Friends till the End (15 page)

“That’s a shame, you know, because he had such a kindly personality before all this happened. Has that detective been around to see you again?”

“No. He was here right after Daddy went into the hospital, but I haven’t seen him since. I don’t know what the police are doing.”

“It’s a strange business, Isabel.”

“Yes.”

They were silent for a moment. Then Isabel said, “How about a drive in the country this weekend? I’m not doing anything on Saturday.”

“A drive? You mean, just the two of us?”

“Yes, of course just the two of us. What did you think?”

“I thought,” said Snooky, “that I was never going to get to see you except in the company of your father’s friends.”

Freda Simms was seated on the couch in what she liked to call her “living area,” a huge room with a marble fireplace, a spiral staircase leading up to the second floor and elegant Persian rugs everywhere. There was a bay window with a magnificent view of the lawn and trees beyond. The garden was in full bloom and she stared at it absently, nursing the drink at her side.

Some of the shrubs had been clipped into the most ridiculous shapes,
really
 … unicorns and gargoyles and over there was one that looked just like a donkey … she’d have to talk to the gardener, Mr. Hal, about it. His name was Harold Shrimpton, Hal for short, but for some reason he insisted on being called Mr. Hal, like a hairdresser. She humored him. He was a very good gardener, except when his fancies got away with him.…

She tore her gaze away from the ill-fated shrubbery and tried to concentrate. Yes, now, where was she? Something had been bothering her for a while now, and she had finally decided to sit down and think it through. Although
it wasn’t really something that could be thought about or chewed over … it was a memory … a fleeting memory, obscured by alcohol and heightened hormones. She had seen something at the first party, the one at the Sloanes’ house.

She sighed impatiently and shook her head. Now
what
in the world was it? It was about an hour or so before the end of the party. She had been sitting down (as she consumed more and more liquid refreshment, it became harder to stay vertical) and smiling at what’s-his-name, Eddie, as he leaned over her. He had said something amusing, or at least at the time she had thought it was amusing. She was laughing and her eyes strayed over his shoulder.

And she had seen something …

She screwed up her face into a comical frown and sipped her drink. Something had been bothering her, moving restlessly and fretfully at the edge of her consciousness, since then. What was it?

Outside the big bay window Mr. Hal moved slowly into view, carrying a huge pair of hedge clippers. He began to snip at a previously unmolested bush. He snipped and snipped and snipped, stepping back now and then to see how his handicraft was proceeding.

When he was done, he regarded his work with quiet satisfaction. The hedge, formerly a dull boxlike shape, now resembled one of the Great Pyramids of Egypt. Its four triangular sides were as smooth as stone.

Mr. Hal smiled to himself. Behind him, in the house, Freda watched without the internal comment so often provoked by Mr. Hal’s artistic efforts. She did not see the new pyramid in her garden. Her eyes blindly looked inward, backward in time …

Now what
was
it she had seen?

Bernard stared suspiciously at the little boy a few feet away.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Linus.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know,” the boy said truthfully.

Maya entered the study, followed by Heather Crandall. “Bernard, this is Mrs. Crandall and her son Linus. I invited them over to meet you.”

“Oh, Mr. Woodruff, this is such a great pleasure,” enthused Heather. “I brought over some cookies for you and your wife—I hope you don’t mind—and here are Linus’s Mrs. Woolly books. You see how much he likes them.”

Bernard glanced down at the dog-eared, much-abused copies of his books.

“I suppose you’d like me to sign them,” he said dully.

“Well, yes, if it’s not too much trouble. See, Linus, this is what a famous author looks like!”

Linus was not impressed. He was kneeling on the floor, trying to get Misty to wake up.

Bernard scratched his name hastily, with
To Linus,
in each of the books and gave them back.

“Thanks so much,” said Heather.

“You’re welcome. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m working …”

“Heather and I are going into the kitchen,” Maya interposed. “Linus can stay here with you for a while. It’ll be good for him to see what a famous author looks like while he’s working.”

Before Bernard could protest, the two women were gone. He was alone in the room with Linus.

A stark terror filled him. It was not so much that he hated children, as he often claimed; it was that they frightened him. He did not know what to say or do. He was silent enough around adults; with children he was positively tongue-tied.

In the kitchen, Heather said, “Are you sure it’s all right if Linus stays in there with him? Perhaps your husband would like to work.”

“Oh, no, it’s good for Bernard. He writes for children, but so rarely gets to actually meet any.”

“Linus really enjoys his books.”

“Well, that’s good to hear. You mustn’t mind his manner, Mrs. Crandall. Bernard can be a little brusque sometimes. He doesn’t mean anything by it.”

Snooky came in and, after saying hello to Heather, turned to his sister and sank onto his knees.

“Are you asking me to marry you?” said Maya.

“Please, Maya.” He took her hand. “I have something important—very important—to ask you. I am hoping that the presence of Mrs. Crandall will make you think twice before saying no.”

“Go ahead.”

“Can I have the car on Saturday?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Pretty please?”

“No.”

“Okay. Thanks anyway.” Snooky rose to his feet and opened the refrigerator door. “What’s there to eat?”

“Don’t eat now. It’s almost dinnertime. You’ll ruin your appetite.”

“I could never ruin
my
appetite, Maya. Put a crimp in it, maybe, but never any lasting damage.”

“You’re taking this awfully well, Snooks. What’s the hidden agenda?”

“I simply don’t consider your refusal as definite. I intend to try again later, repeatedly, until you change your mind, as you inevitably will, worn down in the face of my determination and charm.”

“Good plan,” said Maya.

“Thanks.”

“Can I ask what’s going on Saturday?”

“I’m taking Isabel out for a drive in the country.”

“I see.”

