At Death's Door Read Free Page B

was almost a beauty.
    â€œI’m afraid I’m making use of Roderick and Caroline,” said Cordelia, speaking tantalizingly slowly in her musical voice. “They have information, papers, that I need. . . . I’m writing a book about my mother.”
    â€œAbout your mother?”
    Pat put him out of his misery.
    â€œCordelia’s mother is Myra Mason, the actress.”
    The commodore’s social manner slipped slightly. His mouth fell open. Daisy Critchley, Caroline thought, had guessed already. Now she took over, her hard social manner substituting for his well-lubricated one.
    â€œI think Fergus was away at sea when—when there was all the talk in the papers. You don’t mind my mentioning it, do you, my dear?”
    â€œNot at all. Of course not.” Caroline noticed, though, that she was fiddling with her handkerchief. Cordelia, in fact, was never still.
    â€œOf course there is a bit of talk in the village, about the past,” Daisy Critchley went on. “But Roderick’s father isnot really a personality to the locals. Not many of them read his kind of books. And almost since he moved here he’s been . . . unwell.”
    â€œThat’s right,” said Roderick, who had finished getting or refreshing everyone’s drinks and now sat down. “It was to be his retirement home—back in England and near us. But his mind started going almost at once, and he simply couldn’t cope. We moved in here to look after him. He’s never been close to my sister—my other sister.”
    The commodore, his avuncularity restored, leaned forward and tapped Cordelia on the knee.
    â€œI’ll say this, young lady: You’re the daughter of a damn fine actress. Saw her”—he looked at Daisy—“when was it? Five, maybe six years ago, at Chichester, in Private Lives. Never forgotten it. Or was it Blithe Spirit ?”
    â€œOh, that was Private Lives ,” said Cordelia with enthusiasm. “It must have been eight years ago, actually. She was quite marvelous in that. All sorts of undercurrents, so you realized the play is really a forerunner of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? I was at Kent University at the time. I went over with a group from the English Department. We were talking about it all the way home. Not often that happens with Noel Coward.”
    â€œWe saw her in Lear ,” said Caroline. “It was rather different there. She was fearsome: it was as if she were determined not to allow this appalling monster any shred of humanity.”
    â€œYes. I remember she said that was the only way she could play her. She said the women’s parts were all black and white in that play and that was how they had to be done. She certainly couldn’t play Cordelia, and in fact she’s never done Lear again.”
    The commodore was beginning to get uneasy with the literary talk.
    â€œWell, you’ve certainly got an interesting task on your hands, my dear,” he said. “It’s to be a biography, is it?”
    â€œSort of portrait,” said Cordelia.
    â€œAnd you’ll be here for some time, will you?” Almost automatically he ogled her. Daisy Critchley, almost as automatically, stiffened.
    â€œI’m not sure.” Cordelia, still nervously working at her handkerchief, turned with a smile to Roderick and Caroline. “I don’t want to be a nuisance. It will depend on how much material there is.”
    â€œYou must stay as long as you want to or need to,” said Roderick.
    â€œI fear you won’t get much out of—” The commodore, unusually brutal, jerked his head at the ceiling.
    â€œMy father? No, I quite understand the situation.”
    â€œWell,” said the commodore, patting his wife on the thigh, “time we were making a move. We’ll hope to see more of you, young lady, if you’re going to be here for a bit.”
    â€œYes, you must