it seemed to be a small pile of sawdust. Looking up the wall, she saw that a strip of wooden molding was riddled with tiny holes, leaking the dust. She wrinkled her nose in distaste: termites. She shook the pillow vigorously and stuffed it into a case, resolving to call her father first thing in the morning. May could not go on living in a place like this.
* * * * *
Sun streaming through the uncurtained window woke her early. She drifted toward consciousness to the cries of seagulls and the all-pervasive smell of the sea.
She got up, shivering from the dampness which seemed to have crept into her bones, and dressed quickly. She found her aunt in the kitchen, sitting at the table sipping a cup of tea.
“There’s hot water on the stove,” May said by way of greeting.
Ellen poured herself a cup of tea and joined her aunt at the table.
“I’ve ordered some groceries,” May said. “They should be here soon, and we can have toast and eggs for breakfast.”
Ellen looked at her aunt and saw that a dying woman shared the room with her. In the face of that solemn, unarguable fact, she could think of nothing to say. So they sat in silence broken only by the sipping of tea, until the doorbell rang.
“Would you let him in, dear?” May asked.
“Shall I pay him?”
“Oh, no, he doesn’t ask for that. Just let him in.”
Wondering, Ellen opened the door on a strongly built young man holding a brown paper grocery bag in his arms. She put out her arms rather hesitantly to receive it, but he ignored her and walked into the house. He set the bag down in the kitchen and began to unload it. Ellen stood in the doorway watching, noticing that he knew where everything went.
He said nothing to May, who seemed scarcely aware of his presence, but when everything had been put away, he sat down at the table in Ellen’s place. He tilted his head on one side and eyed her. “You must be the niece,” he said.
Ellen said nothing. She didn’t like the way he looked at her. His dark, nearly black eyes seemed to be without pupils—hard eyes, without depths. And he ran those eyes up and down her body, judging her. He smiled now at her silence and turned to May. “A quiet one,” he said.
May stood up, holding her empty cup.
“Let me,” Ellen said quickly, stepping forward. May handed her the cup and sat down again, still without acknowledging the young man’s presence. “Would you like some breakfast?” Ellen asked.
May shook her head. “You eat what you like, dear. I don’t feel much like eating…there doesn’t seem to be much point.”
“Oh, Aunt May, you really should have something.”
“A piece of toast, then.”
“I’d like some eggs,” said the stranger. He stretched lazily in his chair. “I haven’t had my breakfast yet.”
Ellen looked at May, wanting some clue. Was this presumptuous stranger her friend? A hired man? She didn’t want to be rude to him if May didn’t wish it. But May was looking into the middle distance, indifferent.
Ellen looked at the man. “Are you waiting to be paid for the groceries?”
The stranger smiled, a hard smile that revealed a set of even teeth. “I bring food to your aunt as a favor. So she won’t have to go to the trouble of getting it for herself, in her condition.”
Ellen stared at him a moment longer, waiting in vain for a sign from her aunt, and then turned her back on them and went to the stove. She wondered why this man was helping her aunt—was she really not paying him? He didn’t strike her as the sort for disinterested favors.
“Now that I’m here,” Ellen said, getting eggs and butter out of the refrigerator, “you don’t have to worry about my aunt. I can run errands for her.”
“I’ll have two fried eggs,” he said. “I like the yolks runny.”
Ellen glared at him, but realized he wasn’t likely to leave just because she refused to cook his eggs—he’d probably cook them himself. And he had bought the food.
But—her small