4_50 From Paddington - Agatha Christie [81]
They went out from the dining room and crossed into the small study where they usually sat when they were alone. Harold was feeling quite exhausted by now. “I’ll go up to bed early,” he thought.
He picked up the small parcel from the hall table, about which his wife had spoken to him. It was a small neatly waxed parcel, done up with meticulous exactness. Harold ripped it open as he came to sit down in his usual chair by the fire.
Inside was a small tablet box bearing the label, “Two to be taken nightly.” With it was a small piece of paper with the chemist’s heading in Brackhampton. “Sent by request of Doctor Quimper” was written on it.
Harold Crackenthorpe frowned. He opened the box and looked at the tablets. Yes, they seemed to be the same tablets he had been having. But surely, surely Quimper had said that he needn’t take anymore? “You won’t want them, now.” That’s what Quimper had said.
“What is it, dear?” said Alice. “You look worried.”
“Oh, it’s just—some tablets. I’ve been taking them at night. But I rather thought the doctor said don’t take anymore.”
His wife said placidly: “He probably said don’t forget to take them.”
“He may have done, I suppose,” said Harold doubtfully.
He looked across at her. She was watching him. Just for a moment or two he wondered—he didn’t often wonder about Alice—exactly what she was thinking. That mild gaze of hers told him nothing. Her eyes were like windows in an empty house. What did Alice think about him, feel about him? Had she been in love with him once? He supposed she had. Or did she marry him because she thought he was doing well in the City, and she was tired of her own impecunious existence? Well, on the whole, she’d done quite well out of it. She’d got a car and a house in London, she could travel abroad when she felt like it and get herself expensive clothes, though goodness knows they never looked like anything on Alice. Yes, on the whole she’d done pretty well. He wondered if she thought so. She wasn’t really fond of him, of course, but then he wasn’t really fond of her. They had nothing in common, nothing to talk about, no memories to share. If there had been children—but there hadn’t been any children—odd that there were no children in the family except young Edie’s boy. Young Edie. She’d been a silly girl, making that foolish, hasty war-time marriage. Well, he’d given her good advice.
He’d said: “It’s all very well, these dashing young pilots, glamour, courage, all that, but he’ll be no good in peace time, you know. Probably be barely able to support you.”
And Edie had said, what did it matter? She loved Bryan and Bryan loved her, and he’d probably be killed quite soon. Why shouldn’t they have some happiness? What was the good of looking to the future when they might well be bombed any minute. And after all, Edie had said, the future doesn’t really matter because some day there’ll be all grandfather’s money.
Harold squirmed uneasily in his chair. Really, that will of his grandfather’s had been iniquitous! Keeping them all dangling on a string. The will hadn’t pleased anybody. It didn’t please the grandchildren and it made their father quite livid. The old boy was absolutely determined not to die. That’s what made him take so much care of himself. But he’d have to die soon. Surely, surely he’d have to die soon. Otherwise—all Harold’s worries swept over him once more making him feel sick and tired and giddy.
Alice was still watching him, he noticed. Those pale, thoughtful eyes, they made him uneasy somehow.
“I think I shall go to bed,” he said. “It’s been my first day out in the City.”
“Yes,” said Alice, “I think that’s a good idea. I’m sure the doctor told you to take things easily at first.”
“Doctors always tell you that,” said Harold.
“And don’t forget to take your tablets, dear,” said Alice. She picked up the box and handed it to him.
He said good night and went upstairs. Yes, he needed the tablets. It would have been a mistake to leave them off too soon. He took two of them and swallowed