Kitty Neale 3 Book Bundle. Kitty Neale

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       Chapter Four

      When Phyllis had come round after fainting, she’d felt disoriented and bleary eyed. What had happened? Her head had been throbbing and she wondered if she’d hit it on something. After struggling to sit up another wave of dizziness had swept over her. She’d remained still until it passed, and then had managed to heave herself onto a chair. It was the first time in her life that Phyllis had fainted, so the feeling of nausea was unexpected. She’d fought the urge to be sick, swallowing bile as she shivered in shock. It had been a surprise to find that only minutes had passed, but why had she fainted? She wasn’t ill. She was just tired, that was all, and at last, giving in, Phyllis had gone upstairs to lie down.

      It was now three hours later and Phyllis woke up feeling a lot better. It must have been exhaustion; that, or the fact that she wasn’t eating properly. Yet they had survived on a lot less to eat during the war. Despite that thought, Phyllis knew that she had lost weight, her arms thin and her ribs showing when she undressed. She hid it well, wearing an extra jumper with a thick cardigan most of the time, and so far nobody had noticed. Anyway, she’d never been fat, so that couldn’t be the reason for her lack of energy.

      Phyllis changed her rumpled clothes and applied a little lipstick to give her face a bit of colour, but as she hadn’t done her washing, no doubt when Mabel turned up again in about half an hour she’d know that something was up.

      For now though, Phyllis was worried about Winnie. She hadn’t been to check on her since early that morning and now she hurried next door, pleased to see that the old lady was all right. Winnie’s living room was as gloomy as her own, Phyllis thought, with ancient wallpaper and dull, dark furniture. She should polish it, Phyllis thought guiltily, make things look a bit more cheerful for Winnie, but with two cleaning jobs and her own housework to do, she just didn’t have the energy. Managing a smile she said, ‘Sorry, love, I’m a bit behind today and you must be dying for a drink.’

      ‘I’ve been dozing on and off all morning, but yes, I must admit I’m thirsty,’ Winnie admitted.

      ‘I’ll make you a cuppa,’ Phyllis offered and soon Winnie was sipping it with pleasure.

      However her expression suddenly became sombre and she said, ‘Phyllis, I know my Harry passed away, but sometimes I think I can hear him speaking to me. You’ll probably think I’m mad, but somehow I think I’ll be joining him soon.’

      ‘Oh, don’t say that, Winnie.’

      ‘Now don’t get upset. I’ve had a good innings and I’m ready to go.’

      ‘All you’re probably hearing is our voices through the thin walls. On the other hand you may be coming down with something, so I’ll get the doctor in to take a look at you.’

      ‘There’s no need,’ Winnie protested. ‘I’m fine, as well as I can be, and I don’t know why people are so afraid to talk about death. We’ve all got to go sometime, and I just think that my number’s coming up, that’s all.’

      ‘You’ve got years in you,’ Phyllis protested, ‘and I’m not going to listen to any more of this. Now I’ll pour you another cup of tea and then I’ll be back later with your dinner. If you need me before that, thump on the wall as usual.’

      ‘I’ll do that, and thanks. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

      Phyllis managed a small smile, yet she was unable to help noticing how frail Winnie looked. She still managed to use the commode unassisted, but going upstairs to bed proved impossible and now Winnie slept in a single one that had been pushed up against their adjoining wall in the living room.

      With a heavy heart, Phyllis returned home where moments later Mabel turned up, saying as she came in, ‘I could do with a cuppa so put the kettle on, mate.’

      ‘It wouldn’t suit me,’ Phyllis said, ‘but as I always seem to be making pots of tea maybe I should open a café.’

      ‘Very funny, but why didn’t you put your washing out to dry? There’s no sign of rain.’

      ‘I didn’t do it.’

      ‘I knew you weren’t up to it, but you insisted you were all right,’ Mabel admonished.

      ‘Yeah, well, as you saw I was worn out and when you left I sort of passed out for a minute or two.’

      ‘You did what!’

      ‘It was nothing,’ Phyllis said quickly. ‘Once I’d had a bit of a kip I was fine, but you could have knocked me down with a feather when I realised I’d slept for over three hours.’

      ‘You must have needed it, and it looks like it’s done you a lot of good. You look heaps better.’

      Phyllis refrained from saying that though she was only forty, she felt twenty years older than that as she filled the kettle.

      ‘Leave that, I’ll do it,’ Mabel said. ‘You sit yourself down.’

      ‘You just said I look heaps better.’

      ‘Yeah, you do, but I ain’t fooled by that lipstick. You’re still a bit pale.’

      Phyllis didn’t argue and as she prepared the drinks, Mabel continued to chat. ‘Daphne Cole got her washing done. I looked out of my bedroom window over to her yard and saw her sheets and towels were gleaming white when she hung them out, but of course she’s better off than us with that boiler thing she’s got. I still think she should sort her daughter out though. If she doesn’t, mark my words, Carol will come to no good.’

      Phyllis ignored the comment, only saying, ‘At least we don’t have to spend time grating our soap now. I think this new washing powder that’s come out is marvellous.’

      ‘Yeah, it is, but I must tell you what I heard this morning.’

      Phyllis was used to this. Mabel thrived on gossip, but Phyllis knew why and understood. It was something that kept Mabel’s mind occupied; a tool she used to shut out the grief that still tortured her. She and Jack had lost their only child, a little boy, to measles when he was only three years old. They hadn’t had any more children, and though no reason could be found, it was as though something in Mabel had died too.

      Phyllis had always wanted another child too, but though trying, Amy had remained the only one. At least she had her daughter, while poor Mabel had been left childless. Few remained on Lark Rise who remembered what Mabel had been through, or if they did, any sympathy they had once felt had long been forgotten.

      With a sigh, Phyllis just wished Mabel would find something else to do with her time, something that could be meaningful, but after all these years she’d run out of suggestions. ‘All right, Mabel, as you’re keen to tell me, what have you heard?’

      ‘That cousin of yours, Rose, has got her eye on someone.’

      Phyllis’s СКАЧАТЬ