Mr Toppit by Charles Elton

Author:Charles Elton [Elton, Charles]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
ISBN: 9781408431115
Publisher: AudioGO
Published: 2009-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Laurie

“How come you’re so howdy-doody all of a sudden?” Alma said to Laurie in the visiting room at Spring Crest the first time she had been there since returning from England.

There were many ways to describe how she was feeling at that moment but “howdy-doody” was not one that sprang immediately to mind. On reflection, though, Laurie thought it was as good as any. Alma’s little eyes, beneath wrinkled lids, were staring at her intently and Laurie held her gaze without saying anything.

“Ever since you came back from England,” Alma snapped. “You meet someone over there? Some man? Best thing that could happen.” She threw her head back and gave a nasty laugh. “You’re like a sack of dry leaves.”

Laurie forced herself to stay silent. She turned away from Alma and began to zing as hard as she could. She was determined not to enter this particular playground.

“You ought to come to this place. They’re like dogs. Ray Tabares and Dina Nelson—Mrs. D had to haul them out of the pool house, pants round their ankles. Dina’s seventy-seven. Should’ve poured ice water over them. Anyway, what kind of vacation could you have over there on your own? Look at you—look how pale you are.”

“I wasn’t trying for a tan.”

“Weather’s terrible there. Rains all the time.”

“I don’t believe you’ve been to England, have you, Alma?” Laurie said calmly.

Alma ignored this. “When am I going home?” she said.

“This is home, Alma. This is your home now.”

“Why can’t I come home? It’s my house.”

“I pay the loan on it. I have done for years.”

Alma’s face creased up and she began to cry. “You want me to die here, don’t you?” she shouted.

Laurie reached into her purse and pulled out a tissue. She held it out to Alma, who brushed it away angrily. However and wherever she died, Laurie wanted Alma’s death to have some kind of meaning. She dreaded what she knew would be the awful insignificance of her sidestep from life. It would be a local death, a notice in the Modesto Bee, maybe a few lines on the obit page, although Laurie found it hard to imagine how you could embroider the events of Alma’s life into anything that approached even local note. Her homemade preserves were not legendary, her cross-stitching had not won prizes at the County Fair, she had not performed unforgettably in Arsenic and Old Lace with the Modesto Players. She had never even attended a PTA meeting.

Laurie saw that Alma had stopped crying and was regarding her with something that resembled astonishment. She realized that it had not occurred to Alma that Laurie would actually think about her question and not just answer it quickly and reassuringly. When Alma repeated it—“Do you want me to die here, Laurie? Do you?”—her voice was tremulous and frightened, and Laurie saw that in extreme circumstances Alma still had the capacity to connect to something real. The fact was, Arthur’s passing had spoiled Laurie. It was a hard act to follow

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