The Nanny (23 page)

“It isn't the way it looks,” she repeated, to him, to her husband, to the whole world. “I know it isn't! You're wrong!”

Dr. Meducca's glance at the husband meant that the two of them were on one side (the side of reason) and she on the other, mother of faith, madonna. “Then tell me how it could have happened? You saw the ropes. You saw the pillow. There was no light in the room.”

“This is my child,” she said. “He's
eight.”

And that was it in a nutshell, of course, that said it all:
This is my child
. But he must not tell her now that it was not her child, the devil's child, his daughter's little brother. If she guessed his hatred she would not permit the child to go downstairs with him. “What's the point?” he asked her. “I'm not going to convince you and you're not going to convince me. This is a police matter now.”

“No!”

“After I call the police, you call your psychiatrist, Mrs. Fane, and he'll protect the boy. Believe me, I know. He'll protect your boy, only the police first. The police have to come first.”

“No, don't,” she said, half clawing, half fawning on him. “If you call the police the way it looks, they'll think what you think. I can see that. Joey's been through so much. If they begin by accusing him of—of what it looks like—they will!” she said. “They mustn't! Victor,” she said, pleading, “don't let him call the police.”

“He has to, Virgie darling. Don't you see, darling? He has to.”

The husband was no good to her so she wiped him out. (Hadn't Lucy done the same to him when he had given up and she wasn't ready to? If he wasn't for Roberta, he was against her, Lucy. It was new to the husband, he could see that, but old stuff to him. Like Lucy, this one now had no use for the husband, would do it alone.) “Oh, look at her now,” he said to himself. “She's got something. Now what?”

“If you call the police, Dr. Meducca, I'll tell them what your daughter did to me. If you don't, I won't ever tell anyone. Dr. Meducca, if I tell them what she did in your office, no one will ever come to you again. I'll tell reporters! You'll never have another patient!”

“Look at her,” he urged the husband silently, wanting him to know once and for all that he had never seen this girl before. The husband got it. His expression indicated that this was a stranger to him. Dr. Meducca said, “That's blackmail, Mrs. Fane.”

“Then it's blackmail!”

“Virgie!”

“Don't think I won't, Victor! I will! I will!”

And she would, of course. Blackmail was nothing, just the first step down to where defending her little psychopath would take her if he gave the boy the chance. Which he wasn't going to. Dr. Meducca just shook his head and walked out of the kitchen towards the telephone, but she was there first.

She whispered, “Wait. We'll ask Joey. Wait.”

“Virgie, do you really want to? Is this wise, darling? Think it over, darling.”

“It's better than his way and I don't need to think it over.”

She started for the sofa, but he blocked her way. “You really want him up?”

“I want to hear what really happened.”

Wanted to hear his lie, didn't know the expertness of it, the cleverness which would later turn her stomach when she got to recognize it. “Oh, it will be good,” he told himself, going back to the kitchen, where he wet a towel at the sink, wrung it out and brought it to her. “This will wake him up.”

It was heartbreaking to watch the tenderness with which she laid the cold cloth across the boy's forehead, and to hear her voice repeating the boy's name.

“It's Mommy, Joey. Joey, it's Mommy.”

And then when he woke it was with a smile because the first thing he saw was his mother bending over him. His smile was no sweeter than Roberta's had been.

“See, Daddy's here, too, darling, and do you remember Dr. Meducca, Joey? He took good care of us in the hospital and now he—he brought us back home. From the hospital, darling. This is my hospital outfit. Like it, Joey?”

This was so he wouldn't be alarmed at her strange get-up, the long white office coat and the towel turban; but the boy didn't care about that and sat upright, still now, frowning.

“Where is
she
, Mommy?”

Virgie said quickly, “She's gone, Joey.” Her glance dared her husband to be more specific.

Fane had to dare. He said, “Nanny is dead, Joey.”

The boy nodded calmly.
All the horror is in just this, that there is no horror
.

“You wouldn't believe me,” Joey said to him. “Now you know, don't you?”

“Know what, darling?” She pushed his hair, wet from the towel, back from his forehead, but he pulled her hand down.

