The Edge of Dreams (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #14)

“But Sid and Gus are wonderful people. They are kind, and caring, and amusing, and cultured. You couldn’t want for better friends,” I said, trying to check my rising anger.

She patted my hand. “You’ve led a sheltered life, my dear, and you probably don’t realize the full implications, but such friendships are not natural. When I was young, romantic friendships among young women were accepted, even encouraged. But that was only until a suitable match could be made. Two women living together like that … it’s just not right. What will your children think, when they are old enough to notice?”

“They’ll think that Auntie Sid and Auntie Gus seem to have a lot of fun at their house,” I said. “Which is what I think too. And if they choose not to marry, that’s up to them.” I sat on the bed and started to unbutton my shirtwaist. “You mentioned something about soup?” I added, closing the conversation.

I got up after a long nap and had tea in the kitchen. Sid and Gus were not mentioned again. I knew that Daniel was not thrilled about my association with them, but this was one area where I chose to ignore all criticism. Sid and Gus were my dear friends, and that was all that mattered.

Being Friday, Mother Sullivan cooked cod with a white sauce for dinner, and miraculously Daniel arrived home in time to join us. It seemed that having his mother here was a good influence on him.

“How’s my invalid?” he asked.

“Not improving through rushing all over the place this morning,” Mother Sullivan said before I could answer, as she brought the pie to the table. “You should have seen her earlier. Pale as death she was, and clearly suffering.”

“You exaggerate,” I said. “I went out for an hour with Sid and Gus to visit friends. Hardly exhausting, and I’m feeling just fine now.”

“Take it slowly, Molly,” Daniel said, giving me a long look. “These things can’t be rushed.”

“I’m fine, really I am,” I said. I spooned food onto a plate and passed it to Daniel, then to Bridie. “How is the case coming along? Have they discovered any clues about the train crash yet?”

“Nothing at all.” He shook his head, but there was a warning look in his eyes that said we should say nothing more in front of his mother. “I take it your little jaunt with the neighbor ladies today was to visit the young girl you told me about.”

“Yes, it was. It was rather disturbing, as a matter of fact. The girl claims to remember nothing but is having horrendous dreams, dreams that upset her so much that she was shaking and couldn’t even talk about them. Gus has asked her to write them down as soon as they happen, as that might be less distressing than having to recount them.”

“And Gus thinks she can analyze the dreams and thus cure the girl?”

“That’s what she hopes,” I said.

“What’s all this? Your friend has turned into a fortune-teller now, has she?” Daniel’s mother asked.

“No, remember I told you that she’s been studying in Vienna with Professor Freud?”

Mother Sullivan sniffed. “Professor Freud! Smut merchant Freud, if you ask me. Mrs. Hennessy at church was saying that he’s trying to make out we’re all depraved, with unnatural desires. I’m afraid it only goes to confirm my opinion of your friends, Molly.”

“So you think it’s a better idea to lock mad people away in asylums, rather than try to find out what’s ailing them and try to help them?” I asked. “I’ve been in one of those places. They are the closest thing to hell you could find.”

“You were in an asylum?” she asked nervously. “For what reason?”

“I was trying to trace a missing girl, back when I ran my detective agency,” I said. “I discovered her there, quite sane but put there by evil people.”

“Mercy me,” she said.

“Anyway, Professor Freud might have some strange ideas, but a lot of good will come from the study of the mind, I feel sure. And lately he’s turned his attention to the study of dreams. He’s written a treatise on dream interpretation. Gus has been telling me about it. It sounds fascinating.”

Mother Sullivan laughed. “The old Irishwomen were always interpreting dreams when I was a girl. Dream of a black cow and you were going to come into money or get married or something. That kind of rubbish.”

“They did the same where I come from,” I said. “They reckoned some people could dream the future—and maybe they were right and some people could. We always prized ourselves on our second sight. But this is different. Gus says that we sometimes express what is troubling us in our innermost souls through symbols in our dreams.”

“I dream that I’m flying,” Bridie chimed in. “I’m flying and I’m looking for water and I’m going really fast because I know it’s a long way, but if I can only spot the water, I’ll be all right.”

“I think even I can interpret that one,” I said. “You’re looking for the Panama Canal and hoping to see your father and brother.”