She watched. Mrs Sidney’s mouth worked, and the scarlet line of lipstick above her top lip contorted independently of the mouth, so that her face seemed to be slipping in and out of some grotesque and ludicrous mask. The woman lurched forward; her hands scrabbled for her bag and she scrubbed at her face with the pink tissues and dropped them in sodden balls on the carpet and on to the chair. Evelyn reached for her orange juice and took a sip. She put down the glass carefully, on a mat with a fringe. ‘Mr Sidney was a good husband to you,’ she suggested.
Mrs Sidney talked about the buying of the coat, of the cakes they had eaten, of the vast corridors of the hospital with its draughts and swinging firedoors; the stained walls, the starched impatience of doctors’ coats and the dreadful grimace of his paralysed mouth. As she talked she gasped and retched at the memories, but in the end she calmed herself, sat upright and shaking on the edge of the chair, her legs crossed tightly and her eyes formless and red. She was ready to begin.
‘Mr Sidney’s line of work was with the Transport Authority,’ she said carefully. She spoke as if each of her words was a precious crystal glass coming out of a crate; one slip could shatter her again.
‘You mean the Bus Company?’ Evelyn said.
‘It was a kind of insurance work. When – if, you see, there was an accident, someone was in an accident on the bus, he would be finding out what happened and deciding how much the Bus – the Transport Authority – ought to pay out for it. He was called a Claims Investigation Agent.’
‘Yes,’ Evelyn said. ‘He was a clerk. I understand. Now I will tell you, Mrs Sidney, sometimes I meet with success and sometimes I don’t. If you would call it success; I would say, results. It appears that they tell some people that all is very beautiful on the ninth plane and that there are flowers and organ music, but they never said that to me, and if they do say it I think they must be confusing it with the funeral. It would be a natural mistake. On those grounds, I hardly approve of cremation.’
‘But do you ever’, Mrs Sidney hesitated, ‘do you ever speak with your own husband?’
‘Clifford died in 1946,’ Evelyn said. ‘He was a quiet man, and I suppose we have less in common than we did.’
‘What did—did he pass over suddenly?’
‘Very suddenly. Peritonitis.’
There was a silence. Mrs Sidney broke it with difficulty. ‘Do you use a wineglass?’
Evelyn snorted. ‘If you want that, you get it at parties, don’t you?’
‘I’m sorry,’ Mrs Sidney said. She stood up. ‘Mrs Axon, I’m sorry, I don’t think I should have come. If my daughter knew she’d kill me.’
‘And your curiosity would be satisfied,’ Evelyn said. ‘How old are you, Mrs Sidney?’
‘Since you ask, I’m sixty-five.’
Evelyn sighed. ‘Not a great age, but you ought to know what to expect. If I were you, I’d sit down, and we can get on.’
Mrs Sidney sat. She stared about her, hypnotised by her own temerity, by Evelyn’s watery blue eyes, by the dull sheen of the afternoon light on the hard leather chairs.
Presently Evelyn leaned forward, her hands clasped together, her eyes closed, and scalding tears dropped from under her lids. Mrs Sidney watched them falling. Her heart hammered. Evelyn’s mouth gaped open, and Mrs Sidney dug her nails into her palms, expecting Arthur’s voice to come out.
Evelyn dropped back in her chair. Her pale eyes snapped open, and she spoke in a perfectly normal voice.
‘I told you not to come to me for reassurance, Mrs Sidney. Go to the Spiritualist Church if you like. It’s in Ruskin Road. They have a cold buffet afterwards.’ She got heavily to her feet. Mrs Sidney lurched after her, past the empty china cabinet and the dead pot-plant, stumbling to the door.
‘Mrs Sidney,’ Evelyn said, ‘your husband Arthur is roasting in some unspeakable hell.’
She closed the door. I shall give this up, she thought. They come here, for a Cook’s Tour of the other world; as if it were in some other but accessible place, they use me like an aeroplane, like a cruise liner. But it was here, a little removed yet concurrent; each day some limb of the supernatural reached out to pluck you by the clothes. I shall give it up, she thought, because it is making me ill; if one day I took some sort of fit and were laid up, what would happen, who would look after Muriel?
AXON, MURIEL ALEXANDRA
DATE OF BIRTH: 4.4.40
2 Buckingham Avenue
Miss Axon was visited at her home by Miss Perkins of this Department on 3.3.73 and subsequently by CWD on 15.3.73. Client lives with her widowed mother, Mrs Evelyn Axon. Her father died in 1946. They are resident in a comfortable detached house with all usual amenities. Client attended St David’s School, Arlington Road, 1945—1955, but her attendance seems to have been nominal as her mother states she was ‘more often absent’. Mrs Axon states that she was informed about 1946 or 1947 that Muriel did not seem to have the normal aptitude for her age-group, and she was kept behind a class for two subsequent years. At this point it appears client should have been designated ESN under the provisions of the 1944 Act, but this was not done and it is suggested that at this point in time she appeared in a borderline normality situation. Mrs Axon states that she considered that client had been adversely affected by her father’s death at six years old and that ‘she would not have benefited’ from special provision. During the years following Mr Hutchinson, then School Attendance Officer, visited the house on several occasions but unfortunately these records cannot be traced in the files of the newly-constituted Education Welfare Department. (Query check County Hall.) According to Mrs Axon client was referred (by Mr Hutchinson) to the Gresham Trust which prior to the takeover of its functions by the Local Authority dealt with the welfare of the subnormal in the community. Client was visited by a caseworker of the Trust, a Miss Blackstone, and Mrs Axon states that tests were given to the client but that she refused to participate in them. Mrs Axon states that the visits of the Trust ceased after one year and there appear to be no records of client as it does not seem to have been the policy of the Trust to keep records for more than five years.
Client appears physically fit. Mrs Axon states that other than the usual childhood illnesses she has never been seriously ill, never been hospitalised, and has not had occasion to visit her GP in the last ten years or possibly more. Mrs Axon is in general very vague about dates. Mrs Axon states that Muriel is able to wash and dress herself but will ‘put on anything’ and that she has to supervise her washing and also her meals as she will eat unsuitable food. However she is able to help in the house though Mrs Axon states she is not very willing. She is sometimes taken shopping by Mrs Axon but not frequently. Mrs Axon states that client is not able to go out alone because of various incidents that have occurred in the past, but she would not go into any further details about this.
Mrs Axon is extremely uncommunicative in herself and this is seen as a problem in assessment. According to Mrs Axon client is able to understand everything that is said to her but often does not answer when she is spoken to. She has no hobbies or pastimes. Difficulties in this case are increased by the uncooperative and almost hostile attitude of Mrs Axon, who seems to resent any intervention by welfare agencies. Client’s environment seems to be unstimulating and Mrs Axon seems to be ashamed of her to the extent that she is unwilling for her to be seen by neighbours. Her attitude to her seems to be one of basic contempt and that client does not have ordinary feelings,
