The Fiend Read Free Page B

when Ellen preferred to work undisturbed and without someone reminding her she was driving herself too hard. Virginia had no children, and her husband, Howard, was away on business a great deal; she had a part- time gardener and a cleaning woman twice a week, and to open a can or the garage doors or the car windows, all she had to do was press a button. Ellen didn’t envy her neighbors. She knew that if their positions were reversed, she would be doing just as much as she did now and Virginia would be doing as little.
    Virginia lingered on, in spite of the sun which she hated and usually managed to avoid. Even five minutes of it made her nose turn pink and her neck break out in a rash. “I have an idea. Why don’t I slip downtown and buy Jessie a couple of games?—you know, something absorbing that will keep her quiet.”
    â€œI thought Howard was home today.”
    â€œHe is, but he’s still asleep. I could be back by the time he wakes up.”
    â€œI appreciate your offer, naturally,” Ellen said, “but you’ve already bought Jessie so many toys and books and games—”
    â€œThat won’t spoil her. I was reading in a magazine just this morning that buying things for children doesn’t spoil them un­less those things are a substitute for something else.”
    Ellen had read the same magazine. “Love.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œJessie gets plenty of love.”
    â€œI know. That’s my whole point. If she’s already loved, the little items I buy her can’t harm her.”
    Ellen hesitated. Some of the items hadn’t been so little—a ten-gear Italian bicycle, a cashmere sweater, a wrist watch—but she didn’t want to seem ungrateful. “All right, go ahead if you like. But please don’t spend too much money. Jessie might get the idea that she deserves an expensive gift every time some­thing happens to her. Life doesn’t work out that way.”
    There was a minute of strained silence between the two women, like the kind that comes after a quarrel over an im­portant issue. It bothered Ellen. There had been no quarrel, not even a real disagreement, and the issue was hardly im­portant, a two-dollar game for Jessie.
    Virginia said softly, “I haven’t offended you, have I, El? I mean, maybe you think I was implying that Jessie didn’t have enough toys and things.” Virginia’s pale blue eyes were anxious and the tip of her nose was already starting to turn red. “I’d feel terrible if you thought that.”
    â€œWell, I don’t.”
    â€œYou’re absolutely sure?”
    â€œDon’t go on about it, Virginia. You want to buy Jess a game, so buy it.”
    â€œWe could pretend it was from you and Dave.”
    â€œI don’t believe in pretending to my children. They’re sub­jected to enough phoniness in the ordinary course of events.”
    From one of the back windows of the Arlington house a man’s voice shouted, “Virgie! Virgie!”
    â€œHoward’s awake,” Virginia said hastily. “I’ll go and make his breakfast and maybe slip downtown while he’s eating. Tell Jessie I’ll be over later on.”
    â€œAll right.”
    Virginia walked across the lawn and down her own driveway. It was bordered on each side with a low privet hedge and small round clumps of French marigolds. Everything in the yard, as in the house, was so neat and orderly that Virginia felt none of it belonged to her. The house was Howard’s and the cleaning woman’s, and the yard was the gardener’s. Virginia was a guest and she had to act like a guest, polite and uncritical.
    Only the dog, a large golden retriever named Chap, was Virginia’s. She had wanted a small dog, one she could cuddle and hold on her lap, and when Howard brought Chap home from one of his trips she had felt cheated. Chap was already full-grown then and weighed ninety