Family Vault by Charlotte MacLeod Page B

the boys buy him drinks because of his ailment. Alexander remembered details like that.
    As Uncle Jem would say, poppycock! Alexander wouldn’t even set mousetraps. The hot water was soothing her nerves a little, even though the dumpy claw-footed tub was too short for a satisfactory loll. The one on the second floor was twice as big, but only Aunt Caroline got to use that.
    Before they married, Alexander had papered and painted the thirdfloor suite, trying to make things attractive for his young bride. However, he hadn’t been able to do much about the cracked and sagging plaster, so the paint had soon begun to flake and the paper to peel away from the walls. While she was soaking, a chip fell off the ceiling and plunked into the water beside her.
    Everything was falling apart. Sarah crawled over the high side of the tub and rubbed furiously at her body with a towel that, like everything else in this house, had seen its best days. She put on her blue cocoon because she felt cold, and was on her way down the front staircase when her husband and his mother came in.
    “Are we going out?”
    Alexander’s question was almost a groan. Sarah stood on tiptoe to give him a kiss.
    “What kind of greeting is that? Can’t I dress up for my husband if I want to? Did you have a good time at Aunt Marguerite’s?”
    “Mother enjoyed herself.”
    Most uncharacteristacally, he dropped his overcoat on a chair instead of bothering to hang it up. “Have I time for a drink before dinner?”
    “Of course. It’s only half-past six.”
    “It feels like midnight.”
    “Go flop in the library. I’ll do the drinks. Edith can look after your mother.”
    Mrs. Kelling always expected a good deal of attention after one of these all-day excursions, but her daughter-in-law was not about to give it this time. Aunt Caroline was perfectly capable of doing a great deal more for herself than she did, and it was high time they quit spoiling her rotten. Sarah hung up the overcoat, went to call the maid, then hurried back to her husband.
    Alexander was in no mood for talk. He didn’t even thank her for the stiff whiskey she brought him, or for poking up the fire that he usually attended to. Sarah stood looking at him for a moment, and decided what he needed most was a hot meal and no fussing.
    Cooking was supposed to be one of Edith’s duties, but the maid had learned several years ago that by producing thoroughly uneatable meals, she could manipulate the younger Mrs. Kelling into taking most of that work off her hands. Aunt Caroline required food that could be managed with a minimum of fuss and fumble, which meant a lot of chopping and pureeing. It was quite a while before Sarah got back to the library. Aunt Caroline was holding forth at length about her sister’s book. Her son wasn’t even pretending to pay attention. At last the blind woman became aware of his indifference.
    “Alexander, are you there?”
    Sarah picked up her mother-in-law’s hand. “Dinner in ten minutes,” she spelled out. “More sherry first?”
    “No,” snapped the older woman, trying to jerk her hand away as she always did when Sarah used hand signals to communicate with her.
    “Why doesn’t Alex answer me?”
    “Tired,” Sarah spelled out.
    “What of that? I’m tired, too. Those luncheons of Marguerite’s are always exhausting, but if I can stand them, why can’t he?”
    Sarah caught her husband’s eye. “I suppose it wouldn’t be kind of me to explain that it’s because you have to stand her at the same time. Alexander, we simply must find some kind of nurse-companion for your mother, whether we can afford one or not.”
    “Please, Sarah, not tonight.”
    Alexander Kelling took his mother’s hand and began making signals in the palm. His long, pale fingers seemed to be working automatically, with no direction from his conscious mind.

8
    T HE TROUBLE SARAH TOOK over preparing dinner might as well have been saved. Mrs. Kelling declared that Marguerite