Chapter 4 #2
To their surprise, a pair of young men suddenly emerged from a door along the hall and headed in their direction.
“Oi, what are you two doing out here?” one of them called.
“You know you’re not allowed out of the common room till four.
” They strode stiffly in starched white shirts and matching trousers, the common uniform of humorless rule-enforcers everywhere.
Mrs. Chrysler advised Katherine out of the corner of her mouth: “Don’t talk to them, Katty. Let me handle it. Just look down and try to seem decrepit.”
Katherine nodded. She glued her eyes to the floor, bent a bit at the knees, and felt the tickle of three cats diving under her skirt.
“Oh, hello, love!” said Mrs. Chrysler in an affected falsetto, waving delightedly at the closest man.
She laid a hand on his arm and turned him easily round to head the way she and Katherine were walking.
Katherine snuck a glance at his comrade, who’d simply stopped in his tracks out of bewilderment.
Not many in their charge, she suspected, were likely as forceful as Mrs. Chrysler. “How are you doing today, dear?”
“Um, I’m fine, but—”
“Margaret and me—this is Margaret—we were just saying hello to that peach at the front desk. Such a lovely girl, likes to see us, personally, every now and again.”
Mrs. Chrysler’s victim nodded slowly, as if he were trying to understand. “Ms. Angela?”
“Yes, yes. She’s fun for a little chat, Ms. Angela is. Likes to see that we’re doing well, Margaret and me.”
“Ms. Angela does?”
“Yes, dear. We’re two of her favorites, you might say.” She put a finger to the side of her nose, knowingly. “But we’re on our way back to the common room now. Just like you said.”
“Aha. Well…” The man took a moment to presumably examine his place in the food chain. “All right, then. See that you do.”
“Thank you very much for stopping to check on us, dear. We’ll put in a good word for you with Ms. Angela.” Mrs. Chrysler released her gentle but determined grip. “Don’t let us keep you now.” She sent him off, a bit roughly, with a little push.
“Yes. Yes, thank you.” The young man caught up with his still-stunned counterpart further up the hall. He gave a curt nod to Katherine as he passed her. “Margaret.”
After they’d gone, Katherine nudged her friend. “Well done, Imogene.”
“I’ve always had a way with young men,” Mrs. Chrysler said airily, tossing her head.
“And we seem to blend in all right.”
“Not exactly a compliment, Katty.”
“But, Imogene, that voice…?”
“Well, it’s what old ladies always sounded like to me.”
“Aha.”
They continued on, meeting no one else, until the hallway widened into what was unmistakably the common room.
Smaller corridors led away at various angles, but wall-to-wall, the vast space was packed with an array of armchairs, tables, beds, and benches, variously occupied by elderly persons.
A few younger people, presumably staff, were also milling about, but like their charges, they did not seem to be in any great haste.
They shared a stiff uniform of starched white, like the men they’d encountered in the hall, but also wore thick overcoats and peaked caps.
The decor was austere, Katherine noticed, except for an ornate rosette chandelier that blossomed from the high ceiling.
It seemed to be emitting a low thrum and rotating very slowly, like an extravagant mobile.
Katherine found herself watching it for a few moments.
But presently, Mrs. Chrysler gave her a nudge, and the two of them ambled stealthily into the fray.
“Active Adult Living Community,” Katherine said distractedly after a while. “No one in here seems very active, Imogene.”
“Mmm. Or living.”
They strolled casually through the mostly dozing throng, with the cats not far behind.
There’s something wrong here, Ember said, looking around. The people here don’t seem very happy.
No, indeed, Mr. Scruffles answered, picking his way among throw pillows and fuzzy slippers on the floor. I wouldn’t be, either. So dull and stuffy.
And far too many rocking chairs, added Tilly, dodging the sway from yet another as she trotted to keep up with her mistress.
A soft voice caught Ember’s attention, and she glanced up to spot the eager face of an old woman outstretching shaky hands to her. She gave the woman’s fingertips a gentle rub against her cheek and the trembling immediately steadied.
After a time, Mrs. Chrysler yawned. “I think we’ve found out what we wanted to know, Katty.” Her gaze took in the whole room, gently humming with snores and light chatter. “This place gives me the willies.”
“Yes,” Katherine said. “I’m starting to feel a bit drowsy myself.” She suppressed a yawn of her own and rubbed her glazing eyes. “Give me just another moment or two.”
“Well, hunch over a little more. One of those staffers is giving us a funny look.”
