Free Worst Fears by Fay Weldon Page B

Moebius. And he told her that someone you didn’t want to see might well increase the heartbeat, and a simple increase could indeed be enough to trigger an infarction. She should think of the many middle-aged men who died when getting up to make an after-dinner speech; or in the middle of sexual congress. He asked when the funeral was, and said he would do his best to get there. Ned had been a charming man, and an excellent patient. That is to say, he seldom came to the surgery. It might have been better if he had come. His blood pressure might have been high for years but no one would know now.
    Alexandra said the day of the funeral had not yet been decided.
    “Don’t leave it too long,” said Dr. Moebius. “An overnight stay at a morgue can cost as much as a five-star hotel. Am I being too practical? I’m sorry.”
    “That’s okay,” said Alexandra.
    Dr. Moebius asked when Alexandra was going back to work. She said a week today. He was shocked and said she’d need more time than that—and wasn’t there the child to think about? Alexandra said too much thought might be counter-productive: she did not know yet what her financial position was going to be: time off for widowhood might prove an impossible luxury. “Surely—” said Dr. Moebius.
    “Surelys went out the windows years back,” said Alexandra. “These days we all do what we have to, not what it would be nice to do if we could.” She asked if Jenny Linden had been in the house when he was called in on the Sunday morning, and Dr. Moebius said that was so, apparently she’d turned up to walk the dog and found Ned dead—”
    “Abbie found him dead,” said Alexandra.
    “Oh yes, of course,” said Dr. Moebius. “The one who runs the language school. She was there as well. She’s very careful, very responsible. But Mrs. Linden was particularly distressed and made quite a nuisance of herself.” He’d given her a sedative and she’d left. If Mrs. Ludd happened to see her, would she ask Mrs. Linden to drop by to see him? She might find herself suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder.
    “Why should she?” asked Alexandra. “She’s not exactly family. Just an acquaintance.”
    “She’s very sensitive,” said Dr. Moebius. “We are not all made of stone.” Meaning I am? wondered Alexandra, detecting censure in his voice. She told herself not to be paranoic. Dr. Moebius said he had to make an emergency visit to the language school and brought the conversation to an end.
    Alexandra called Abbie and told her she’d broken into Jenny’s home and how she’d found a shrine to Ned there, and how eerie it was. Abbie said she thought Alexandra had gone mad doing such a thing, but she, Abbie, couldn’t come now because the doctor had given the student an injection earlier, and the lad was now reacting to that far worse than to the suspected wasp sting, which had probably never happened, and she’d had to ask the doctor to visit yet again. Should she ask Vilna to go over to The Cottage, if Alexandra was upset?
    “No,” said Alexandra. “I’m just fine, thank you.” Then she asked Abbie if in Abbie’s opinion Ned and Jenny had ever had an affair. Abbie shrieked down the phone and said, “Why should Ned look at anyone else when he had you?”
    “He looked at Vilna,” said Alexandra, “according to Vilna.”
    “Vilna’s like that,” said Abbie. “Hopelessly Balkan. She thinks every man’s a sexual vampire. Take no notice. What does it matter anyway, Alexandra? Ned’s dead. Over. Don’t these things fade into perspective?”
    “Actually no,” said Alexandra. “They don’t seem to. Since I can’t discuss the matter with Ned, or ever have any explanation from him, let alone excuses, or any resolution to do better in future or any apology, and since there is no way more recent times could ever push back past times into irrelevancy, why then no forgiveness is possible. I can’t play both sides of the argument on this matter,