Hex by Laurence M. Janifer (best historical fiction books of all time .txt) 📗
- Author: Laurence M. Janifer
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He blinked. "You really believe that, don't you?"
"Of course I do," she said.
"But—" He shrugged. "O.K. O.K. I just wanted to know."
The door closed behind him. Gloria felt a little relieved. If matters had gone on the way they'd threatened, why, she might have had to change Harold Meedy's mind for him. Not that it would have done him any harm, but ... well, she just didn't like doing that sort of thing for purely personal reasons.
She was glad she hadn't had to tamper with him at all.
And now it was over, and she could forget about it. Humming under her breath, she put her beret on at last, and gave the stack of folders a pat to keep them absolutely neat, before she left the office.
She still felt a little sad about leaving on time, when there was so much work to be done. But tomorrow, she told herself, she would be able to get back to helping people. Tomorrow—
Tomorrow.
Ten minutes to nine, and Gloria put her beret away, reached for the first folder—and froze.
A second later the door opened. Gloria looked up and smiled helpfully. "Mrs. Wladek," she said. "Is there anything I can do for you? This isn't your day for—"
"It is not my day," Mrs. Wladek said. She closed the door behind her. "This, I know. But I am here. Does this mean anything to you?"
Gloria forced her face to remain expressionless. "Can I help you in any way?" she said. "Is there anything I can do?"
"You?" Mrs. Wladek barked. "You have done enough. I am not here to see you. But your supervisor, your boss—him, I will see."
"My supervisor?" Gloria looked round. "He isn't here yet."
"He will be here later?"
"Of course he will," Gloria said.
Mrs. Wladek sat down in a chair next to Gloria's desk. "I will wait," she announced. "And you should know that there is nothing you can do to me now." She reached into her bag and brought out a small wooden cross she had brought with her from the old country. She waved it at Gloria wildly.
"Do anything to you? What do you mean, Mrs. Wladek?"
"Hah," Mrs. Wladek said. "You need not pretend with me. This frightens you. No?"
Gloria blinked. "I'm afraid not," she said.
"But ... you are trying to fool me," Mrs. Wladek said. "And I will not be fooled. I wait here for your boss, your supervisor."
There was nothing else to do. "All right," Gloria said.
Everybody stared, of course, but none of the other workers came over to find out why Mrs. Wladek had come in on a day that wasn't her appointment day. With Mrs. Wladek right there, asking questions just wasn't possible. Gloria tried to get some work done, but that wasn't possible either, and she resigned herself at last to sitting quietly and waiting for Mr. Fredericksohn's arrival.
She promised herself she'd make up for the loss of time by taking a shorter lunch hour, and that relieved her mind a little. But she did hope Mr. Fredericksohn would be early.
Thankfully, he was. At nine twenty-five exactly, the door opened and Mr. Fredericksohn entered. He glanced once round the office, saw Mrs. Wladek and went on. A second later he stopped.
He didn't have a chance to say anything. Mrs. Wladek was at his side. "I must see you at once," she said. "I must see you alone, at once."
He stared at her. "Miss Scott here, I'm sure, can—"
"It is about Miss Scott that I want to talk to you," Mrs. Wladek hissed.
Mr. Fredericksohn glanced at Gloria. She busied herself with papers. At last he said: "Come with me," and led Mrs. Wladek down the aisle into his private office. The door closed.
Ten minutes passed and the door opened. Mr. Fredericksohn's head projected. "Miss Scott," he said. "May I see you for a minute?"
The curiosity in the office was almost a solid pressure, but Gloria paid it no attention. She said: "Certainly," put away the folder she had been consulting, and went in.
There, at the side of Mr. Fredericksohn's desk, Mrs. Wladek was sitting, looking determined, grim and baffled all at once. Gloria stood in front of the desk and Mr. Fredericksohn seated himself behind it, the large open window at his back.
"Yes, Mr. Fredericksohn?" Gloria said.
"I have told him all," Mrs. Wladek said. "All. Everything. Total."
"Er ... yes," Mr. Fredericksohn said. He faced Gloria resolutely. "Mrs. Wladek has said something about a ... about a spell. Do you know what she might be talking about? Something you said, some impression you gave her—"
"A spell?" Gloria shook her head. "I can't think how she got that idea," she said calmly.
"You do not fool him," Mrs. Wladek said. "He knows. I have told him all."
"Certainly," Mr. Fredericksohn murmured. "But perhaps some little thing—"
"My report will be ready in an hour," Gloria said. "But I'm sure there was nothing."
Mr. Fredericksohn coughed convulsively. "I suppose not," he said. "I realize this is rather unpleasant for you—"
"I quite understand," Gloria said.
Mrs. Wladek came out of her chair in a single movement and clutched Gloria by the left arm. "What is happening?" she demanded.
Mr. Fredericksohn avoided her eye. "Please sit down," he said. And then, to Gloria: "Miss Scott, if you'll make the call ... you know what I mean?"
"Of course," she said.
"The—" He whispered it: "The hospital?"
"What did you say?" Mrs. Wladek demanded. "What did you tell her?"
Gloria disengaged herself and went to the door. As she shut it behind her she could hear Mrs. Wladek's voice, rising to a crescendo of threats and abuse, and Mr. Fredericksohn's calm, scholarly attempts to stem the tide. She almost smiled.
Then she went to her own desk and picked up the telephone.
Actually, she told herself, matters had worked out for the best. Rudi had a job, and would grow into a fully functioning member of society. Mrs. Wladek would not be on the relief rolls any longer.
And what Mrs. Wladek wanted—a place to live, and someone to take care of her—would certainly be provided for her.
Yes, everything had worked out for the best. And, next time, she'd be able to handle a situation like Mrs. Wladek's with less trouble. Gloria looked into the future—into a long series of days and weeks, helping people, getting them to do what was best for them. Oh, sometimes they wouldn't like it right away, but you had to expect that. What was best for them—
Gloria smiled to herself quietly, and dialed a number.
On the second ring, a voice said: "Bellevue Admitting."
"We'd appreciate your sending an ambulance and attendants right away," Gloria said. "For the psychiatric wards."
THE END
End of Project Gutenberg's Hex, by Laurence Mark Janifer (AKA Larry M. Harris)
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