"Tell me," she continued, "do I look as you expected me to look?"
She must be careful, Marda West thought. The question might be a trap".
"I think you do," she said slowly.
"When I go home with you," said Nurse Ansel, "I needn't wear uniform – that is, if you don't want me to. You see, you'll be a private patient then, and I your personal nurse for the week I'm with you."
Marda West felt suddenly cold. In the rush of the day she had forgotten the plans. Nurse Ansel was to be with them for a week. It was all arranged. The vital thing was not to show fear. Nothing must seem chanted. And then, when Jim arrived, she would tell him everything. If he could not see the snake's head as she did – and indeed, it was possible that he would not, if her hypervision was caused by the lenses – he must just understand that for reasons too deep to explain she no longer trusted Nurse Ansel, could not, in fact, bear her to come home. The plan must be altered. She wanted no one to look after her. She only wanted to be home again, with him.
The telephone rang on the bedside-table and Marda West seized it. It was her husband.
"Sorry to be late," he said. "I'll jump into a taxi and be with you right away."
He rang off, and looking up she saw the snake's head watching her. No doubt, thought Marda West, no doubt you would like to know what we were saying to one another.
"You must promise not to get too excited when Mr. West comes." Nurse Ansel stood with her hand upon the MISSED.
"I'm not excited. I just long to see him, that's all."
"You're looking very flushed".
"It's warm in here."
"I'll open the window just a trifle at the top."
Then the neck settled in the collar, the tongue darted rapidly in and out, and with a gliding motion Nurse Ansel left the room.
Marda West waited for the sound of the taxi in the street outside. She wondered if she could persuade Jim to stay the night in the nursing-home. If she explained her fear, her terror, surely he would understand.
The taxi came at last. She heard it slow down, and then the door slammed and, Jim's voice rang out in the street below. The taxi went away. Her heart began to beat fast, and she watched the door. She heard his footstep outside, and then his voice again – he must be saying something to the snake.
The door opened, the familiar umbrella und bowler hat the Xirst objects to appear round the corner, then the comforting burly figure, but – God … no … please God, not Jim too, not Jim, forced into a mask, forced into an organisation of devils, of liars … Jim had a vulture’s” head. She could not mistake it. As she lay in sick and speechless horror, he stood the umbrella in a corner and put down the bowler hat and the folder overcoat.
"I gather you're not too well," he said, turning his vulture's head and staring at her, "feeling a bit sick and out of sorts. I won't stay long. A good night's rest will put you right."
She was too numb to answer. She lay quite still as he approached the bed and bent to kiss her. The vulture's beak was sharp.
"It's reaction, Nurse Ansel says," he went on, "the sudden shock of being able to see again. It works differently with different people. She says it will be much better when we get you home."
We ... Nurse Ansel and Jim. The plan still held-", then.
"I don't know," she said faintly, "that I want Nurse Ansel to come home."
"Not want Nurse Ansel?" He sounded startled. "But it was you who suggested it. You can't suddenly change."
There was no time to reply. She had not rung the bell, but Nurse Ansel herself came into the room. "Cup of coffee, Mr. West?" she said. It was the evening routine. Yet tonight it sounded strange, as though it had been arranged outside the door.
"Thanks, Nurse, I'd love some. What's this nonsense about not coming home with us?" The vulture turned to the snake, the snake's head wriggled, and Marda West knew, as she watched them, the snake with darting tongue, the vulture with his head hunched between his man's shoulders, that the plan for Nurse Ansel to come home had not been her own after all; she remembered now that the first suggestion had come from Nurse Ansel herself. It had been Nurse Ansel who had said that Marda West needed care. The suggestion had come after Jim had spent the evening laughing and joking and his wife had listened, her eyes bandaged, happy to hear him. Now, watching the smooth snake she knew why Nurse Ansel wanted to return with her, and she knew too why Jim had not opposed it, why in fact he had accepted the plan at once, had declared it a good one.
The vulture opened its blood-stained beak. "Don't say you two have fallen out?"
"Impossible." The snake twisted its neck, looked sideways at the vulture, and added, "Mrs. West is just a little bit tired tonight. She's had a trying day, haven't you, dear?"
How best to answer? Neither must know. Neithei the vulture, nor the snake.
"I'm all right," she said. "A bit mixed-up. As Nurse Ansel says, I'll be better in the morning."
"Did you really mean that," Jim asked, "about Nurse Ansel?"
A vulture needed sharp claws for tearing its victim.
"I don't know," she said. "It seemed to me rather silly to go home with a nurse, now that I can see again."
"I think she's treasure," he said. "I vote we stick to the plan. After all, if it doesn't work we can always send her away."
"Perhaps," said his wife.
"What will you do this evening?" she asked quietly."Have dinner at the club, I suppose," he answered. "It's becoming rather monotonous. Only two more days of it, thank goodness. Then you'll be home again."
Yes, but once at home, once back there, with a vulture and a snake, would she not be more completely at their mercy than she was here?
"You look unwell," he said suddenly. "Shall I call Nurse Ansel?"
"No..." It broke from her, almost a cry.
"I think I'd better go. She said not to stay long."
He got up from the chair, a heavy, hooded figure, and she closed her eyes as he came to kiss her good night. "Sleep well, my poor pet, and take it easy."
When he had gone she began to moan, turning her head upon the pillow.
"What am I to do?" she said. "What am I to do?"
The door opened again and she put her hand to her mouth. They must not hear her cry. They must not see her cry. She pulled herself together with a tremendous effort.
"How are you feeling, Mrs. West?"
The snake stood at the bottom of the bed, and by her side the house physician. She had always liked him, a young pleasant man, and although like the others he had an animal's head it did not frighten her. It was a dog's head, an Aberdeen's and the brown eyes seemed to quiz her.
"Could I speak to you alone?" she asked.
"Of course. Do you mind, nurse?" He jerked his head at the door, and she had gone. Marda West sat up in bed and clasped her hands.
"You'll think me very foolish," she began, "but it's the lenses. They make everyone look strange."
"They're supposed to do that, you know. They don't show colour." His voice was cheerful, friendly.
"Yes," she said. His voice, even his head, gave her confidence. "Have you known people who've had this operation before?"
"Yes, scores of them". In a couple of days you'll be as right as rain". You'll actually see more clearly in every way. One patient told me that it was as though she had been wearing spectacles all her life, and then, because of the operation, she realized she saw all her friends and her family as they really were."
"As they really were?" She repeated his words after him.
"Exactly. Her sight had always been poor, you see. She had thought her husband's hair was brown, but in reality it was red, bright red. A bit of a shock at first. But she was delighted."
The Aberdeen moved from the bed and nodded his head.
She repeated the words he had used himself. Marda West could see people as they really were. And those whom she had loved and trusted most were in truth a vulture and a snake…
The door opened and Nurse Ansel, with the sedative,entered the room.