“Hard to do without a car, Maya.”

“Yes.”

Snooky closed the fridge door and wandered out of the kitchen. Heather said, “Your brother doesn’t have a car?”

“My brother rents everything: houses, cars, everything. He has one ironclad rule: he never buys anything he can rent, and he never rents anything he can borrow. This has seen him through life so far.”

“I was worried when Little Harry got his learner’s permit,” said Heather. “I was afraid there would be arguments over the car. But he so rarely drives it. He prefers to jog.”

Back in the study, there had been a long, long silence. Linus played with Misty’s ears while the dog slept, and Bernard stared mournfully at a picture on the far wall.

Finally Linus said:

“We have a dog.”

“How nice for you.”

Linus could not hear the sarcasm. “His name is Mahler.”

“Mahler?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

That seemed to be the end of the conversation. Linus got up and came over to lean in a familiar way on Bernard’s knee.

“Are you working yet?” he asked, looking up into his face.

“No. Not yet.”

“Will you be working soon?”

“I don’t know. It all depends.”

“On what?”

ON HOW SOON I CAN BE ALONE! screamed Bernard’s mind. But all he said was:

“It’s hard to work. I don’t do very much of it.”

Linus nodded. His mind seemed to be elsewhere. He said:

“What’s your dog’s name?”

“Misty.”

“Misty,” said Linus thoughtfully. He said:

“My dog is bigger than your dog.”

Bernard’s hackles rose at this. How right he was never to trust a child.

“Misty is a fine-looking dog,” he said defensively. “Just the right size, if you ask me.”

“I don’t know,” said Linus, surveying her critically. “She has funny-looking ears.”

“What’s wrong with her ears?”

“They’re all sort of floppy and everything.”

“That’s because she’s sleeping. When she’s awake they stand up.”

Linus looked doubtful. “When she’s awake they stand up?”

“Yes. Just like your ears. See? When you’re awake they’re like this, and when you’re asleep they fold down and go all floppy. Like Misty’s ears.”

“They do not.”

“Oh, yes they do.”

Linus clapped his hands over his ears. “They do not!”

“They go all floppy, and collapse on your pillow,” said Bernard.

Linus stared at him, his eyes wide in horror.

“They do not!”

“Yes, they do.”

“Like Misty’s?”

“
Worse
than Misty’s.”

There was a long, lingering, trembling pause. Then:

“
MOMMY!
” shrieked Linus and ran from the room. Bernard could hear him screaming all the way down the hall.

Bernard sat back slowly in his chair. Misty woke up,
scratched herself, yawned and came to rub her head against his leg.

He scratched her ears, which were floppy asleep and floppy awake. She rubbed her head and yawned in deep satisfaction.

Bernard smiled.

“I’ve never been so humiliated in my life,” fretted Maya as Heather’s car pulled rapidly out of the driveway. “Never! Honestly, Bernard, I leave the boy with you for two minutes, and the next thing I know he’s in the kitchen screaming and sobbing and babbling something idiotic about his ears. I thought his mother was going to hit me.”

“Children are naturally gullible.”

“Children are your livelihood, and you’d better remember it. Why doesn’t your publisher send you on a book tour, and you can terrify children all over the country?”

“I don’t want to go on a book tour. I just want to be left in peace.”

Maya sighed in exasperation. “Fine. In that case, I’ll leave you in peace. That’s the last time I ever invite any fans over to meet you.”

“That’s too bad,” said Bernard to her retreating back.

“Oh, Snooky,” Isabel said, “this is really beautiful.”

She was gazing out the car window as the countryside flashed past. Snooky had headed due west, crossing from Connecticut into New York, then south on the Taconic State Parkway. After a short drive he had gotten off the parkway and now he turned onto a long narrow bridge over a reservoir. On either side of the car the water stretched out in a smooth shining circle hemmed in by lush green forest. There was no one else to be seen.

“Yes, isn’t it nice?” he said. “It’d better be. I don’t remember exactly what it was I had to promise Maya for this car, but it had something to do with my share of the estate.”

“It’s breathtaking. I had no idea it was so beautiful here. Oh, Snooky, look—more birds!”

Flocks of them were whirling and weaving in the dark-blue summer sky. The combination of the bright water below and the shimmering sky above made Isabel close her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, they had left the reservoir behind and were following a narrow curving path through the forest.

“Here we are,” said Snooky a quarter of an hour later. He pulled into the entrance of the state park. They followed the road for half a mile until a lake opened up on one side, ringed by picnic benches. Snooky and Isabel got out of the car and stretched their legs. To their right was a small sign marked
NATURE TRAIL
, with an arrow indicating a dirt path that disappeared into the trees by the water’s edge.

“First things first,” said Snooky. “Let’s eat.”

Isabel had brought a large picnic hamper containing chicken sandwiches, tuna salad, green and black olives, rye bread, Port Salut cheese, coffee in a bright yellow thermos and a big chocolate cake covered with thick frosting and chocolate curls. Snooky had brought along a paper
bag containing two apples and a handful of discouraged looking French fries.

“That’s it?” she said, surveying his contribution.

“I’m sorry. It was all I could steal from the fridge. Maya was cooking dinner and she was already pretty mad about the car.”

They sat down at the picnic table and ate the sandwiches. Then they took a blanket from the trunk of the car, spread it on the grass by the lake, and lay down in the sun. Snooky was busy cramming a large piece of chocolate cake into his mouth. A growing number of flies and water-insects buzzed around his head.

“How’s Richard?” he asked indistinctly.

“Richard? Oh, he’s difficult. Very difficult. He roars around in his car all day and takes out girls at night. I’m worried about him.”

“Oh, yes. A teenage boy driving around, seeing lots of girls. That
is
cause for alarm.”