C4 antho - Chamber Four

~252~ The Chamber Four Fiction Anthology
“Well, Patrick?” said Munro. “Well? Don’t tell us you’re
one, too.”
“Certainly, sir.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Certainly, sir,” said Patrick. “C of E. Pater was the
vicar.”
“No,” said Munro.
“Great Uncle Ronnie was the Bishop of Leicester,” said
Patrick.
* * * *
Munro was going down. He stayed in their rooms or on
the veranda, where he sat by the hour collapsed in his chair,
looking as though he’d been dropped into it from a high window.
At night, now, it was Sharon who slept soundly, waking
to find Munro lying beside her, not sleeping, sitting up, or
standing by their window in the moonlight that came in from
the courtyard. He was silent, he grew vague. His senses
seemed to be more and more affected: his hearing was
worse, and his vision. One morning when Sharon came out
onto the veranda, to find Munro in his chair, “Who’s there?”
he cried.
“It’s me, baby,” said Sharon. “Can’t you see me?”
“Oh, yes, I can see you,” said Munro. “I can see you now.
You were in the shadow.”
Sharon hadn’t been in the shadow.
“What’s wrong with Duncan?” she asked Patrick.
“Wrong, miss?” asked Patrick.
“Come on, Patrick. Look at him. He can’t hear, he can’t
see. He can hardly walk. He’s confused.”