A Little Death by Laura Wilson Page B

the dust sheets pulled off in a heap and the pillows gone from the bed more than likely. Miss Georgina’s always liked pillows. Pillows and cushions, all over the floor, and she had bedspreads and shawls as well, draped all over the place. When I saw that film with Rudolph Valentino,
The Sheik
, it reminded me of Miss Georgina’s room how it looked then. It was downright dangerous, all that stuff lying there on the floor. If you didn’t break your neck on the shawls, you’d trip over a pile of books and come down wallop. But there was nothing I could do. She was in a fair way to being a young lady by that time and I didn’t have charge of her—Mr. Lomax had never said one word to me about her. Mind you, Mr. Lomax never said one word to me at all, not unless he wanted something, and then he’d just go roaring out, scaring me half to death.
    When Mr. Lomax got really bad, he started to wear a silk scarf around his nose and mouth—it looked how they have it in films when they’re going to rob a train only of course they didn’t have the films then. First time I saw it, I said, ‘Is there anything wrong, sir?’ because I thought it must be the drains or something, but he started waving me away, and shouting about infectionsand all sorts. ‘Get away from me!’ That’s what he kept saying: ‘Get away, I know your tricks. I know what you’re up to—keep away from me!’ Well, I don’t know what he was talking about, but it was all part of his hating women the way he did, I’m sure of that, and the alcohol made it worse, made him imagine all sorts of things that weren’t there. I suppose he must have thought an infection would come through his breathing, that was why he was wearing the scarf. After that, he always had the scarf round his neck and he used to put it over his face if he saw me. But I never said nothing. What could I say?
    He’d never let me have this scarf off to wash it—oh, it was the most filthy old thing you’ve ever seen. You wouldn’t have used it to wrap a dead rat in. I don’t know why he bothered with it, because the two of them were so busy barricading themselves in with jumble that you could hardly get from one end of the house to the other. Things, things, things, everywhere! It was like a great river of rubbish flowing through the house, through the rooms, down the stairs… they both used to put things on the stairs. On the ends of the treads it started, next to the wall. Books, plates, trinkets, papers, bottles, gloves, letters, and I wasn’t let to move any of it. It drove me nearly mad, I can tell you! I think it was Miss Georgina started it, but then Mr. Lomax would do it too; some was his and some was hers. Then, of course, there’d be such a great pile grown up that something would slip and the whole lot would come sliding down and crash into the hall. That’s why I say it was like a river, more and more was added, so it had to burst out somewhere, like a flood.
    It was like a parlour game for Miss Georgina—she’d even go lifting stuff from my room and adding it to one of her collections if I didn’t watch her. When Mrs. Mattieleft, I had moved downstairs into the housekeeper’s room, which was a hundred times better than my old room. But what was bad was that Miss Georgina knew where it was and she’d sneak in there while I was working. Sometimes I’d miss my hairbrush or something and then I’d find it perched on the top of a pile somewhere. Well, if I just took it back, she’d spot immediately that it was missing, goodness knows how, and she didn’t like that. She’d get upset and stop eating, or she wouldn’t dress herself properly, so I used to take the brush and show her, and say, ‘Please may I have it back?’ and that was all right—until the next time. Lucky for me I didn’t have a lot to miss. Odds and ends from the kitchen would go as well and that was worse, because I’d be cooking and put my hand out for a pan and—gone! I wish I had a penny