The Sleeping Partner by Winston Graham Page A

sentence.
    â€˜Still?’ I said. ‘D’you mean already out of bed?’
    â€˜No, still. He’s been ill six or seven months now. I understand he is not likely to last beyond the end of the year.’
    After lunch I got in my car and drove to Raglan Cottage. I thought if I didn’t go right away I shouldn’t go at all.
    When I got there a strange woman opened the door.
    She said: ‘I’m Miss Willis. No, I’m sorry, Mrs Curtis is out. Dr Curtis is in, but I don’t think he’s seeing visitors.’
    â€˜No,’ I said. ‘When will Mrs Curtis—?’
    â€˜That you, Granville?’ came Curtis’s voice from the sitting-room. ‘Come in, will you?’
    There was no escape then. He was sitting in front of the usual fire, but the day was so warm that he had a window open. He was in a dressing-gown and looked like a ghost.
    â€˜Sit down,’ waving the end of an unlighted pipe. ‘Stella’s out shopping. It was good of you to give her an extra day. I think she needs it.’
    I said: ‘Are you better than when I came before?’
    â€˜Oh, better than then.’
    I thought, J. N. Curtis, of course. If I didn’t mistake, he’d been on the War Research Council. Younger then. Younger than I was now.
    â€˜Smoke?’
    â€˜Thanks,’ I said.
    â€˜Do you want to see Stella specially? She’s gone to Chelmsford.’
    â€˜No. It’s not important.’
    â€˜As a matter of fact we’ve had one visitor today – David Thurston, whom you know.’
    â€˜He told me he’d called. I didn’t know you knew each other.’
    â€˜Very little.’
    He began to light his pipe. I got up and passed him the matches.
    He nodded his thanks. ‘ I used to play a lot of tennis,’ he said. ‘This is the weather for it. D’you play?’
    â€˜I haven’t for some years.’
    â€˜Stella’s pretty good. This time last year we used to play two or three evenings a week.’
    â€˜Where was that?’ I asked, groping for words.
    â€˜In Cambridge. Perhaps you’d give her a game sometime. She tells me there are courts at the other end of the town.’
    â€˜Yes,’ I said. I couldn’t stay here any longer.
    â€˜Before you go,’ he said, seeing my movement, ‘I rather wanted to say sorry for shoving my views down your throat that evening.’
    â€˜I didn’t notice it,’ I said, flushing. ‘Anyway if there was any shoving done … you were at liberty to do it.’
    He smiled slightly. ‘One has too many hours to brood, that’s the trouble.’
    I said: ‘I’ve got to tell you that Stella never told me who you were. I hadn’t the ghost of an idea until Thurston told me this afternoon. I’m still buried under the debris.’
    â€˜It’s my fault Stella doesn’t tell people. The fewer who know …’
    â€˜But I mean merely your identity—’ I stopped.
    â€˜And not my illness? Well, one goes with the other doesn’t it? I don’t want to feel like Charles the Second.’
    I got up to knock my ash off, and stayed up. ‘ These last few minutes I’ve tried to see myself in your place …’
    â€˜It’s always a useful exercise.’
    â€˜This thing you’ve got. What does it amount to?’
    â€˜My anaemia? An excess of white blood corpuscles. Very undramatic.’
    â€˜And what can be done about it?’
    â€˜One makes one’s will. One loses one’s fear of growing old.’
    â€˜Because of doing things with radioactive materials?’
    He shook his head. ‘I took a few chances. But that’s no proof at all. It’s only a theory.’
    â€˜Whose theory?’
    â€˜A medical theory.’
    â€˜Which happens to be true?’
    He shrugged. ‘We don’t know enough about it. All we know is that we get a higher incidence of