“Now he knows
she
tried to drown me. Now he knows I'm not a liar. Now she knows, too!”

She was kissing the back of his hand. “Who knows too, Joey?”

“The lady. The one who slept in your bed.”

“He means the English lady.”

“Mrs. Gore-Green, Virgie.”

Joey said to Dr. Meducca, “You ask her. Go on. She knows now.”

“What does she know?”

“She saw
her
, that's what!”

“Saw the nursemaid trying to drown you, you mean?”

“No, and you know she didn't see that. She told you she didn't. She saw she was going to smother me,” Joey said simply. “She saw her in the kitchen. I was in bed and the lady came in the kitchen and she saw
her
going to smother me, so then she knew I wasn't no liar!”

“If you were in bed how do you know what the lady saw?”

“Because she
said!
She said, ‘You're going to smother him with the pillow. You
did
try to drown him,' she said. Then she lighted with her, in the kitchen. I heard. She wouldn't let her smother me, so she fighted
her
. Didn't she tell you, Mommy?”

“No, she didn't yet, darling.”

Mr. Fane said soberly, “You tell us, Joey.”

“Okay. I heard them in the kitchen,
her
and the lady. I heard them through the door. The lady came in and she saw that
she
was going to smother me.” He realized that his mother was puzzled. “Mommy, the lady saw
her
in the kitchen with a pillow.”

“How do you know she had a pillow?”

“She said it, that's how I know! The lady knew
she
wasn't supposed to come in my room with nothing and
she
was coming in with a pillow. I told her to swear. I said to her, ‘Swear you'll keep out. Keep out. I don't want
nothing!'
I wouldn't let
her
touch nothing in my room. The lady saw. She was a witness.”

“Mrs. Gore-Green knew you didn't want the pillow?”

“She knew. She said, ‘You're going to smother him!'”

“Oh, Joey! Oh, Joey!”

“That's what she said, Mommy. ‘I won't let you,' she said and then they fighted. The lady fighted
her
so
she
wouldn't. I heard them.” He made snuffling noises through his nose. “They were fighting and then I think they fell down.” He hit the sofa cushion with both hands, then with his feet substituted the noise of them coming down on the floor as more appropriate. “Then like this—” he began breathing in imitation of Mrs. Gore-Green—stop, shallow, shallow, deeper, deeper, stop.

“Cheyne Stokes,” Dr. Meducca said. “I'll bet she did!”

“Go ask her,” Joey said. “She'll tell you herself.”

Mrs. Fane didn't know yet the Englishwoman was dead, but Fane did, so he said, “What happened after that, Joey?”

“They went away, Daddy, and then I guess I fell asleep.”

“Joey—you fell asleep with all that—with all that—?”

“I was sleepy, boy! I pinched myself, but I guess I fell asleep.”

“Did you take your pills, darling?”

“I did not. I wouldn't!” He reached into his pajama pocket and took out a small bottle, counted. “See, there's five.”

“You said he was drugged,” Virgie said. “Someone did it Give the doctor those pills, Joey.”

He took the bottle she asked him to. So there were five, that didn't mean he had been doped so he could be smothered, only that he wanted to give the impression. So what?

“You fell asleep, darling.…”

“See, I didn't know who won the fight, and I couldn't go see because I was only safe in bed.”

“Why were you safe there, Joey?”

“I had my rope up.” He scrambled off the sofa. “I'll show you.”

“No, no, Joey! Tell us.”

The boy caught the distress in her voice. “You tell Mommy, Daddy. It's the
law!
You got a
right
to defend yourself. Dr. Bee said you got a
right
to defend yourself. Dr. Bee was glad when I hit Ernest because he hit me first and that's self-defense. That was a Red Letter Day and it's the law. Like they put up signs: ‘Enter at your own risk.' I made
her
swear not to come in my room for nothing, so
she
entered at
her
own risk!”

Dr. Meducca said, “Let me get this straight. This is your story. You told the nurse you didn't want her coming into your room?”

“I made
her
swear. The lady knows.”

