Read Online Death in Albert Park by Leo Bruce - Free Book Online Page B

contrary aunt and niece were united only in their wish to find a husband for Viola. It was a somewhat old-fashioned situation but nonetheless real to the two women who never discussed it except obliquely.
    Stella Whitehill was short and heavy, yet gave an impression of power as though she had a powerful bony frame under folds of flesh. She had dark quick eyes and wore too much jewelry and her husband feared her. She was not an unkind woman and had tried in a way to do what she felt was her duty towards Viola, but on that evening her reserves fell away and she became an angry primitive who wanted her cave to herself. Perhaps in the stress of events in Crabtree Avenue she had taken to a nip too many of the gin-and-peppermint she liked, perhaps it was a natural fit of exasperation. At all events she spoke outrageously to Viola.
    It was about Stanley Gates, who lived at the lower end of the avenue with his parents. This pleasant pink-faced insurance agent had spoken several times to Viola of late on affairs of the avenue, and this evening, an unusually warm one for March, they had walked through the park together. Stella Whitehill, hearing of this from Viola, said unforgivably—“Well, this time, for goodness sake don’t try to rush him.”
    Viola, flushing furiously, asked “What do you mean ‘this time’?”
    â€œYou know very well what I mean. Give the man a chance to breathe.”
    â€œAunt Stella you …”
    â€œDon’t say it, because you’d be sorry afterwards. I’m only talking for your own good.”
    â€œYou’re being beastly. I don’t ‘rush’ people.”
    â€œWhat about that Captain Greaves? And that poorfellow at Sidmouth? You’ll never get a man if you don’t show some restraint.”
    â€œHow
can
you talk like that? I’ve never …”
    â€œOh yes, you have. And you know it. It’s time I told you this. I’ve watched it over and over again. You behave as though you were desperate. If you are, for God’s sake don’t show it, Viola. It scares a man. It scares me, for that matter.”
    Viola just managed not to cry.
    â€œIt’s all lies,” she said a little hysterically. “Stanley told me this evening …”
    â€œWho is Stanley?”
    â€œStanley Gates. He told me this evening that I was one of the most reserved people he had ever met.”
    Stella gave a nasty chuckle.
    â€œIt’s not a question of reserve. I’m not saying you’re not reserved in a way. It’s something worse than that. You show your cards. You as good as say you’re twenty-seven and unlucky. Not by lack of reserve.”
    â€œHow, then?”
    â€œI don’t know. It’s something in your manner. Just give this man a chance to decide for himself.”
    â€œSo that
you
won’t have to go on keeping me, I suppose?”
    If Viola expected reassuring denials she was disappointed.
    â€œWell, there is that side of it,” said Stella Whitehill. “I’ve never mentioned it before but naturally your uncle and I when you came to live with us thought it would be for five years or so …”
    â€œOh!” cried Viola and burst into tears.
    â€œIt had to be said, sooner or later,” went on Stella philosophically.
    â€œHow
can
you?” cried Viola and grew somewhatincoherent. “After all these years … slaving. I’ve never … Oh, you’re cruel.”
    â€œCruel to be kind,” said Stella. “It’s time you realized. We’re getting on and the time comes when middle-aged people want to be on their own, have their home to themselves.”
    Viola stood up.
    â€œYou shall have your home to yourselves,” she shouted. “Now. This minute. I’ll go and take my things. Tonight. Now.”
    â€œDon’t be silly, Viola. Where will you go?”
    â€œI’ll go to Stanley!”
    â€œTo Stanley? To young Gates?