Shock Treatment Read Online Free Page A

thirty years or more.”
    “Well, then, why waste time wishing he were dead? We’re not going to wait for thirty years, are we? You’ve got to ask him for a divorce!”
    “I can’t do it, Terry!” She looked up at me. “How many more times do I have to tell you I can’t possibly leave him.”
    “Of course you can! He has money. He could get a nurse to look after him. How much money do you think he has got?”
    She lifted her shoulders.
    “I don’t know — a lot. A hundred and fifty thousand: perhaps more.”
    Well, then, he can afford to have someone to look after him, and you can have your freedom.”
    She turned away from me.
    “If he died, Terry,” she said in a low, distinct voice, “that money would come to me. You and I would share it. What would you do with a hundred and fifty thousand dollars?”
    “Why talk about it?”
    “Terry, please! I’m asking you! What would you do with all that money?”
    I suddenly began to think what I would do with such a sum if it were mine. The thought sent a creepy sensation up my spine.
    “If I had that amount of capital,” I said, “I could double it in a year. I would open a shop in Los Angeles. I would have three or maybe four service vans covering the whole district. I would specialize in hand-made Hi-Fi sets. I could make a whale of a lot of money.”
    “You would love to do that, wouldn’t you? And I would love to be at your side and see you do it.”
    I stared at her.
    “What’s the sense of talking like this, Gilda? He’s not going to die. You won’t get the money until you are too old to get any fun out of it! So what? Get a divorce! Never mind about the money! Get your freedom!”
    She shook her head.
    “I can’t get a divorce. I can’t help this guilt complex of mine. It was my fault he became a cripple. I can’t leave him now.”
    I drew in a long breath of exasperation.
    “So what do we do?”
    She moved slowly out of the bedroom and into the lounge and I followed her. She paused on the verandah.
    “What do we do, Terry?” she said, not looking at me. “We mustn’t see each other again, that’s what we do. It’s as simple as that. The woman I despise most is the cheat. I have been despising myself ever since we began to make love. We must stop it. It’s the only way. There is no other way. We must stop seeing each other.”
    That gave me a hell of a jolt.
    “Now, look . . .”
    “I mean it, Terry.”
    “Don’t let’s make hasty decisions. We’ll talk about it tomorrow night. This is something . . .”
    “There won’t be a tomorrow night,” she said. “I won’t be coming tomorrow night. This has got to be stopped now.”
    I caught hold of her, but she broke free.
    “No, please, don’t make it harder for me, Terry. You don’t imagine I like this any better than you do, but I know now how wicked I have been and I must stop it. I must go. We mustn’t ever see each other again.”
    There was such despair and truth in her voice that I stepped away from her, a sharp pain at my heart.
    She ran down the verandah steps and across to the garage.
    I remained there, watching her drive away, trying to tell myself that she couldn’t mean what she said, that it was only her conscience bothering her, and that tomorrow night I would see her again.
    But she didn’t come.
    The following night I sat on the verandah waiting for her, and as the hands of my watch moved around to half past twelve, I knew she wouldn’t be coming.
    That made me feel pretty bad.
    The following day was Friday: the day she always went into Glyn Camp to do the week’s shopping.
    I was down there, waiting for her.
    But she didn’t come.
    After a while I began to prowl up and down the main street looking for her, but I didn’t see her.
    Finally, at twelve o’clock, I had to accept the bitter fact that she wasn’t coming, and I headed back to the parking lot feeling depressed enough to cut my throat.
    As I reached the truck, I saw Sheriff Jefferson coming towards