Black Coffee - Agatha Christie [6]
She turned back to Lucia. ‘I was just saying, dear, wasn’t I, what a very strange thing it was that Dr Carelli should turn up in the way he did, with no idea that you were living in this part of the world. You simply ran into him in the village, and invited him here. It must have been a great surprise for you, my dear, mustn’t it?’
‘It was,’ replied Lucia.
‘The world really is such a very small place, I’ve always said so,’ Miss Amory continued. ‘Your friend is a very good-looking man, Lucia.’
‘Do you think so?’
‘Foreign-looking, of course,’ Miss Amory conceded, ‘but distinctly handsome. And he speaks English very well.’
‘Yes, I suppose he does.’
Miss Amory seemed disinclined to let the topic go. ‘Did you really have no idea,’ she asked, ‘that he was in this part of the world?’
‘None whatsoever,’ replied Lucia emphatically.
Richard Amory had been watching his wife intently. Now he spoke again. ‘What a delightful surprise it must have been for you, Lucia,’ he said.
His wife looked up at him quickly, but made no reply. Miss Amory beamed. ‘Yes, indeed,’ she continued. ‘Did you know him well in Italy, my dear? Was he a great friend of yours? I suppose he must have been.’
There was a sudden bitterness in Lucia’s voice. ‘He was never a friend,’ she said.
‘Oh, I see. Merely an acquaintance. But he accepted your generous invitation to stay. I often think foreigners are inclined to be a little pushy. Oh, I don’t mean you, of course, dear –’ Miss Amory had the grace to pause and blush. ‘I mean, well, you’re half English in any case.’ She looked archly at her nephew, and continued, ‘In fact, she’s quite English now, isn’t she, Richard?’
Richard Amory did not respond to his aunt’s archness, but moved towards the door and opened it, as though in invitation to Miss Amory to return to the others.
‘Well,’ said that lady as she moved reluctantly to the door, ‘if you’re sure I can’t do anything more –’
‘No, no.’ Richard’s tone was as abrupt as his words, as he held the door open for her. With an uncertain gesture, and a last nervous smile at Lucia, Miss Amory left.
Emitting a sigh of relief, Richard shut the door after her, and came back to his wife. ‘Natter, natter, natter,’ he complained. ‘I thought she’d never go.’
‘She was only trying to be kind, Richard.’
‘Oh, I dare say she was. But she tries a damn sight too hard.’
‘I think she’s fond of me,’ murmured Lucia. ‘What? Oh, of course.’ Richard Amory’s tone was abstracted. He stood, observing his wife closely. For a few moments there was a constrained silence. Then, moving nearer to her, Richard looked down at Lucia. ‘You’re sure there’s nothing I can get you?’
Lucia looked up at him, forcing a smile. ‘Nothing, really, thank you, Richard. Do go back to the dining-room. I really am perfectly all right now.’
‘No,’ replied her husband. ‘I’ll stay with you.’
‘But I’d rather be alone.’
There was a pause. Then Richard spoke again, as he moved behind the settee. ‘Cushions all right? Would you like another one under your head?’
‘I am quite comfortable as I am,’ Lucia protested. ‘It would be nice to have some air, though. Could you open the window?’
Richard moved to the french windows and fumbled with the catch. ‘Damn!’ he exclaimed. ‘The old boy’s locked it with one of those patent catches of his. You can’t open it without the key.’
Lucia shrugged her shoulders. ‘Oh, well,’ she murmured, ‘it really doesn’t matter.’
Richard came back from the french windows, and sat in one of the chairs by the table. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. ‘Wonderful fellow, the old man. Always inventing something or other.’
‘Yes,’ replied Lucia. ‘He must have made a lot of money out of his inventions.’
‘Pots of it,’ said Richard, gloomily. ‘But it isn’t the money that appeals to him. They’re all the same, these scientists. Always on the track of something utterly impracticable