“I know what you’re thinking,” Cora said, “and of course you’re quite right. I am far too sensible to cope with a nonsensical world. I’d rather stay here.” She laughed. “I in my small corner and you in yours.” Somewhere in the building a gong began to ring. In a sudden panic Lucille started out of the chair but even before she was on her feet the gong had stopped again.
“That’s Mary Filsinger,” Cora said wryly. “Every time she goes out for a walk she runs to the fence and touches it to see if the escape alarm is still working. She never misses.”
“Why?” Lucille said.
“Why? No one ever asks why at Penwood, it’s too futile. Concentrate, instead, on the beautiful consistency and order of things — Mary Filsinger and the fence, Mrs. Hammond and her solitary sentence. There’s a pattern of divine illogic about it, and the pattern doesn’t change. It’s what I miss in the real world, some kind of pattern that doesn’t change.”
“The fence,” Lucille said. “If someone tried to get in here — the alarm would ring?”
“To get in?” Cora’s voice was sharp with disappointment. She had wanted to go on talking about patterns. She had felt that she had at last acquired a roommate capable of appreciating her, a woman, like herself, who could observe life but was utterly bewildered in the living of it. “Who on earth wants to get into Penwood? The more common desire is to get out.”
“I want to stay here,” Lucille whispered.
“Hush.” Cora jerked her head around toward the open door. “Miss Scott will be coming back in a minute. Don’t let her hear you. Why do you want to stay here?”
“I don’t know... I’m... afraid...” She felt the words pressing on her throat like bubbles ready to break. If I told someone, I could get help, someone might help me... Help me, Cora...
Then she saw Cora’s eyes, bright with a wild unreasonable excitement. She shrank back in the chair, pressing her fists against her breasts.
“Don’t say anything,” Cora said. “If you want to stay here don’t tell Dr. Goodrich anything. Don’t answer him at all, not a word. Even one word might give you away.”
“Give me — away?”
“You don’t belong here. But if you want to stay that’s your business. Don’t tell Dr. Goodrich anything.”
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Morrow.”
(Don’t answer him at all.)
“I hope you’re settled comfortably in your room. Sit down here, please. You may go, Miss Scott.”
(Silence. Eyes. Surely he had more than two eyes?)
“Please sit down, Mrs. Morrow.”
(Should I sit down? Would that be giving myself away?)
“That’s better, that’s fine. Perhaps you’d like a cigarette. I’m sorry we can’t allow smoking in the rooms, you can understand why.”
(Of course. We’re children, you can’t trust us with fire.)
“Can’t you?”
(What is he holding out to me? A cigarette? No, a pen. Why a pen?)
“I have a few routine questions to ask you. If you’ll take the pen and sign your name right here... What is your full name, please?... What date is this anyway?”
(December 9th, but I won’t tell you, you can’t catch me.)
“Your full name?”
(Can’t catch me.)
“What year were you born? Do you know where you are? Can you see this? Can you hear this? What color is your dress?”
The questions continued. Lucille said nothing. Dr. Goodrich was entirely unperturbed at her silence. He seemed intent on what he was writing and barely looked at her any more.
She felt secure in her silence, and suddenly triumphant. It was easy, after all, it was the easiest thing in the world to fool him. Almost boldly she glanced across the desk to see what he was writing. She saw with a shock that he wasn’t writing anything; he was drawing pictures, and he’d been waiting for her to find it out, deliberately.
In that instant he looked up and their eyes met. His were kindly but a little cynical. You’re not putting anything over on me, they said.
“All right, Mrs. Morrow,” he said pleasantly. “We don’t want to overdo things the first day. Miss Scott will show you back to your room.”
Through a haze she saw Miss Scott gliding across the room toward her. She put out her hands, blindly, to clutch at something safe.
Miss Scott caught her as she fell.
“She’s fainted,” Miss Scott said in a surprised voice.
“Put her on the couch and get a stretcher. Don’t send her to the dining room tonight for dinner unless she asks to go. And send Miss Green down here, please.”
Fifteen minutes later Cora arrived, flanked by a blushing Miss Parsons.
“Why on earth you have to have her bring me is more than I can say.” Cora said. “I know my way around this place better than she does. And it isn’t as if I’d try to escape.”
Miss Parsons made a hurried exit. Cora bounced across the room toward Dr. Goodrich.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Cora,” Goodrich said with a faint smile.
Cora sat down. She was breathing heavily and her lips had a bluish tinge that Goodrich noted with concern.
“How do you feel, Cora?”
“Fine.”
“You should learn to move more slowly.”
“I’ve never been cautious,” Cora said with a toss of her head. “It’s too late to learn now.”
“Tomorrow’s visitors’ day. Your sister is coming. I thought it would be a good idea for you to be all packed ready to go home with her.”
She stared at him. “Did you tell Janet?”
“She suggested it herself. You haven’t been home for quite a while.”
“I don’t want to go. I’m too old to be shunted back and forth like this all the time.”
“You may come back whenever you feel like it. You’re much better than you were.”
“You know that’s a lie, doctor,” Cora said. “Why do you want me to go home? Because I’m not going to last much longer, is that it?”
“Nonsense. Your sister thought you might like to come. It’s up to you. If you’d rather stay here, well, you know we like to have you.”
It was true. Miss Green was the favorite of the hospital. It was difficult to imagine this bright cheerful little woman getting wildly drunk whenever the opportunity presented itself. On these occasions her moral barriers were all swept away. Twice she had been arrested for stealing, and several times for disorderly conduct. Usually she remembered nothing of what she had done. After the second offense, her sister Janet had sent her to Penwood and from here she made periodic visits home. But they were not successful. Under the vigilant and worried eye of her sister, Cora felt far more irresponsible and restless than she did at Penwood. After a few days of this constant watching Cora felt impelled to escape from it. She had the subtle cunning of the superior drunkard, and Janet, an unimaginative and successful business woman, was no match for her. Cora always managed to get out, to get money, to get drunk. Her heart made these excursions increasingly dangerous.
“You know what would happen/’ Cora said. “You know very well I’m not cured.”
Goodrich, who knew it very well, said nothing.
“How many of us ever are?” she demanded.
“Not many.”
“I used to think that once I knew why I drank I could stop, just like that.” She snapped her fingers. “But nothing is so simple as it seems. I know, and you know, why I drink.”