By the Pricking of My Thumbs - Agatha Christie [22]
Albert lived in a small neat house a street or two away.
‘It’s not that so much–She likes me out of the way when she’s got her hands full–she doesn’t want me messing things up–But it’s the other kids–I could take ’em somewhere out of her way.’
‘Of course. You’re all in quarantine, I suppose.’
‘Oh! well, best for ’em all to get it, and get it over. Charlie’s had it, and so has Jean. Anyway, that’ll be all right?’
Tuppence assured him that it would be all right.
Something was stirring in the depths of her subconscious–A happy anticipation–a recognition–Measles –Yes, measles. Something to do with measles.
But why should the house by the canal have anything to do with measles…?
Of course! Anthea. Anthea was Tuppence’s god-daughter–and Anthea’s daughter Jane was at school–her first term–and it was Prize Giving and Anthea had rung up–her two younger children had come out in a measle rash and she had nobody in the house to help and Jane would be terribly disappointed if nobody came–Could Tuppence possibly?–
And Tuppence had said of course–She wasn’t doing anything particular–she’d go down to the school and take Jane out and give her lunch and then go back to the sports and all the rest of it. There was a special school train.
Everything came back into her mind with astonishing clarity–even the dress she’d worn–a summer print of cornflowers!
She had seen the house on the return journey.
Going down there she had been absorbed in a magazine she had bought, but coming back she had had nothing to read, and she had looked out of the window until, exhausted by the activities of the day, and the pressure of her shoes, she had dropped off to sleep.
When she had woken up the train had been running beside a canal. It was partially wooded country, an occasional bridge, sometimes a twisting lane or minor road–a distant farm–no villages.
The train began to slow down, for no reason it would seem, except that a signal must be against it. It drew jerkily to a halt by a bridge, a little hump-backed bridge which spanned the canal, a disused canal presumably. On the other side of the canal, close to the water, was the house–a house that Tuppence thought at once was one of the most attractive houses she had ever seen–a quiet, peaceful house, irradiated by the golden light of the late afternoon sun.
There was no human being to be seen–no dogs, or livestock. Yet the green shutters were not fastened. The house must be lived in, but now, at this moment, it was empty.
‘I must find out about that house,’ Tuppence had thought. ‘Someday I must come back here and look at it. It’s the kind of house I’d like to live in.’
With a jerk the train lurched slowly forwards.
‘I’ll look out for the name of the next station–so that I’ll know where it is.’
But there had been no appropriate station. It was the time when things were beginning to happen to railways–small stations were closed, even pulled down, grass sprouted on the decayed platforms. For twenty minutes–half an hour–the train ran on, but nothing identifiable was to be seen. Over fields, in the far distance, Tuppence once saw the spire of a church.
Then had come some factory complex–tall chimneys–a line of pre-fab houses, then open country again.
Tuppence had thought to herself–That house was rather like a dream! Perhaps it was a dream–I don’t suppose I’ll ever go and look for it–too difficult. Besides, rather a pity, perhaps–
Someday, maybe, I’ll come across it by accident!
And so–she had forgotten all about it–until a picture hanging on a wall had reawakened a veiled memory.
And now, thanks to one word uttered unwittingly by Albert, the quest was ended.
Or, to speak correctly, a quest was beginning.
Tuppence sorted out three maps, a guide-book, and various other accessories.
Roughly now she knew the area she would have to search. Jane’s school she marked with a large cross–the branch railway line, which ran into the main line to London–the time lapse whilst she had slept.
The final area as planned