Brian Aldiss - Comfort Zone

Justin knew Wendy was talking too much. Part of the moving-in-on-him business. He showed his embarrassment by staring fixedly at the floor, hands clasped. The professor nodded. ‘Well, good to see you both, and keep taking the warfarin regularly, Mr Haydock. The secretary will give you a date for your next blood test.’ He filled in the requisite form and handed it to Justin.

In the car on the way home, Justin said, ‘I can’t believe how much blood they have extracted from me over the last month.’

‘They only take a tiny amount, love,’ Wendy said, patting his knee. He reflected that his knee was among his most valuable possessions.

Wendy stopped the car by Justin’s front door. He turned his face to hers and they kissed before he climbed out. He would have been embarrassed not to do so, knowing she expected it. Leaving and entering cars were major difficulties. He had little control over his legs, particularly with regard to lifting them. The birds sang under the street lamps. He found the front door unlocked. Either his mind must be going or Maude had returned. He was glad to be back in No. 29. The builders were not there. The house was quiet but oddly unwelcoming.

‘Anyone there?’ he asked. He thought there was someone in the front room. He went to look. No one was present, but he remained disturbed.

‘You’re there, are you?’ came Maude’s voice.

‘Maude? Hello? Like a cup of tea or a coffee?’ A prolonged silence. Then came her voice. ‘Tea, please.’

In the kitchen, Justin brewed two cups of tea. The tea bag was one of Marks & Spencer’s extra-strong teas. He carried the tea into the living room, placing his Carlisle mug on a mat before sitting down in his favourite armchair and calling Maude. But had someone just looked through the doorway and then swiftly withdrawn his head? He got up and went to look in the hall. No one was there. He could hear nothing. ‘Old age,’ he told himself. ‘Going bloody daft.’ He scanned the printout Professor Fellows had given him in the consulting room. His INR was 1.4. He was to take 3 mg of warfarin every evening at six. He immediately fell into sleep; it was indeed a steep fall. He became asleep without warning. When he roused, his tea was barely lukewarm. He had the impression that someone or something had been standing over him. He dismissed the idea. Justin sat where he was, leaning back, relishing his lethargy, missing Kate.

‘You’re awake at last!’ He was startled. Maude was sitting by the door.

‘How long was I asleep?’ he asked.

‘Justin, I must tell you something.’ She spoke in a low grave voice. ‘I resolved to tell no one, but someone ought to know, in case a crime has been committed.’

He stared at her. She was certainly pale and worried. When he asked her what the matter was, again she paused. ‘Let me get you another cup of tea – that one’s stone cold.’

‘No thanks, Maude. What’s up?’

Then she spoke. She had gone round to the summerhouse for her lesson in Muslim ethics as usual. She admitted for the first time that these sessions were held in the Fitzgeralds’ summerhouse, where the Fitzgeralds had given shelter to a refugee. ‘She was not there. Of course I was surprised. There was a note on her side table.’ Maude fiddled in her jacket pocket, to produce a sheet of lined paper, possibly torn from a notebook. Without speaking, she handed it over to Justin. The note simply read:

I must leave here. Thank you. Blessings.

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