“You made her swear, and then you stretched the rope between the bed and the chest on the other side so if she came in she'd trip over it.”

“That's right.”

Virgie gasped. “Was that what the rope I took away was for, Joey?” He nodded. “Was that why you wanted the little room?”

“You couldn't fix it like that in the big room.
She'd
a got me there, sure.”

Virgie put her hands over her face.

Dr. Meducca took it up. “And you unscrewed the light bulb so she wouldn't see if she came in—so she'd trip over it.”

“It wouldn't work if
she
could see it, would it?”

“No,” he said dryly. “Well,” he said to the mother, “that's his story. You've heard it now.”

Joey could tell that the doctor didn't believe it. “Ask her. Ask her. The lady. Go on.”

“She isn't here.”

“Call her up,” Virgie said. “Call her up! She was here and saw this—call her!”

Dr. Meducca said, “Okay, I'll call her. I'll use the extension in the bedroom.” But even now she didn't give up. She kissed the boy's hand again and laid it down as if it would break and then was after him. She caught up with him just outside the closed door to her bedroom.

“You will call her? Wait, Victor must know the number. I'll ask Victor the number.”

“I'll ask Information,” he said, because the boy could hear him from here, and then he opened the bedroom door, pushed her inside and closed it after her. Again the poor thing threw her hands up over her face. “Yes, this the woman who is to be his witness! She's been dead three to four hours. And that's why he told us she could prove what he did was self-defense.

“She died of acute pulmonary edema. She was a sick woman and knew it, but of course she thought nothing of getting into a fist fight.” Now he breathed through his nose as Joey had done. “He got the Cheyne Stokes breathing correctly, that part's the truth, but that's about all that is.” He went to the telephone thinking, “Enough, enough. I've got to get it over with. I can't stand much more of this.”

“Don't! Don't call the police.”

“Don't start that again.”

“It's what happened. What Joey said happened. It was what happened.”

He pointed. “Prove it by her. Go on. She's his proof. Prove it by her.”

“There will be some proof. You'll see, there will be, but we need time. Dr. Meducca, Dr. Meducca, Victor must call her daughter and tell her. She doesn't know her mother is dead. First let him call and tell her daughter, please, please!”

(This was Lucy. This was his poor Lucy, putting off the moment of judgment, grasping at straws.) “He can call the daughter. This is arsey-versey, the police should know first, but what do I care?” I don't care, he thought. It's no skin off my back.

“Thank you. Oh, thank you. You know what happened with Joey's little brother. You see that if the police come now and—and accuse him—don't believe him—oh, don't you see what will happen to Joey?” She began to sob, tried to stop herself, spoke through sobs. “It will destroy him if they spoil his belief that he did the right thing. He's all right now because he believes he did the right thing! You heard him, Doctor! ‘It's the
law!
Dr. Bee says.' Oh, my God, Dr. Meducca, if they make Joey believe he is a
murderer
, it would be better if she had smothered him. I'd rather she had, really, really!”

So, since he didn't give a damn, they did it her way. First he called the M.E., and since he had seen the woman earlier that day and would write out the death certificate, the M.E. said an autopsy wouldn't be necessary, not with a cardiac history like that. Then Mr. Fane called the dead woman's daughter while she sat guarding the boy.

“Listen to me, Althea. We won't go into that now. I'm not calling about that. Oh, shut up, Althea, and listen!”

It turned out that the Englishwoman had spoken several times about wishing to be cremated and have her ashes taken back to England. Mr. Fane told him that the daughter would like this done as soon as possible because she wanted to go back to England also. So then Dr. Meducca called an undertaker for them. Since the M.E. had waived a post-mortem they could go right ahead.

When Dr. Meducca came back into the big room after instructing the undertaker, he thought he could see the poor distracted mother's mind going round and round on Lucy's treadmill: How can I save my child from the consequences of what he did? How can I prove that all the world is wrong and my child is right? Round and round to nowhere, so this time she couldn't make another attempt to stop him from calling the police. Her husband told her that the doctor would get into trouble if he delayed calling the police any longer and the poor creature gave in.