Free Killing Auntie by Andrzej Bursa Page B

too. Until now on these occasions I always stood with my hands casually clasped behind my back and a blasé expression on my face. But the experience of the last few days cured me of my adolescent arrogance. I bowed my head lightly and clasped my hands in front of me. Toward the end I even made a vague gesture with my right hand. We sat down. The old girls ate with appetite. I excused myself and peeked into the bathroom. The corpse was well covered. When the ladies began to yawn I made a bed for them in the room, and for myself laid a mattress on the kitchen floor. It was hard and uncomfortable.
    â€œOyey! … Yey, yey!…” I heard Aunt Emilia screaming in the bathroom.
    I jumped up and switched the light on. Groping my way through the hallway, I ran to see what happened. Aunt Emilia in her long nightdress was sitting in the bath with her feet high above her head. She was holding a lit candle in one hand while the other hand was making desperate waving movements.
    â€œWho’s here?” she stammered when I appeared in the doorway.
    â€œIt’s me, Auntie,” I said as calmly as I could. “What happened?”
    Aunt Emilia started gibbering again.
    â€œThere is someone lying here …”
    I got scared. Aunt Emilia had discovered the corpse. She had to be killed. If I did it now, while she was still in the bath, I would spare myself the trouble of transporting her corpse. But then I’d have to kill Granny too. Three corpses on one head. No, that would be too much. I took Aunt Emilia’s hand and pulled her out of the bath.
    â€œSomeone’s lying there,” she was shaking with horror. “Jurek, dear, who’s there?”
    Trying to calm her, I carefully examined the bath. The depression indicated the place where the stomach and the lower part of the body lay. I knew the arrangement of my corpse very well and could determine precisely the position of each body part under the sheet. Aunt Emilia had landed on the best-preserved part when she fell in. She had mistaken the bath for the loo. She was still very upset.
    â€œSomeone is lying there … I think … I felt it …” she kept repeating.
    I took the candle out of her hand and bent over the bath.
    â€œBut Auntie,” I explained calmly, “it’s only linen. Look, there …” I carefully unfolded the sheet. I manipulated the candle in such a way so she could not see anything. Emilia was straining her sick eyes. She was calming down. Suddenly, when it seemed the danger was over, the light came on.
    â€œDamn,” I cried out and raised my hand to my eyes as if blinded by the light. At the same time I pushed my elbow into her face, knocking off her glasses. “Oh, I’m so sorry!”
    The bathroom was flooded with light now. Aunt Emilia stood by numbly, rubbing her face. She couldn’t see a thing. I took her gently by the arm and led her away to her bed. On our way we met Granny, who was awakened by the noise in the bathroom. She was wearing a white turban.
    I fell into a heavy uncomfortable sleep, from which I soon awoke. Only now it struck me how much I’d grown used to sharing my loneliness with the corpse. The nocturnal presence of two old women in the house irritated and distracted me. I couldn’t go back to sleep. In the surrounding silence I picked out the slightest noise, barely audible squeaks of the furniture, the hollow, intermittent song of the kitchen tap. As my ears tuned in to those susurrations I could clearly distinguish the breathing of two sleeping women despite being separated from them by two closed doors and a hallway. Then the breathing stopped and changed into whispers. I couldn’t hear the words but the conversation grew louder, the beds squeaked and the room filled with a gentle bustle.
    After a few moments I heard the clanking of plates and cutlery. At first weak and timid, the clanking soon intensified until it sounded as if a noisy