Writing for Fun
April 2022
I Wouldn’t Want You To Know This About Me - Jan Norman
With a sigh of satisfaction Agatha Crispie lay back against her pillows. It had taken a whole year, since being diagnosed with terminal cancer, to create and accomplish plans to ensure her demise would be remembered for centuries.
Although old and decrepit in body her mind was still razor sharp. Mentally she had reviewed, time and time again, her plan that she hoped would cause a sensation after her death. She ran through the mental tick list one more time. The same list she had gone over again and again in the last few days searching for flaws. It had to be now. Pain ravaged any more thoughts.
The last Miss Marble novel had been written. The draft copy of which was lodged with her dearest friend and literary agent, Mr Carruthers, with orders for the novel to be released for general publication on her death.
The only other copy, painstakingly hand written in her own spidery hand, now lay in her bedside cabinet carefully wrapped in pretty paper and tied with ribbon. This was addressed to Miss Withers, her carefully chosen and recently hired private nurse. The very same nurse she had closely watched nursing her beloved friend through the last few weeks of her life.
Twilight dimmed the room and nurse Withers slid quietly into Agatha’s bedroom. Professionally eyeing her charge and noticing the pain shadows crossing Agatha’s brows she busied herself preparing a heavy syringe of pain numbing barbiturates. Agatha, pretending to shut her eyes, watched through slitted eyelids the extra hefty dose being prepared and as the pain surging through her body had reached almost intolerable levels took a deep intake of breath. Now was the time or it would be too late.
‘You know, dear Miss Withers, I feel that now is the right time to confess that there is something that, in the normal run of things, I would not want you, or anybody else for that matter, to know about me but as my time on this earth is nearly done feel should be said. Now, I’m sure you know, it is not uncommon for characters in novels to reflect their author’s own personality and ethical values. For example, you may have noticed that one of my much-admired sleuths, Miss Marble, until recently was the arbiter of justice but always left the law to dispense punishment – as I being a judge’s wife applauded – but in my last two novels my hand guided her to dispense her own brand of justice and to become an avenging angel, or in other’s eyes a murderess. I now confess she and I have become one and I would feel no compunction at ending the life of someone who I feel lawful justice has missed.
Miss Withers beamed as she pressed the plunger on the syringe and released a squirt of fluid.
‘My dear Miss Christie I confess we are indeed soulmates. I feel, as you do, that in special cases the hastening of death to some is a blessing not a crime. Now my dear it is time to help you.’
Walking to her bedside she took Agatha’s hand and inserted the needle into the catheter in her arm and depressed the plunger.
‘There my dear, soon you will never again have to suffer pain . . . ever again. I am the bringer of eternal peace.’
Agatha smiled, ‘Dear friend, open my bedside cabinet, yes that’s right, a parcel. My parting gift. I hope . . .’ A smile settled on her face as life slid away.
Nurse Withers closed Agatha’s eyes and pulled up the bed sheet. Sitting in the armchair she pulled open the ribbon on the parcel and revealed the hand written book. Tucked in the first page was a note which read . . .
My Dear Friend,
By the time you read this note I will be with my Maker but you too will be close on my heels. The ribbon tying this gift has been laced with a powerful contact poison which has no antidote. Death is inevitable but not quick.
This is my justice. You are a serial killer, you would say, of kindness. Hastening death to those you have been employed to nurse. The law would have caught you sooner or later but not soon enough in my eyes. The draft book you have in your possession is poetic justice where Miss Marbles takes it upon herself to nurse her old friend Agatha Crispie. You know the end: hastening her end as you hastened mine. Hope you have enough time to finish reading your copy.
Agatha