Auntie must be dead. Was that all? – And her voice quite ordinary. How funny her eyes looked. And her face . . . She heard the door open. ‘I think she’s dead,’ she said, not lowering her voice and without turning round. She continued to stare at the unrecognizable face. Behind her there was a soft exclamation, and the sound of a tray being set down. Then Nurse Judson was at her side and bending over the bed, and taking certain actions with the body. The nurse stood up with the faintest of sighs. ‘Yes, she’s gone . . . what happened?’ she asked in a subdued voice. ‘Nothing much.’ Juliet softened her own voice in imitation; apparently one did this when someone died. ‘I was sitting thinking, like, and she made a funny noise and opened her eyes and looked straight at me . . . quite ordinary –well, you know, sane, I mean – she looked . . . and then—’ She broke off. Did the old woman’s sentence, spoken plainly and sadly, mean that she had not been left any money?
