The Palace of Heavenly Pleasure by Adam Williams

Author:Adam Williams
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781466872271
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

Twelve

This city is so big—but we stride through the streets like the heroes of old.

Helen Frances was sitting on her made-up bed fully clothed, a defiant, surly expression on her face. She had opened the shutters and bright morning sunshine suffused the room. Nellie, who had remained with her back to the door, noticed that Helen Frances had packed all her clothes into three portmanteaux, which were lined up in front of the emptied sideboard. The room was light and airy; the Scottish scenes framed on the white walls gave the place a cheeriness that none of the three people contemplating each other felt.

‘Why are you out of bed?’ asked Airton quietly, pulling up a wooden chair so he was facing her.

‘I’ve changed my mind,’ said Helen Frances. ‘I want you to give me my money and then I’m leaving—after you’ve given me the morphine you promised me last night. I’m taking the train away from here.’

‘Did I promise you morphine last night?’ asked the doctor, ignoring her last remark. Helen Frances’s eyes widened, then her face pinched as she frowned. Nellie was reminded of a snarling fox. ‘You did. You know you promised me, Doctor.’ It was a harsh, shrill sound; to Nellie, it was the voice of a stranger. ‘I need it. It’s been twelve hours. Last night. You promised you’d come again in the morning.’

‘I have come again in the morning, my dear,’ said Airton.

Helen Frances’s suspicious eyes flickered from the doctor to Nellie to the sideboard. ‘Well, where is it? The tray? You brought it on a tray last night. Where is it?’

Airton looked at her impassively. She had been sitting in a composed position but now she began to shake and her pressed knuckles were as white as the counterpane she clutched in her trembling fingers. ‘Please, Doctor, don’t torment me. Give me my dose. Just one phial.’ Her eyes gleamed with sudden hope. ‘Or my pipe. Give me back my pipe with the paste. The one you took from my drawer. That’s mine. Mine, Doctor. Please give it back to me. You can’t take away what’s mine. Mrs Airton,’ the imploring eyes turned towards the figure by the door, ‘please ask your husband to give me some morphine. Or my pipe. Please.’

‘I think you should be getting back into your bed,’ said Nellie.

‘Listen, I saw my father this morning, as you wanted me to.’ Helen Frances’s words were tumbling out one after each other, and a bead of sweat was running down her forehead. ‘I let him come in and I lay there, and pretended I had flu. I lied to him as you told me to. I did my part. Now you’ve got to do yours and give me the morphine you promised me. And then I’ll go. And you won’t have to see me again. That’s what we agreed,’ she screamed suddenly. ‘That’s what we agreed.’

Airton tried to reach for her hands but she wrenched them away, and rolled over the bed so she was standing on the other side, breathing heavily, her fists clenched.

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