“Mmm.” Katherine tried to appear a little less purposeful and continued her meandering tour. After a while, she shrugged and muttered, “All right, I’ve seen enough, Imogene. Let’s head back the way we came.”
“Um, and which way was that?”
Katherine gazed around. All of the hallways exiting the common room now seemed disquietingly similar. And their path had not been a straight one; they’d had to make so many twists and turns to navigate the various outstretched limbs and furniture. “Drat. Well, just pick one.”
“That rocker looks familiar.”
“There’s a hundred rockers in here.”
“There are fewer staff near that corridor.”
“Well, then, that’s the winner.”
They rounded the corner of a cluttered card table and were well on their way to clearing the crowd completely when a singular voice rose above the burbling din. It was muffled, as if emanating from beneath a mound of blankets. “Caterina?”
Katherine paused and looked around herself. There were dozens of women here. Any of them might have been named Caterina. She and Mrs. Chrysler kept walking.
“Caterina… Hornsboggle?”
Now Katherine froze in her tracks. She turned to Mrs. Chrysler, whose horrified expression was likely a mirror of her own. Who could possibly know her here? Was it a nun?
“Um, hello?” Katherine ventured uncertainly, turning her head slowly to find the speaker.
“Caterina! It is you,” the voice rejoiced, still thickly dampened.
Mrs. Chrysler looked past Katherine’s shoulder, and pointed.
“I think it’s coming from over there,” she whispered.
She directed her friend’s gaze to a high-backed, overstuffed chair from which something was shakily rising from under a pile of quilts.
Slowly, sheets of blanket began to fall away, revealing a slight old man in a threadbare blue bathrobe.
His papery skin was nearly translucent, but his blue eyes were bright and eager.
He shuffled toward them, gesticulating enthusiastically.
“Caterina Hornsboggle!”
“Hey, keep it down,” Katherine said, checking to see whether anyone had taken notice. They hadn’t. “Who are you?”
“You don’t recognize me? Nonsense! You’d never forget a face.” He winked at her.
“Saint Percival’s ghost.” In a nanosecond, Katherine’s memory telescoped back over forty years—to the first and only other time she’d seen this man, to that crystalline moment in the rain when he’d winked at her, to the too many nights she’d spent thinking about it afterward—then snapped to the present with a twang. “It’s you,” she breathed.
“Who?” asked Mrs. Chrysler.
“You’re the Merchants Lane thief.”
“What?” Mrs. Chrysler turned from Katherine to the man and back again, as Katherine herself reeled from the sting of recognition.
Then understanding clearly dawned on her friend’s face.
Mrs. Chrysler grabbed the ragged lapels of the robe and began to shake the man, slowly at first, then vigorously, like an intensifying earthquake.
“You cost me a lot of money, you horse’s behind!
” she said. “And made me suffer the Disappointment of nuns!”
“Imogene, Imogene, stop!” Katherine said.
The old man was losing his balance, and a couple of drooping heads had lifted curiously.
A patrolling staffer seemed to be heading their way.
“If you want to throttle him senseless”—she paused to address the man, adding, “and I’m not entirely against it” in a low voice—“let’s do it outside. ”
“Great. You want to take this outside, buddy?”
“Outside? Yes!”
Mrs. Chrysler let go, and the man steadied himself, righting his glasses. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re here.” His eyes softened as he turned to Katherine. “It’s so good to see you. I never get visitors. And I haven’t been outside in ages.” He reached eagerly for Katherine’s hand. “Let’s go, let’s go.”
“We are not visiting you,” Mrs. Chrysler said, swatting his hand away protectively.
Katherine thrust her own hands in her pockets. “That’s right,” she said. “We came all the way here to clean up your mess.”
“My mess?”
“Is there an echo in here?” Mrs. Chrysler prodded an accusing finger against the man’s shriveled chest. “You kept us from keeping a contract. Over forty years ago.”
“Ow. What? That doesn’t sound right. I merely won, is all.”
Mrs. Chrysler growled and took him by the elbow. “Let’s make for the door, Katty,” she said.
Hope bloomed afresh on the man’s face, smoothing out the wrinkles.
“Yes, yes! I’m so glad you’ve come. I haven’t seen any familiar faces since my nephew dumped me in here.
I’ve tried escaping, but, you know, they’re faster than I am.
” He indicated some staffers who were purposefully drifting in their direction, like malicious icebergs.
“Well, this may be your lucky day, friend,” Mrs. Chrysler said. “There are some nuns I really want you to meet.”
“Oh, that would be nice. I like meeting new people.”