the room, her step heavy, her shoulders stooped, as if she were carrying the weight of the tombÂstone on her back.
2
Perhaps, at this hour that is very late for me, I should not step back into your lifeâ¦.
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Daisy didnât watch the car leave, so she had no way of knowing that Jim had stopped off at Mrs. Fieldingâs cottage. The first susÂpicion occurred to her when her mother, who was constantly and acutely aware of time, appeared at the back door half an hour before she was due. She had Prince, the collie, with her on a leash. When the leash was removed, Prince bounced around the kitchen as if heâd just been released after a year or two in leg-irons.
Since Mrs. Fielding lived alone, it was considered good policy for her to keep Prince, a zealous and indefatigable barker, at her cottage every night for protection. Because of this talent for barkÂing, he enjoyed the reputation of being an excellent watchdog. The fact was, Princeâs talent was spread pretty thin; he barked with as much enthusiasm at acorns falling on the roof as he would have at intruders bursting in the door. Although Prince had never been put to a proper test so far, the general feeling was that he would come through when the appropriate time arrived, and protect his people and property with ferocious loyalty.
Daisy greeted the dog affectionately, because she wanted to and because he expected it. The two women saw each other too freÂquently to make any fuss over good-mornings.
âYouâre early,â Daisy said.
âAm I?â
âYou know you are.â
âAh well,â Mrs. Fielding said lightly, âitâs time I stopped living by the clock. And it was such a lovely morning, and I heard on the radio that thereâs a storm coming, and I didnât want to waste the sun while it lastedââ
âMother, stop that.â
âStop what, for goodnessâ sake?â
âJim came over to see you, didnât he?â
âFor a moment, yes.â
âWhat did he tell you?â
âOh, nothing much, actually.â
âThatâs no answer,â Daisy said. âI wish the two of you would stop treating me like an idiot child.â
âWell, Jim made some remark about your needing a tonic, perÂhaps, for your nerves. Oh, not that I think your nerves are bad or anything, but a tonic certainly wouldnât do any harm, would it?â
âI donât know.â
âIâll phone that nice new doctor at the clinic and ask him to prescribe something loaded with vitamins and minerals and whatÂever. Or perhaps protein would be better.â
âI donât want any protein, vitamins, minerals, or anything else.â
âWeâre just a mite irritable this morning, arenât we?â Mrs. Fielding said with a cool little smile. âMind if I have some coffee?â
âGo ahead.â
âWould you like some?â
âNo.â
âNo, thanks , if you donât mind. Private problems donât constiÂtute an excuse for bad manners.â She poured some coffee from the electric percolator. âI take it there are private problems?â
âJim told you everything, I suppose?â
âHe mentioned something about a silly little dream you had which upset you. Poor Jim was very upset himself. Perhaps you shouldnât worry him with trivial things. Heâs terribly wrapped up in you, Daisy.â
âWrapped up.â The words didnât conjure up the picture they were intended to. All Daisy could see was a double mummy, two people long dead, wrapped together in a winding sheet. Death again. No matter which direction her mind turned, death was around the corner or the next bend in the road, like a shadow that always walked in front of her. âIt wasnât,â Daisy said, âa silly little dream. It was very real and very important.â
âIt may seem so to you now while youâre