Read Online Raising Demons by Shirley Jackson - Free Book Online Page B

disconnected, and Laurie went around and in the downstairs back and reported, shouting through the kitchen wall, that that phone had been disconnected, too. Then he went out and up to the upstairs back, where
that
phone had been disconnected, and around and up to the upstairs front, and of course that phone had been disconnected, too. Barry was still in the car, in his car bed, and so were the coin collection, the typewriters, the picnic hamper, and the box with Ninki and her five kittens. I got into the car and drove down to the railroad station where there was a pay phone. I looked up the number of the E. J. Cobb Storage and Transfer Company, and when I got Mr. Cobb on the phone I said well, here we were, and was our furniture on the way over?
    Mr. Cobb was quiet for a minute, and then he gave a little silly laugh. “Look,” he said, “I certainly do hope that you’re not going to be sore at me or anything.”
    â€œWhy on earth should I be sore at you or anything?” I asked. “I only called to find out about the furniture.”
    Mr. Cobb laughed the silly little laugh again. “I know how you ladies all like to have things arranged just so,” he said. “My wife—”
    â€œ
My
furniture.”
    â€œWell,” said Mr. Cobb. “See, the men got the small truck all loaded for you. All ready. That truck could roll right now.”
    There was a long silence. Finally Mr. Cobb started all over again. “I know how you ladies like to have everything just so,” he said. “I just hope you’re not going to be sore at me.”
    â€œI think after all I
am
going to be sore at you,” I said.
    â€œMostly,” Mr. Cobb said in an aggrieved tone, “mostly, people are always rushing you and telling you to be sure and certainly get their furniture right there and ready to roll at exactly a certain time. And then mostly those same people don’t even bother to be there or anything.
Mostly
, you can figure if you deliver the furniture on the day they say, why, there won’t even be anyone there to sign for it. That’s just the way it goes,” he finished brightly.
    â€œI suppose it is,” I said. “Now, about our furniture. Right now we don’t even have a place to sit down, so if you could—”
    â€œI could send over a bench or something,” Mr. Cobb said.
    The operator cut in, to say that my three minutes were up, and I could hear Mr. Cobb’s phone hang up emphatically. I had to go to the ticket agent to get change, and when I came back I had to look up the number of the E. J. Cobb Storage and Transfer Company again, and this time the phone was answered by a female voice. I told her who I was and asked for Mr. Cobb.
    â€œI’m sorry,” she said. “Mr. Cobb is out of town.”
    â€œHe was there just a minute ago.”
    She turned away from the phone and spoke to someone. “—had to hurry—” a voice said indistinctly in the background. “I’m sorry,” she said into the phone again. “Mr. Cobb has just left for Philadelphia. He was in a great rush to catch his train. What?” she said off the phone. “Oh. He probably won’t be back before Thursday,” she said to me.
    â€œI see,” I said. “Well, I don’t really want Mr. Cobb in any case. I want my furniture.”
    â€œI’m sorry,” she said. “If it’s furniture you want, you will have to speak to the foreman.”
    â€œThen let me speak to the foreman,” I said.
    â€œJust a minute,” she said, “I’ll see if he’s in. Freddie,” she called, off the phone, “you know that load of goods was supposed to be put on yesterday and Ed forgot? You got enough on to go? Well,
you
come and talk to her, then.”
    There was another silence, and then a man’s voice on the phone. “Yeah?” he said.
    â€œWhat about my furniture? It was