What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? by Henry Farrell Read Free Book Online

had, really, in the whole world. She refused to believe that Jane’s spells were beginning to be dangerous. For one thing they weren’t really so very frequent; Blanche had come to accept them as a kind of infirmity that she must put up with just as Jane put up with her invalidism. Of the two of them, Jane had gotten all the worst of it; imprisoned all these years with a helpless, cheerless cripple performing the duties, really, of a servant. It was only natural that it should be too much for her sometimes and that she should rebel.
If I had only listened to Marty thirty years ago,
Blanche cried within herself;
If I didn’t know in my own heart that it’s really all my own fault…
She gazed up at Mrs. Stitt, rubbing one hand in agitation across the back of the other.
    “You must be exaggerating,” she said with an abruptness she didn’t intend. “There’s nothing for you to worry about.”
    Instantly sensitive to her tone, Mrs. Stitt flushed a deep crimson and looked down awkwardly at her hands. “You’re right, Miss Blanche,” she said, “it’s none of my business. I guess I just ought to learn to keep my big mouth shut.”
    Blanche reached out in quick distress. “Oh, Edna—no! I appreciate your concern. I honestly do, more than you know, but——” Sensing, she thought, some subtle shifting of the shadows out in the hall, she broke off. After a moment’s hesitation, she returned her gaze to Mrs. Stitt. “Where’s Jane?”
    “Downstairs.” Mrs. Stitt spoke absently, still absorbed in her own embarrassment. “Miss Blanche, I apologize. I shouldn’t have butted in like this. I knew I shouldn’t when I started in, but—well, if you’ll just try to forget it…”
    “Oh, please, Edna, I don’t want to worry about it. You haven’t done anything wrong.” She felt a strong anxiety to have the woman leave the room and be away from her. “You really haven’t.”
    “Anyhow, I thought you’d want the letters—I thought you’d be glad to have them.”
    “Oh, I am! But I’m sure it was just a mistake, Jane’s throwing them out. I’m sure of it.”
    Nodding, Mrs. Stitt edged toward the door. “Well,” she said uneasily, “if I’m ever going to get finished up, I’d better get back downstairs.” At the doorway she hesitated, turned back. “Oh, yes, I guess I’d better tell you now. I can’t come but in the morning next Friday. I have to go downtown about jury duty. They’ll let me off all right, because I have to make my own living. But I have to go down when they say just the same.”
    Blanche smiled. “Of course, Edna.”
    “But I can come on Monday morning, too—just for the morning—if that’s all right with you? That ought to be some help…”
    “That’ll be fine,” Blanche said hastily. “Thank you for telling me.”
    For a long moment after Mrs. Stitt had gone Blanche sat in brooding silence, her previous mood of well-being completely gone. She started to turn back to the window, but stopped, thinking she detected, a second time, some slight movement out in thehall. And then, remembering the letters, she gathered them up from her lap and slipped them into her pocket.
    Leaving her hand against the letters for comfort, she tried to calm herself. Even so, she heard a distant voice screaming faintly against some obscure inner ear.
    I got the talent!
it cried.
Even if nobody cared… And I’ve still got it!

3
    I ’m sorry,” the voice on the telephone said. “Mr. Hanley is talking to a client right now. May I take a message?”
    “Well, no—except that I called—Blanche Hudson. My number——”
    “Oh, Miss Hudson—if it’s anything urgent, I know Mr. Hanley will want me to call him.”
    “Oh, no. No, it’s nothing urgent at all. But I would like to talk to him when he’s free.”
    “Surely, Miss Hudson. I’ll have him call you back. Probably within a half an hour. Is that all right?”
    “Yes, perfectly,” Blanche said. And then she paused. “Oh—well,