For a Modest Fee by Freda Jackson

Author:Freda Jackson
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-926741-75-8
Publisher: Touchwood Editions
Published: 2011-02-16T00:00:00+00:00

Twelve

The wind rattled the windowpanes enough to lift the blue-and-yellow curtains. They were sitting in the kitchen to conserve fuel, Elizabeth reading a novel and Ann poring over a recipe for Christmas pudding, when a loud banging rang from the front door. Angel tore around the house yapping.

“Were you expecting someone?” Ann asked.

Elizabeth shook her head.

They hurried to the front hall and skidded to a stop, shocked by a stark white face framed by black gloves peering in the window at them.

“Merciful heavens,” Ann exclaimed. “It’s Beatrice and she looks frantic. Do you suppose something has happened to Mr. Schneider?”

In undertones, Elizabeth answered, “No, but I believe I know what this is about.”

Ann pulled the door open and Beatrice stumbled into the hall.

“I need to see you.” Beatrice pointed her chin at Elizabeth.

“Very well,” Elizabeth said curtly.

“I’ll light a lamp for you.” Ann headed back to the kitchen.

She had only put her hand on a match when agitated voices crackled from the doctor’s office. Beatrice’s was high and frantic, but Elizabeth’s remained cool and composed. Ann finished the business of lighting the lamp and stoking the stove, only then realizing that her hands were shaking. The argument from the front carried ugly words and even uglier implications.

“I will not have any part of it.” Elizabeth sounded shocked.

“You have to help me. What will I do? I’ll die!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You could go to Calgary and stay close to a doctor there.”

“No, I’ll die, even with a doctor. I know it, I can see these things. Don’t you understand? I see these things.”

“I understand that you’re overexcited. You should discuss this with Mr. Schneider. Tell him you want the best treatment possible. Why, I’ll wager he would even let you go home to Nebraska if that’s what would make you feel better.”

“Tell Mr. Schneider?” Her voice broke into a squeal. “You’re not going to tell Herbert, are you? You’re not allowed to do that. This is a private visit and none of his business, do you hear me?”

“Dear God,” Ann said to the kitchen stove.

Elizabeth kept her voice quiet and even. “I won’t tell a soul, of course. That’s your privilege.”

“This wouldn’t be happening if you’d given me something to prevent it in the first place. I told you last summer I had to have something, and again just a few weeks ago.”

Ann thought she might even feel a little sorry for Herbert.

Beatrice babbled on. “I know you have things that could fix this, I’ve read about them in the magazines. I would have sent for one of those tonics on my own, but that yappy Mel at the post office tells everybody everything.”

“He does not,” Ann murmured quietly and then thought, Mercy I’m getting as barmy as Beatrice, talking to myself.

“I know you can get that stuff, being a nurse. No one would ask questions. I’d pay you good money, too.” Then in a sly and threatening way that made Ann’s flesh creep, Beatrice finished with, “You’ve helped other women, I know you have.

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