrim.

Judy was a long time getting to sleep that night. There were all sorts of things in her mind, walking up and down there, talking in whispers, talking aloud, arguing with each other, and coming to no conclusion at all. She became so much provoked by them that she arrived at the point of wishing with all her heart that she had taken Frank Abbotf’s advice. She found this so humiliating that it produced a reaction upon whose tide she presently drifted into sleep.

It seemed like only a moment, but actually it must have been nearly two hours later when she waked up to a dreadful clamour of sound. She had never heard a man’s scream before, but she heard it now as she tumbled out of bed and ran to the door. The corridor was in darkness. The scream had died on the shaken air, but there was a dreadful groaning broken by sharp cries.

She ran as she was, in her night-gown, to the switch that controlled the passage light, feeling her way along the wall. As the light came on, a door opened behind her and Miss Silver emerged in a crimson flannel dressing-gown adorned with hand-made crochet and tied about her waist with a woolly cord, her hair neat and unruffled, her expression interested but calm. Judy was so glad to see her that she could have cried. She said,

“What is it? What’s happening?”

And with that Jerome Pilgrim’s door was flung violently open, and in the same moment the dreadful groaning stopped. Jerome stood on the threshold, his pyjama coat torn open, his hands groping until they caught the door-posts. As he stood there, breathing like a man who has run up hill and staring at the light with wild unseeing eyes, Miss Silver put a hand on Judy’s arm.

“Go back and put on your dressing-gown, my dear, and stay with Penny. I will come back.”

For the life of her Judy could get no farther than the door of her room. Penny hadn’t moved-thank God for that. She stood there and watched Jerome Pilgrim and Miss Silver’s brisk advance. But before she could reach him Lona Day came out of the room opposite. She was in a dressing-gown too, her auburn hair loose about her neck, but she was very much the nurse as she laid a hand upon his arm and said,