Plague Read Online Free Page A

laboriously down in one of Dr. Petrie’s two white Italian
armchairs. She propped her sticks against the glass-topped coffee table, and
spread her elegant blue-flowered dress around her.
    ‘If I were well,
Dr. Petrie,’ she said icily, ‘I should not be here.’
    Dr. Petrie left
his desk and went to sit beside her in another armchair. He always preferred
the informal touch. It made patients feel easier; it even made them feel
healthier.
    ‘Is your hip
bothering you again?’ he asked sympathetically.
    Mrs. Fairfax
gave a histrionic sigh. ‘My dear doctor, there is absolutely nothing wrong with
my hip. But there is a great deal wrong with my beach.’
    Dr. Petrie
frowned. He could see himself frowning in the large smokey mirror opposite his
chair. He wondered if, despite his looks, he was beginning to get old.
    ‘Your beach? he enquired politely.
He was used to the eccentricities of wealthy old widows.
    ‘It’s
absolutely disgusting,’ she said coldly. She brushed back her violet hair with
a tanned, elegant claw. Today, her fingers were encrusted with sapphires, but Dr.
Petrie knew that she had as many rings for every color of dress she ever wore.
    ‘What’s wrong
with it?’
    ‘What’s wrong with
it? I don’t know how you can ask! Haven’t you read the newspapers?’
    Dr. Petrie
shook his head. ‘I haven’t had much time recently for the Miami Herald.’
    ‘Well you
should make time,’ said Mrs. Fairfax imperiously. ‘It’s been happening all
along the South Beach. And now it’s turned up on mine.’
    Dr. Petrie
tried to smile. ‘I hate to appear ignorant,’ he said. ‘But what has turned up
on yours?’
    Mrs. Fairfax
lifted her sharp, haughty profile in obvious distaste. In a quiet, cold voice,
she said, ‘Faeces.’ Dr. Petrie leaned forward, ‘I beg your pardon?’ Mrs.
Fairfax turned his way with a look of frozen disdain. ‘You’re a doctor. You
know what that means. I went down to my beach yesterday morning for a swim and
I found it was soiled with faeces.’ Dr. Petrie rubbed his chin. ‘Was it –
much?’
    ‘The whole
shoreline,’ said Mrs. Fairfax. ‘And the beaches next to mine,
on both sides. I can’t tell you – the smell is abominable.’
    ‘Have you
complained to the health people?’
    ‘Of course I
have. I spent most of yesterday on the telephone. I got through to some very
junior official who told me that they were doing everything they could, and
that they were going to try and clear the beaches with detergent. But it’s
really not good enough. It’s there now, it smells revolting, and I want you to
do something about it.’
    Dr. Petrie
stood up and went to the window. He felt sticky and tired, and the glittering
pool outside looked very inviting.
    ‘Mrs. Fairfax,’
he said, ‘I don’t think there’s very much I can do, apart from call City Hall,
like you did. It’s probably treated sewage brought in by the sea. I know it
doesn’t look or smell too good, but it’s pretty harmless.’
    Mrs. Fairfax
snorted. ‘You’re absolutely right it doesn’t look too good. I have a beach
party planned for tomorrow evening. What am I going to say to my guests – my
doctor says it’s harmless? I pay very high taxes to live on the ocean, Dr.
Petrie, and I don’t expect to have to swim in excrement.’
    Dr. Petrie
turned around and smiled. ‘All right, Mrs. Fairfax. I promise that I’ll call
the health department this morning for you. I’m sure that it’s one of those
rare accidents, and if they say they’re going to clear the beach with
detergent, they probably will.
    They’re pretty
hot on things like that in Miami.’
    Mrs. Fairfax
shook her head. ‘First it was oil and now it’s sewage,’ she said tetchily. ‘I
don’t know whether I’m renting a beach or a city dump.’
    Dr. Petrie
helped her out of her armchair and gave her back her sticks. ‘I promise I’ll
call this morning,’ he repeated. ‘If you hold on one moment, I’ll get Esther to
help you