La Plat

‘I do not need any young friends. I already h al the friends that I need here. ’
‘Thank you dear’, said Cecily. ‘ But Frederic and I are much too old to be…’
‘oh, I was not thinking of your husband.’ ‘What do you mean, Isobel? Who…?’
The girl left the room before Cecily could finish her question.
Cecily heard her laugh softly as she walked across the hall. After supper that night,Frederic and Cecily Frobisher sat by the fire. Isobel was upstairs in her room. Cecily spoke first, very quietly. She was afraid to speak loudly.
‘You do not look well, Frederic’, she said. ‘ What is the matter?
‘It is difficult to explain, Cecily,’ he said. ‘It is silly of me, I kwon.
But I have not been able to write since Isobel came here. ’
‘But she does not make a noise. I sometimes thinkthat she is too quiet.’
‘Oh no it is not Isobel…’ He stopped. He looked afraid.
‘Tell me, Frederic. Please tell me.’
‘I must be quiet and alone when I am writing a book’, he said.
‘You know that. So my library is very important to me. It is big and quiet and comfortable. My books are there. I can sit at my desk and write for hours.’
‘ I know, dear. But nothing has changed. You go into thelibrary every morning after breakfast and you stay there until lunch.’
‘Yes,’ he said.’ And I have not written anything. Oh I have tried.
But I can not think about my work. I am not alone in there.’
‘Not alone! What do you mean Frederic? I never come into the library when you are busy. I am sure Isobel does not. Does she?’
‘Not alone! What do you mean, Frederic? I never come into thelibrary when you are busy . I aem sure Isobel does not. Does she?’
‘Not , she has not been in. But when I sit in my writing chair, I can hear a voice. I think it is a woman is voice- an old woman is voice. She is talking but I can not hear the words. The rrom does not seem to belong to me now. My desk is not mine. My chair is not mine. Nothing in my library is mine.’
‘Frederic! Stop!’ criedCecily. ‘ You are frightening me. You need a rest- a holiday. We must…’
She stopped speaking as a shadow fell across her face. She looked up. Isobel was standing on the stairs.
‘What do you want? Why are you moving so quietly?’ Fear made Cecily is voice angry.
‘ I always move quietly’, the girl answered. Was she smiling at them? ‘You like the house to be quiet. I was thirsty. I came down to get aglass of water.’
‘Then get it and go back to your room.’
‘yes, Mrs Frobisher.’
A minute later, Isobel returned from the kitchen. She put the glass down and stood between them. ‘ You never saw my grandmother, did you?’ she said.
‘I did not Frederic answered. ‘ And I do not think my wife did.
We did not visit this house when you lived here. Your mother came to stay with us once or twice, but wedid not come here.’
‘My grandmother lived here with us when I was a little girl. I loved her very much. She told me a lot of stories about the house. It is very old, you know. She died here. Then my father lost his money and you bought our house.’
‘ It was very sad for you Isobel,’ said Frederic, ‘but…’
‘Oh, do not be sorry for me. I am back now. My grandmother promised me. ‘’This house willbe yours,’’ she said.’ Isobel smiled again. Nobody spoke for a minute or two. Then she said, ‘ Can I use your library, Mr Frobisher? It was my grandmother is special room. She did not like other people to use it. Except me. She liked me to sit in there with her. I sat there and listened to her stories.
I’ll be very quiet. I was always quiet in there.’
‘But…I do not think…no…’ Fredericstooped. He looked across at his wife. Her hands were, covering her face.
‘ Do not try to decide now,’ said Isobel. ‘ You can give me your answer he in the morning. I must go to bed now. Oh, I nearly forgot. Here is a photograph of my grandmother. I brought it downstairs with me. I am sure it will interest you, Mrs Frobisher.’ Isobel pushed the photograph into Cecily is hads. ‘ Look at it. Perhaps...