A Nest of Nightmares

Ellen looked at her aunt and saw that a dying woman shared the room with her. In the face of that solemn, unarguable fact, she could think of nothing to say. So they sat in silence broken only by the sipping of tea, until the doorbell rang.

‘Would you let him in dear?’ May asked.

‘Shall I pay him?’

‘Oh, no, he doesn’t ask for that. Just let him in.’

Wondering, Ellen opened the door on a strongly built young man holding a brown paper grocery bag in his arms. She put out her arms rather hesitantly to receive it, but he ignored her and walked into the house. He set the bag down in the kitchen and began to unload it. Ellen stood in the doorway watching, noticing that he knew where everything went.

He said nothing to May, who seemed scarcely aware of his presence, but when everything had been put away, he sat down at the table in Ellen’s place. He tilted his head on one side and eyed her. ‘You must be the niece,’ he said.

Ellen said nothing. She didn’t like the way he looked at her. His dark, nearly black eyes seemed to be without pupils – hard eyes, without depths. And he ran those eyes up and down her body, judging her. He smiled now at her silence and turned to May. ‘A quiet one,’ he said.

May stood up, holding her empty cup.

‘Let me,’ Ellen said quickly, stepping forward. May handed her the cup and sat down again, still without acknowledging the young man’s presence. ‘Would you like some breakfast?’ Ellen asked.

May shook her head. ‘You eat what you like, dear. I don’t feel much like eating . . . there doesn’t seem to be much point.’

‘Oh, Aunt May, you really should have something.’

‘A piece of toast, then.’

‘I’d like some eggs,’ said the stranger. He stretched lazily in his chair. ‘I haven’t had my breakfast yet.’

Ellen looked at May, wanting some clue. Was this presumptuous stranger her friend? A hired man? She didn’t want to be rude to him if May didn’t wish it. But May was looking into the middle distance, indifferent.

Ellen looked at the man. ‘Are you waiting to be paid for the groceries?’

The stranger smiled, a hard smile that revealed a set of even teeth. ‘I bring food to your aunt as a favour. So she won’t have to go to the trouble of getting it for herself, in her condition.’

Ellen stared at him a moment longer, waiting in vain for a sign from her aunt, and then turned her back on them and went to the stove. She wondered why this man was helping her aunt – was she really not paying him? He didn’t strike her as the sort for disinterested favours.

‘Now that I’m here,’ Ellen said, getting eggs and butter out of the refrigerator, ‘you don’t have to worry about my aunt. I can run errands for her.’

‘I’ll have two fried eggs,’ he said. ‘I like the yolks runny.’

Ellen glared at him, but realised he wasn’t likely to leave just because she refused to cook his eggs – he’d probably cook them himself. And he had bought the food.

But – her small revenge – she overcooked the eggs and gave him the slightly scorched piece of toast.

When she sat down she looked at him challengingly. ‘I’m Ellen Morrow,’ she said.

He hesitated, then drawled, ‘You can call me Peter.’

‘Thanks a lot,’ she said sarcastically. He smiled his unpleasant smile again, and Ellen felt him watching her eat. As soon as she could she excused herself, telling her aunt she was going to call her father.

That drew the first response of the morning from May. She put out a hand, drawing it back just shy of touching Ellen. ‘Please don’t. There’s nothing he can do for me and I don’t want him charging down here for no good reason.’

‘But, Aunt May, you’re his only sister – I have to tell him, and of course he’ll want to do something for you.’

‘The only thing he can do for me now is to leave me alone.’

Unhappily, Ellen thought that her aunt was right – still, her father must be told. In order to be able to speak freely, she left the kitchen and went back to her aunt’s bedroom where she felt certain there would be an extension.

There was, and she dialled her parents’ number. The ringing went on and on. She gave up, finally, and phoned her father’s office. The secretary told her he’d gone fishing, and would be unreachable for at least two days. She promised to give him a message if he called, or when he returned.

So it had to wait. Ellen walked back towards the kitchen, her crêpe-soled shoes making almost no sound on the floor.

She heard her aunt’s voice, ‘You didn’t come to me last night. I waited and waited. Why didn’t you come?’

Ellen froze.

‘You said you would stay with me,’ May continued. Her voice had a whining note that made Ellen uncomfortable. ‘You promised you would stay and look after me.’

‘The girl was in the house,’ Peter said. ‘I didn’t know if I should.’

‘What does she matter? She doesn’t matter. Not while I’m here, she doesn’t. This is still my house and I . . . I belong to you, don’t I? Don’t I, dearest?’

Then there was a silence. As quietly as she could, Ellen hurried away and left the house.