A Family Affair: A Novel of Horror by V. J. Banis Read Free Book Online Page B

to point out that the door had been locked, but her visitor interrupted her before she could mention it.
    â€œHeavens, here I am chattering away with you,” the woman said, “And I haven’t even told you who I am. I am your Aunt Abbie.” She beamed as though this bit of information should make everything quite clear.
    â€œI see,” Jennifer said, and, after a pause, she asked, “If it’s not too rude of me, what on earth are you doing with that vase?”
    â€œWhy, I’m arranging the flowers. They’re from my garden, you know. Aunt Christine says that no one can do as well with flowers as I do.”
    Jennifer looked again at the vase, then slowly about the room. If there were any flowers in the room, they could only be hidden under her bed. For a brief second she almost leaned out of the bed to look under there.
    Now I’m beginning to act as oddly as they do, she chided herself.
    â€œI’m especially pleased with the roses this year,” Aunt Abbie went on proudly, giving a final tug at one of the unseen roses. “I don’t know when I’ve seen such colors. There, I think that will do. I thought that you might appreciate some fresh flowers in your room when you awoke, and Aunt Christine said it would be all right. I hope you don’t mind.”
    Jennifer was on the verge of telling her, manners or no, that she did mind, but again she was interrupted before she could begin.
    â€œI almost forgot, I brought a robe for you,” Aunt Abbie said, pointing to the foot of the bed.
    That much at least was real. There, draped neatly across one corner of the bed was another of the peculiar robes that seemed to be the uniform of the household. Jennifer poked it with her foot.
    â€œThat’s very kind of you,” she replied, making an effort to sound grateful. “But I think I’ll manage with the things I’ve brought. I don’t suppose the caretaker has fetched my luggage yet?”
    â€œWhy, we have no caretaker.”
    Jennifer sighed and spoke as she would speak to a child. “Well, whoever he was, the point is, I would like my luggage. Has anything been done about it?”
    â€œYour luggage?”
    â€œNever mind. I’ll take it up with Aunt Christine,” Jennifer said. This conversation was plainly getting her nowhere. “What time is breakfast?”
    â€œJust as soon as you’re up,” Aunt Abbie said, looking pleased to have finished with the subject of the luggage. “But don’t you rush any now. We’ll be there whenever you’re ready.”
    Jennifer did smile; it was maddening trying to talk to Aunt Abbie, but she was sweet, and she did seem genuinely eager to please. Aunt Abbie went out, closing the door gently after herself.
    When she was alone, Jennifer remembered that she had not asked about the lock, or even about the dinner tray. Things were happening too fast for her. On an impulse she crossed the room to the door. No, the door was unlocked. And the dinner tray was gone. Had Aunt Abbie taken it with her? No, she had left empty handed, unless the dinner tray, like the roses, had somehow become invisible. Perhaps the nightly visitor had only been someone coming after the tray.
    Maybe, she thought, maybe I dreamed the whole thing, the dinner tray, the nightly visitor. She had pinched herself, but what did that mean? She might have dreamed that she pinched herself.
    With a shake of the head she tried the only other door in the room. It led to a bathroom, complete with tub, of an antiquated variety, but a tub nonetheless, and a basin and stool.
    â€œWell, at least I have the comforts of home,” she said to herself, adding, “More or less.” For that she could no doubt thank the sisters who had installed the wiring, before the house burned; or else the unidentified relative who must have rebuilt the house after the fire.
    She turned a faucet and waited patiently for a few seconds.