The Stories of John Cheever

She was about thirty-five years old, dissipated and gentle. She liked to think of the life she was living as an overture to something wonderful, final, and even conventional, that would begin with the next season or the season after that, but she was finding this hope more and more difficult to sustain. She had begun to notice that she always felt tired unless she was drinking. It was just that she didn’t have the strength. When she was not drinking she was depressed, and when she was depressed she quarreled with headwaiters and hairdressers, accused people in restaurants of staring at her, and quarreled with some of the men who paid her debts. She knew this instability in her temperament well, and was clever at concealing it—among other things—from casual friends like the Tennysons.

Renée had come to the house again a week later, and when Deborah heard her voice, she escaped from Mrs. Harley and flew down the hall. The child’s adoration excited Renée. They sat together again. Renée wore a string of furs and a hat piled with cloth roses, and Deborah thought her the most beautiful lady in the world.

After that, Renée went to the Tennysons’ often. It was a standing joke that she came there to see the child and not the Tennysons or their guests. Renée had always wanted children of her own, and now all her regrets seemed centered in Deborah’s bright face. She began to feel possessive toward the child. She sent her expensive clothes and toys. “Has she ever been to the dentist?” she asked Katherine. “Are you sure of your doctor? Have you entered her in nursery school?” She made the mistake one night of suggesting that Deborah saw too little of her parents and lacked the sense of security they should give her. “She has eight thousand dollars in the bank in her own name,” Katherine said. She was angry. Renée continued to send Deborah elaborate presents. Deborah named all her dolls and her pleasures after Renée, and on several nights she cried for Renée after she had been put to bed. Robert and Katherine thought it would be better if they didn’t see Renée any more. They stopped asking her to the house. “After all,” Katherine said, “I’ve always felt that there was something unsavory about that girl.” Renée called them twice and asked them for cocktails, and Katherine said no, no thanks, they were all suffering with colds.