“How’ve you been? It’s me, Linda, Ted’s niece.” Just like the Apron, this visitor pronounced each word clearly, as if she were talking to an imbecile. I felt a bit cross. I thought, she’s not deaf you know. Or stupid.
“Hello,” Frieda said.
“You going to let me in?”
Footsteps. I angled my head so I could see this Linda through a crack in the banisters. She was short, with a small turned-up nose and thin blond hair in a bob.
“This is a nice surprise. You look well,” Frieda said. “Would you like tea, perhaps? Or a coffee? Some nice biscuits, all homemade?”
“Yeah, you’re all right. I’m not staying. Just thought I’d better check up on you, what with all that trouble that’s gone on round here.”
“I’m fine, dear.”
“Amazing, the stuff that can happen on your doorstep.”
“Is it?”
“Yeah. Unbelievable. Anyway. They didn’t take you, then.” I saw the woman looking around, her hands on her hips. “God,” she said, almost to herself, “so much junk.”
“How are you keeping, dear?” Frieda said. “Now remind me, are you still at the shop?”
“I’ll get Steve round sometime, give you a hand clearing up.”
“I’m perfectly fine, thank you, Linda.”
“You can’t live like this, Frieda. How d’you know where all the important stuff is?”
“Important stuff?”
“Your papers and stuff. Where d’you keep everything? Your will, for instance? Where d’you keep that?”
“It’s all tucked away, dear. And you needn’t worry about that. I’ve always said, when my time comes, I’ll always look after my family. Would you like a biscuit?”
“No, thanks. How d’you cope?”
“I have help.”
“That exorbitant home help.”
“And Elisabeth.”
“Elisabeth?”
“My Elisabeth. Elisabeth Openheimer.”
“Who’s that, then?”
“My sister.”
“I don’t think so, Frieda.”
“What was that?”
“I said, I don’t think it could have been your sister, Frieda.” She raised her voice. “It can’t have been Elisabeth.” Then, practically shouting, “You haven’t got a sister, Frieda. You’re confused.”
“I do. I was talking to her just this morning.”
“Bloody Nora, really?” Linda said. “You’re mixed up.”
“I don’t think I am.”
“Okay, Frieda. I’ve got to go.”
“Always in such a hurry. Next time you visit, could you perhaps bring me a new toothbrush? I like to keep a spare. Actually, now I think of it, could you please bring two?”
“Two? What d’you need two for? God, never mind. Give us a tenner, then.”
“Goodness, do they really cost that much?”
“There’s petrol too, though, isn’t there? To get to the shops.”
She waited in silence while Frieda located and rummaged around in her bag.
“All right, dear. Well, thank you for visiting. It’s always nice to have company.”
***
I knew it was wicked, living with Frieda. I tried telling myself that I was helping her, that what we had was a mutual arrangement, which somehow made it okay. But, of course, it wasn’t. I was bad. I was as bad as Linda. Probably worse. Where did moving in uninvited and unannounced with a little old lady fit on a rising scale of criminal activity? Was it somewhere between trespassing and fare dodging, or shoplifting and petty theft? Or was it even worse? What would they do me for? Fraud, I thought. Deception, impersonation, theft.
