Page 113 of Disturbing the Dead
“You are too young to be a housemaid, and Mrs. Ballantyne has bigger plans for your future.”
“Bigger plans for my future. That does not mean I cannot be a housemaid now.”
I retreat and wait for them to finish the conversation. Now I understand Alice’s animosity toward Lorna. She’s upset that she wasn’t promoted. Yes, she worries about gossip, too, which is a valid concern.
I recall Annis’s objection to hiring someone who hasn’t had trouble with the law. This is what she must have meant—that Isla’s usual hires are less likely to look askance at their employers’ eccentricities and gossip about them.
Once the conversation winds down, I open and then shut the door louder before clomping down the steps so I cannot be accused of sneaking up.
Alice glowers toward the stairs, until she sees who it is. Then she gives me a very gratifying smile—all the more welcome after my fear she was talking about me.
“You are back,” she says.
“Yes, and I still remember that you owe me a thruppence from last week, when you needed extra money for that new hat at the market, so don’t think you got away without paying me.”
She rolls her eyes, but she relaxes into another smile, too. I don’t give a damn about the thruppence. I’m just proving it’s really me.
Mrs. Wallace hands Alice a plate of rolls for the table. “Off with you now. They are already dining late, and I do not want the roast growing any colder.”
Once Alice is gone, Mrs. Wallace turns to the aforementioned roast, setting it onto the butcher’s block and slicing a few pieces. I wait until she has the roast on the plate and turns to the potatoes.
“So you’re just going to ignore me,” I say.
“No, I am preparing dinner.”
“That’s fine. I can come back afterward, and we’ll talk then.”
“I have dishes to wash.”
“I’ll help. The perfect opportunity for a nice chat about what I said before being strangled.”
“Are you taking back what you said?” She adds carrots to the platter, still not looking my way.
“Nope.”
“Then I do not believe we have anything to discuss.”
“So we would have something to discuss if I rescinded my statement?”
“Only if you are going to tell me the truth.”
“Well, that’s a Catch-22, isn’t it? You’ll only discuss it if I tell you the truth, but I already did tell you the truth, which you refuse to discuss.”
She fishes out a carrot intent on escape.
I continue, “Catch-22. It means a paradox, a situation where you can’t proceed without first having something that you can’t get until you proceed. Taken from the novel of the same name, written by Joseph Heller in the middle of the twentieth century. The book is a satire about war. World War II, specifically, but the title refers to absurd bureaucracy. I can discuss the themes of the book if you like. That’s the peril of having an English-lit prof for a dad. Would you like me to continue?”
She hands me the vegetable platter. “I would like you to take this upstairs.”
“Alrighty then.” I pause. “That’s a phrase used to move past an awkward situation, popularized in the movie Ace Ventura: Pet Detective.”
She pauses and then says, as if in spite of herself, “Pet detective?”
“It’s a comedy. American. Most blockbuster movies—motion pictures—are.”
“Take the vegetables upstairs.”
“You do believe my story. I can tell. If you didn’t, you’d challenge me on it and prove that I’m lying. But if Dr. Gray and Mrs. Ballantyne have accepted it, then you must, too, however difficult it is. Yet you can’t bring yourself to admit you believe me, so you’re going to ignore it and pretend you still think I’m lying. Got it. Taking the vegetables away now. But if you ever want to discuss mid-twentieth-century literature or late-twentieth-century pop culture, I’m your gal.”
