‘Everyone seems to be dying,’ she said, with a certain relish.
‘No stamina. That’s what’s the matter with them. Weak heart, coronary thrombosis, high blood pressure, chronic bronchitis, rheumatoid arthritis all the rest of it. Feeble folk, all of them.
That’s how the doctors make their living. Giving them boxes and boxes and bottles and bottles of tablets. Yellow tablets, pink tablets, green tablets, even black tablets, I shouldn’t be surprised. Ugh! Brimstone and treacle they used to use in my grandmother’s day. I bet that was as good as anything. With the choice of getting well or having brimstone and treacle to drink, you chose getting well every time.’ She nodded her head in a satisfied manner. ‘Can’t really trust doctors, can you? Not when it’s a professional matter – some new fad – I’m told there’s a lot of poisoning going on here. To get hearts for the surgeons, so I’m told. Don’t think it’s true, myself. Miss Packard’s not the sort of woman who would stand for that.’
Downstairs Miss Packard, her manner slightly apologetic, indicated a room leading off the hail.
‘I’m so sorry about this, Mrs Beresford, but I expect you know how it is with elderly people. They take fancies or dislikes and persist in them.’
‘It must be very difficult running a place of this kind,’ said Tuppence.
‘Oh, not really,’ said Miss Packard. ‘I quite enjoy it, you know. And really, I’m quite fond of them all. One gets fond of people one has to look after, you know. I mean, ey have their little ways and their fidgets, but they’re quite easy to manage, if you know how.’
Tuppence thought to herself that Miss Packard was one of those people who would know how.
‘They’re like children, really,’ said Miss Packard indul-gently.
‘Only children are far more logical which makes it difficult sometimes with them. But these people are illogical, they want to be reassured by your telling them what they want to believe. Then they’re quite happy again for a bit. I’ve got a very nice staffhere. People with patience, you know, and good temper, and not too brainy, because if you have people who are brainy they are bound to be very impatient. Yes, Miss Donovan, what is it?’ She turned her head as a young woman with p/me nez came running down the stairs.
‘It’s Mrs Lockett again, Miss Packard. She says she’s dying and she wants the doctor called at once.’
‘Oh,’ said Miss Packard, unimpressed, ‘what’s she dying from this time?’
‘She says there was mushroom in the stew yesterday and that there must have been fungi in it and that she’s poisoned.’
‘That’s a new one,’ said Miss Packard. ‘I’d better come up and talk to her. So sorry to leave you, Mrs Beresford. You’ll fred magazines and papers in that room.’
‘Oh, I’ll be quite all right,’ said Tuppence.
She went into the room that had been indicated to her. It was a pleasant room overlooking the garden with french windows that opened on it. There were easy chairs, bowls of flowers on the tables. One wall had a bookshelf containing a mixture of modern novels and travel books, and also what might be described as old favourites, which possibly many of the inmates might be glad to meet again. There were magazines on a table.
At the moment there was only one occupant in the room. An old lady with white hair combed back off her face who was sitting in a chair, holding a glass of milk in her hand, and looking at it. She had a pretty pink and white face, and she smiled at Tuppence in a friendly manner.
‘Good morning,’ she said. ‘Are you coming :e live here or are you visiting?’
‘I’m visiting,’ said Tuppence. ‘I have an aunt here. My husband’s with her now. We thought perhaps two people at once was rather too much.’
‘That was very thoughtful of you,’ said the old lady. She took a sip of milk appreciatively. ‘I wonder – no, I think it’s quite all right. Wouldn’t you like something? Some tea or some coffee perhaps? Let me ring the bell. They’re very obliging here.’ ‘No thank you,’ said Tuppence, ‘really.’