The Burden by Agatha Christie

Author:Agatha Christie [Administrator]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2010-07-03T05:00:00+00:00

3

“Isn’t it lucky I didn’t sell the house?” said Laura.

It was three months later. Henry had not died, but he had been very near death.

“If he hadn’t insisted upon going out and playing tennis after the first signs, it wouldn’t have been so serious. As it is—”

“It’s bad—eh?”

“It’s fairly certain that he’ll be a cripple far life.”

“Poor devil.”

“They haven’t told him that, of course. And I suppose there’s just a chance . . . but perhaps they only say that to cheer up Shirley. Anyway, as I said, it’s lucky I haven’t sold the house. It’s queer—I had a feeling all along that I oughtn’t to sell it. I kept saying to myself it was ridiculous, that it was far too big for me, that since Shirley hadn’t any children they would never want a house in the country. And I was quite keen to take on this job, running the Children’s Home in Milchester. But as it is, the sale hasn’t gone through, and I can withdraw and the house will be there for Shirley to bring Henry to when he gets out of hospital. That won’t be for some months, of course.”

“Does Shirley think that’s a good plan?”

Laura frowned.

“No, for some reason she’s most reluctant. I think I know why.”

She looked up sharply at Mr. Baldock.

“I might as well know—Shirley may have told you what she wouldn’t like to tell me. She’s got practically none of her own money left, has she?”

“She hasn’t confided in me,” said Mr. Baldock, “but no, I shouldn’t think she had.” He added: “I should imagine Henry’s gone tbrough pretty well all he ever had, too.”

“I’ve heard a lot of things,” said Laura. “From friends of theirs and other people. It’s been a terribly unhappy marriage. He’s gone through her money, he’s neglected her, he’s constantly had, affairs with other women. Even now, when he’s so ill, I can’t bring myself to forgive him. How could he treat Shirley like that? If anyone deserved to be happy, Shirley did. She was so full of life and eagerness and—and trust.” She got up and walked restlessly about the room. She tried to steady her voice as she went on:

“Why did I ever let her marry Henry? I could have stopped it, you know, or at any rate delayed it so that she would have had time to see what he was like. But she was fretting so—she wanted him. I wanted her to have what she wanted.”

“There, there, Laura”

“And it’s worse than that. I wanted to show that I wasn’t possessive. Just to prove that to myself, I let Shirley in for a lifetime of unhappiness.”

“I’ve told you before, Laura, you worry too much about happiness and unhappiness.”

“I can’t bear to see Shirley suffer! You don’t mind, I suppose.”

“Shirley, Shirley! It’s you I mind about, Laura—always have. Ever since you used to ride round the garden on that fairy-cycle of yours looking as solemn as a judge. You’ve got a capacity for suffering, and you can’t minimise it as some can, by the balm of self-pity.

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