The Collected Stories

‘We have much to be thankful for.’

‘I’m sure you deserve it all.’

Mr Dutt had become quite maudlin by the time he delivered Miss Efoss at her flat. She wondered if he was drunk. He pressed her hand warmly and announced that he looked forward to their next meeting. ‘Any time,’ Miss Efoss said as she stepped from the car. ‘Just ring me up. I am often free.’

After that, Miss Efoss babysat for the Dutts many times. They became more and more friendly towards her. They left her little bowls of chocolates and drew her attention to articles in magazines that they believed might be of interest to her. Mr Dutt suggested further words she might care to look up in the Encyclopaedia and Mrs Dutt wrote out several of her recipes.

One night, just as she was leaving, Miss Efoss said: ‘You know, I think it might be a good idea for me to meet Mickey some time. Perhaps I could come in the daytime once. Then I would no longer be a stranger and could comfort him if he woke.’

‘But he doesn’t wake, Miss Efoss. He has never woken, has he? You have never had to telephone us.’

‘No. That is true. But now that I have got to know you, I would like to know him as well.’

The Dutts took the compliment, smiling at one another and at Miss Efoss. Mr Dutt said: ‘It is kind of you to speak like this, Miss Efoss. But Mickey is rather scared of strangers. Just at present at any rate, if you do not mind.’

‘Of course not, Mr Dutt.’

‘I fear he is a nervous child,’ Mrs Dutt said. ‘Our present arrangement is carefully devised.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Miss Efoss said.

‘No need. No need. Let us all have a final brandy,’ Mr Dutt said cheerfully.

But Miss Efoss was sorry, for she feared she had said something out of place. And then for a week or so she was worried whenever she thought of the Dutts. She felt they were mistaken in their attitude about their child; and she felt equally unable to advise them. It was not her place to speak any further on the subject, yet she was sure that to keep the child away from people just because he was nervous of them was wrong. It sounded as though there was a root to the trouble somewhere, and it sounded as though the Dutts had not attempted to discover it. She continued to babysit for them about once every ten days and she held her peace. Then, quite unexpectedly, something happened that puzzled Miss Efoss very much indeed.

It happened at a party given by some friends of hers. She was talking about nothing in particular to an elderly man called Summerfield. She had known him for some years but whenever they met, as on this occasion, they found themselves with little to say beyond the initial courteous greetings. Thinking that a more direct approach might yield something of interest, Miss Efoss, after the familiar lengthy silence, said: ‘How are you coping with the advancing years, Mr Summerfield? I feel I can ask you, since it is a coping I have to take in my own stride.’

‘Well, well, I think I am doing well enough. My life is simple since my wife died, but there is little I complain of.’

‘Loneliness is a thing that sometimes strikes at us. I find one must regard it as the toothache or similar ailment, and seek a cure.’

‘Ah yes. I’m often a trifle alone.’

‘I babysit, you know. Have you ever thought of it? Do not shy off because you are a man. A responsible person is all that is required.’

‘I haven’t thought of babysitting. Not ever, I think. Though I like babies and always have done.’

‘I used to do quite a lot. Now I have only the Dutts, but I go there very often. I enjoy my evenings. I like to see the TV now and again and other people’s houses are interesting.’

‘I know the Dutts,’ said Mr Summerfield. ‘You mean the Dutts in Raeburn Road? A small, weedy couple?’

‘They live in Raeburn Road, certainly. They are small too, but you are unkind to call them weedy.’

‘I don’t particularly mean it unkindly. I have known Dutt a long time. One takes liberties, I suppose, in describing people.’

‘Mr Dutt is an interesting person. He holds some responsible position of intriguing secrecy.’

‘Dutt? 25 Raeburn Road? The man is a chartered accountant.’

‘I feel sure you are mistaken –’

‘I cannot be mistaken. The man was once my colleague. In a very junior capacity.’

‘Oh, well… then I must be mistaken.’

‘What surprises me is that you say you babysit for the Dutts. I think you must be mistaken about that too.’

‘Oh no, I am completely certain about that. It is for that reason that I know them at all.’

‘I cannot help being surprised. Because, Miss Efoss – and of this I am certain – the Dutts have no children.’

Miss Efoss had heard of the fantasy world with which people, as they grow old, surround themselves. Yet she could not have entirely invented the Dutts in this way because Mr Summerfield had readily agreed about their existence. Was it, then, for some other reason that she visited them? Did she, as soon as she entered their house, become so confused in her mind that she afterwards forgot the real purpose of her presence? Had they hired her in some other capacity altogether? A capacity she was so ashamed of that she had invented, even for herself, the euphemism of babysitting? Had she, she wondered, become some kind of servant to these people – imagining the warm comfortable room, the sherry, the chocolates, the brandy?

‘We should be back by eleven, Miss Efoss. Here is the telephone number.’ Mrs Dutt smiled at her and a moment later the front door banged gently behind her.