Black Coffee - Agatha Christie [9]
‘I think she needs a good stiff drink,’ suggested Barbara, sitting on the coffee table and peering critically but not unsympathetically into Lucia’s face. ‘This is an awful house, Aunt Caroline. It’s years behind the times. You never see the ghost of a cocktail in it. Nothing but sherry or whisky before dinner, and brandy afterwards. Richard can’t make a decent Manhattan, and just try asking Edward Raynor for a Whisky Sour. Now what would really pull Lucia around in no time would be a Satan’s Whisker.’
Miss Amory turned a shocked countenance upon her niece. ‘What,’ she enquired in horrified tones, ‘might a Satan’s Whisker be?’
‘It’s quite simple to make, if you have the ingredients,’ replied Barbara. ‘It’s merely equal parts of brandy and crème de menthe, but you mustn’t forget a shake of red pepper. That’s most important. It’s absolutely super, and guaranteed to put some pep into you.’
‘Barbara, you know I disapprove of these alcoholic stimulants,’ Miss Amory exclaimed with a shudder. ‘My dear father always said –’
‘I don’t know what he said,’ replied Barbara, ‘but absolutely everyone in the family knows that dear old Great-Uncle Algernon had the reputation of being a three-bottle man.’
At first, Miss Amory looked as if she might explode, but then the slight twitch of a smile appeared on her lips, and all she said was, ‘Gentlemen are different.’
Barbara was having none of this. ‘They’re not in the least different,’ she said. ‘Or at any rate I can’t imagine why they should be allowed to be different. They simply got away with it in those days.’ She produced from her handbag a small mirror, a powder-puff and lipstick. ‘Well, how do we look?’ she asked herself. ‘Oh, my God!’ And she began vigorously to apply lipstick.
‘Really, Barbara,’ said her aunt, ‘I do wish you wouldn’t put quite so much of that red stuff on your lips. It’s such a very bright colour.’
‘I hope so,’ replied Barbara, still completing her make-up. ‘After all, it cost seven and sixpence.’
‘Seven shillings and sixpence! What a disgraceful waste of money, just for – for –’
‘For “Kissproof ”, Aunt Caroline.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘The lipstick. It’s called “Kissproof ”.’
Her aunt sniffed disapprovingly. ‘I know, of course,’ she said, ‘that one’s lips are inclined to chap if one has been out in a high wind, and that a little grease is advisable. Lanoline, for instance. I always use –’
Barbara interrupted her. ‘My dear Aunt Caroline, take it from me, a girl simply can’t have too much lipstick on. After all, she never knows how much of it she’s going to lose in the taxi coming home.’ As she spoke, she replaced the mirror, powder-puff and lipstick in her handbag.
Miss Amory looked puzzled. ‘What do you mean, “in the taxi coming home”?’ she asked. ‘I don’t understand.’
Barbara rose and, moving behind the settee, leaned over to Lucia. ‘Never mind. Lucia understands, don’t you, my love?’ she asked, giving Lucia’s chin a little tickle.
Lucia Amory looked around, blankly. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said to Barbara, ‘I haven’t been listening. What did you say?’
Focusing her attention on Lucia again, Caroline Amory returned to the subject of that young lady’s health. ‘You know, my dear,’ she said, ‘I really am worried about you.’ She looked from Lucia to Barbara. ‘She ought to have something, Barbara. What have we got now? Sal volatile, of course, that would be the very thing. Unfortunately, that careless Ellen broke my bottle this morning when she was dusting in my room.’
Pursing her lips, Barbara considered for a moment. ‘I know,’ she exclaimed. ‘The hospital stores!’
‘Hospital stores? What do you mean? What hospital stores?’ Miss Amory asked.
Barbara came and sat in a chair close to her aunt. ‘You remember,’ she reminded her. ‘All of Edna’s things.’
Miss Amory’s face brightened. ‘Ah, yes, of course!’ Turning to Lucia, she said, ‘I wish you had met Edna, my elder niece, Barbara’s sister. She went to India with her husband – oh, it must have been about three months before you came