“If I listen to you, will you go away and leave me alone?”
The woman briefly considered this. “Perhaps,” she replied casually.
It was a dubious reassurance, but Miss Dewey held on to a thread of hope that she might be able to satisfy this woman and be allowed to return to her orderly, solitary life.
“I’ve told the police about you,” Miss Dewey said tremulously, her voice cracking as she sat down again slowly in the armchair. She worried that this woman might be violent.
“Oh, and what did you tell them?”
“I showed them the doll and told them about the times you broke into my flat and disturbed my things.” She motioned towards the doll, which was now sitting on the floor beside her chair.
“And did they believe you?”
Miss Dewey fell silent as the woman stared at her with unforgiving eyes.
“Well, did they? Tell the truth now, Miss Dewey. A good schoolmistress is always brutally honest. You were always honest with me, weren’t you?”
“Well yes, I mean perhaps not,” Miss Dewey replied uncertainly, unsure what she was answering to and what the attendant consequences might be.
“You don’t really think they believed you? Look at you, you’re pathetic and even comical. I’m sure they thought you needed your head tested, with all your wild stories of your horrid little mundane life.”
Miss Dewey opened her mouth to defend herself, but the woman interrupted her acrimoniously. “I have a key to your flat. It’s quite convenient, really.”
“You have a key?” Miss Dewey asked dubiously. “But how did you get it?”
“Well, it’s not a key, actually. I use a hairpin, that’s how useless your lock is. I can get into your flat whenever I like.” She paused a moment, then changed the subject. “By the way, what do you think of my figure now?”
Miss Dewey hardly heard the question. “What?” she asked in confusion.
The woman repeated her question. Miss Dewey eyed her carefully and could see at once that the woman didn’t have a figure, all straight up and down, bones jutting out wherever you could see them under the billowy skirt and blouse. But she thought it best not to comment on this.
The woman nodded quickly. “I thought as much. You won’t tell me what you really think because you’re a coward. You’re afraid of me now. The tables have turned, haven’t they? But since you don’t remember, I’ll tell you. I was quite fat when I was your student. Do you remember when you ridiculed me for my untidy desk? ‘This pupil has a piggy desk, so she must be a pig.’ The others laughed, of course. They were so relieved that you hadn’t targeted them. But I didn’t laugh, especially since ‘piggy’ became my nickname.”
“I don’t recall saying any of those things to you. I think,” Miss Dewey added bravely, “I think that you’re making it all up.”
The woman from upstairs laughed shrilly. “I expect the worst thing you ever did was make me wet my pants because you wouldn’t allow me to use the loo. You made me stand in front of the room while you criticized me about the mess I had made, and you drew everyone’s attention to the dreadful stink in the room. Then you made me sit in it the rest of the day while the other children plugged their noses and told me how disgusting I was. You never lifted a finger to help me. That doll you have there was me; you might as well have put a noose around my neck. It would have saved me a lot of pain.”
“What do you want from me?” Miss Dewey asked in a small voice.
The woman answered quickly. “Why, I want an apology, of course. Heartfelt, if you don’t mind.”
“That’s all you want?” Miss Dewey asked with surprise.
The woman bit her lip and appraised Miss Dewey’s relieved eyes critically. “I think so. Let’s try it and see if I feel any better.”
Miss Dewey spoke without hesitation. “I, I’m sorry for whatever I might have done.” She focused her beady eyes on the stern face of the woman from upstairs. “I don’t think I meant to hurt you, but I am sorry.” Of course Miss Dewey wasn’t truly sorry because she couldn’t even recall who this woman was. But if an apology would appease her, she would certainly oblige. Miss Dewey wondered if she was putting her on a bit, but she didn’t know because the woman stood up and was apparently going to leave. This was a blessed relief to Miss Dewey, since she didn’t feel at all well. She was feeling lightheaded, and there was a pain in her chest. She needed to have a liedown before she passed out.
Although it was only early afternoon, the sky outside was dark and threatening, making it seem like early evening. In Miss Dewey’s flat, none of the lamps was switched on, and there was a damp, funereal air. The woman stood for a moment with her back to Miss Dewey, her eyes on the door and her arms folded tightly, as if she were considering something. Then she turned around slowly, facing Miss Dewey again.
“You know, I’m afraid I don’t feel any better after your apology, Miss Dewey,” the woman bantered. “It’s just not enough. I should think you will have to do much more than just say you’re sorry. Did you really think that was enough?”
The woman kept talking, but Miss Dewey couldn’t make out exactly what she was saying. Finally the woman from upstairs noticed that her audience was fading.
“You don’t look at all well, Miss Dewey,” the woman said with a trace of concern. “Should I call a doctor?”
Miss Dewey shook her head. The pain in her chest was mild now, but it held the prospect of becoming excruciating. The nitroglycerin would fix it, though. Miss Dewey walked into the kitchen slowly, adding in explanation to the woman sitting on the settee, “I’ll just get my medicine.” As if that woman was somehow entitled to an explanation. It seemed that she was entitled to everything, Miss Dewey thought with irritation. She took a nitro tablet and slipped it under her tongue, supporting herself by leaning against the cupboard. The pain subsided after a few minutes, and Miss Dewey was able to straighten her back.
“Can I help you?” the woman asked with what Miss Dewey thought was a smirk.
She wanted to answer “Clear on out of here and leave me be!” but instead she turned around and smiled sweetly at the woman upstairs. She had made a decision.
“I’m feeling much better now, thanks. Would you like a cup of hot cocoa? I’m just making one and it’ll only take a minute to put one on for you, too. It’s such a chilly day out.”
The woman looked taken aback, surprised at Miss Dewey’s offer of hospitality. Too surprised to be suspicious, she replied, “Why yes, actually. That would be lovely.”
Miss Dewey heated the milk, adding the sugar and cocoa and stirring it all together. The woman from upstairs sat quietly in the dark, not paying any attention to Miss Dewey while she fussed in the kitchen. Miss Dewey arranged the mugs of cocoa on a tray and took it over to the countertop underneath her store of medicines, out of the woman’s line of vision. She had made an instantaneous but powerful decision. This former pupil would never let her alone. Hadn’t she said, ‘I just don’t think your apology’s enough, Miss Dewey’? And hadn’t Miss Dewey’s heart been failing her more and more ever since this torment began? Miss Dewey could always move out, find another suitable flat (a nearly impossible task), but why should she have to? The woman would probably follow her, and besides, before she had come along, Waverly Mansions had been perfect for Miss Dewey. No, she could not go on like this. Miss Dewey examined the row of medicines on the shelf. She had enough sleeping tablets to put all of Parliament out cold. She chose the most potent in capsule form and emptied the powder of all the remaining capsules into the mug. She did it as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The idea had simply occurred to her, and she acted upon it without hesitation. She nearly laughed out loud at her bravura. She hadn’t read all those Dorothy Sayers murder mysteries for nothing.