4_50 From Paddington - Agatha Christie [87]
“How d’you do,” said Mrs. McGillicuddy, looking at Emma with complete attention and then shifting her gaze to Cedric, who had now risen to his feet. Lucy entered the room at this moment.
“Aunt Jane, I had no idea….”
“I had to come and say good-bye to Miss Crackenthorpe,” said Miss Marple, turning to her, “who has been so very, very kind to you, Lucy.”
“It’s Lucy who’s been very kind to us,” said Emma.
“Yes, indeed,” said Cedric. “We’ve worked her like a galley slave. Waiting on the sick room, running up and down the stairs, cooking little invalid messes….”
Miss Marple broke in. “I was so very, very sorry to hear of your illness. I do hope you’re quite recovered now, Miss Crackenthorpe?”
“Oh, we’re quite well again now,” said Emma.
“Lucy told me you were all very ill. So dangerous, isn’t it, food poisoning? Mushrooms, I understand.”
“The cause remains rather mysterious,” said Emma.
“Don’t you believe it,” said Cedric. “I bet you’ve heard the rumours that are flying round, Miss—er—”
“Marple,” said Miss Marple.
“Well, as I say, I bet you’ve heard the rumours that are flying round. Nothing like arsenic for raising a little flutter in the neighbourhood.”
“Cedric,” said Emma, “I wish you wouldn’t. You know Inspector Craddock said….”
“Bah,” said Cedric, “everybody knows. Even you’ve heard something, haven’t you?” he turned to Miss Marple and Mrs. McGillicuddy.
“I myself,” said Mrs. McGillicuddy, “have only just returned from abroad—the day before yesterday,” she added.
“Ah, well, you’re not up on our local scandal then,” said Cedric. “Arsenic in the curry, that’s what it was. Lucy’s aunt knows all about it, I bet.”
“Well,” said Miss Marple, “I did just hear—I mean, it was just a hint, but of course I didn’t want to embarrass you in any way, Miss Crackenthorpe.”
“You must pay no attention to my brother,” said Emma. “He just likes making people uncomfortable.” She gave him an affectionate smile as she spoke.
The door opened and Mr. Crackenthorpe came in, tapping angrily with his stick.
“Where’s tea?” he said, “why isn’t tea ready? You! Girl!” he addressed Lucy, “why haven’t you brought tea in?”
“It’s just ready, Mr. Crackenthorpe. I’m bringing it in now. I was just setting the table ready.”
Lucy went out of the room again and Mr. Crackenthorpe was introduced to Miss Marple and Mrs. McGillicuddy.
“Like my meals on time,” said Mr. Crackenthorpe. “Punctuality and economy. Those are my watchwords.”
“Very necessary, I’m sure,” said Miss Marple, “especially in these times with taxation and everything.”
Mr. Crackenthorpe snorted. “Taxation! Don’t talk to me of those robbers. A miserable pauper—that’s what I am. And it’s going to get worse, not better. You wait, my boy,” he addressed Cedric, “when you get this place ten to one the Socialists will have it off you and turn it into a Welfare Centre or something. And take all your income to keep it up with!”
Lucy reappeared with a tea tray, Bryan Eastley followed her carrying a tray of sandwiches, bread and butter and cake.
“What’s this? What’s this?” Mr. Crackenthorpe inspected the tray. “Frosted cake? We having a party today? Nobody told me about it.”
A faint flush came into Emma’s face.
“Dr. Quimper’s coming to tea, Father. It’s his birthday today and—”
“Birthday?” snorted the old man. “What’s he doing with a birthday? Birthdays are only for children. I never count my birthdays and I won’t let anyone else celebrate them either.”
“Much cheaper,” agreed Cedric. “You save the price of candles on your cake.”
“That’s enough from you, boy,” said Mr. Crackenthorpe.
Miss Marple was shaking hands with Bryan Eastley. “I’ve heard about you, of course,” she said, “from Lucy. Dear me, you remind me so of someone I used to know at St. Mary Mead. That’s the village where I’ve lived for so many years, you know. Ronnie Wells, the solicitor’s son. Couldn’t seem to settle somehow when he went into his father’s business. He went out to East Africa and started a series