The Enchanted Doll by Paul Gallico. Part 2.
Watch on KineScope.
In the following days, I could not stop thinking about the doll, or about the gentle face and the sad eyes. I remembered Jim’s description of the woman who made her. How could a woman like that make a beautiful doll? It was difficult to believe.
So who was she? I wanted to know, but the weather got cold and wet. Children in the area became ill, and I was suddenly very busy.
I soon forgot about the woman – and the doll.
One day, a few weeks later, my telephone rang. A woman’s voice said, ‘Is that Doctor Amony?’
‘Yes, it is,’ I said.
‘Do you visit people who can pay for your visit?’ the woman asked.
‘Yes, sometimes,’ I replied.
‘How much does it cost?’ she asked.
The voice sounded unpleasant. The woman seemed to think that money was more important than the sick person.
A visit will cost five pounds,’ I replied.
‘Oh,’ she said.
‘But if you really can’t pay, then I don’t ask for the money,’ I said.
‘That’s all right,’ she said. ‘I can pay five pounds.’
‘What’s your name?’ I asked.
‘Rose Callamit,’ she answered. ‘I live in the house next to the cake shop in Hardley Street. My rooms are on the second floor.’
‘I’ll be there soon,’ I told her.
I arrived at the house next to the cake shop in Hardley Street ten minutes later, and went up the stairs. They were narrow, dirty, and badly lit.
As I reached the top of the stairs, a door opened.
‘Doctor Amony?’ said the unpleasant voice.
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Please come in,’ she said. ‘I’m Rose Callamit.’
She was a tall woman, between forty-five and fifty years old. She had red hair, dark eyes and a bright shiny-red mouth.
We went into the front room. It was a cold, ugly room, and the furniture was cheap and badly made. On the cupboard in the corner were a lot of small glass bottles.
Then I saw the dolls.
They were hanging from the walls and were thrown carelessly across the bed. Each doll was different, but each one was as beautiful as my doll. It seemed impossible that this rough, unpleasant woman could make them.
Rose Callamit looked closely at me. ‘You’re a very young doctor,’ she said.
‘I’m older than I look,’ I said coldly. ‘You think that I’m too young. Shall I go away again?’
She laughed at me. ‘You don’t need to be angry, doctor!’ she said. ‘You’re very good-looking for a doctor.’
‘And I’m a very busy doctor,’ I said. ‘Are you the person who’s ill?’
‘No, it’s my niece,’ she replied. ‘She’s in the back room. I’ll take you to her.’
Before we went in, I had to know about the dolls.
‘Do you make these dolls?’ I asked.
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘Why?’
I felt very sad. ‘I bought one for someone’s birthday,’ I said quietly.
She laughed. ‘And I’m sure that you paid a lot of money for it,’ she said.