By the Pricking of My Thumbs - Agatha Christie [28]
‘Bright colours,’ said Mr Perry. ‘I like bright colours. We often get folk to see our garden,’ he said. ‘Glad you came.’
‘Thank you very much,’ said Tuppence. ‘I think your garden and your house are very nice indeed.’
‘You ought to see t’other side of it.’
‘Is it to let or to be sold? Your wife says there’s nobody living there now.’
‘We don’t know. We’ve not seen anyone and there’s no board up and nobody’s ever come to see over it.’
‘It would be a nice house, I think, to live in.’
‘You wanting a house?’
‘Yes,’ said Tuppence, making up her mind quickly. ‘Yes, as a matter of fact, we are looking round for some small place in the country, for when my husband retires. That’ll be next year probably, but we like to look about in plenty of time.’
‘It’s quiet here if you like quiet.’
‘I suppose,’ said Tuppence, ‘I could ask the local house agents. Is that how you got your house?’
‘Saw an advertisement first we did in the paper. Then we went to the house agents, yes.’
‘Where was that–in Sutton Chancellor? That’s your village, isn’t it?’
‘Sutton Chancellor? No. Agents’ place is in Market Basing. Russell & Thompson, that’s the name. You could go to them and ask.’
‘Yes,’ said Tuppence, ‘so I could. How far is Market Basing from here?’
‘It’s two miles to Sutton Chancellor and it’s seven miles to Market Basing from there. There’s a proper road from Sutton Chancellor, but it’s all lanes hereabouts.’
‘I see,’ said Tuppence. ‘Well, goodbye, Mr Perry, and thank you very much for showing me your garden.’
‘Wait a bit.’ He stooped, cut off an enormous paeony and taking Tuppence by the lapel of her coat, he inserted this through the buttonhole in it. ‘There,’ he said, ‘there you are. Looks pretty, it does.’
For a moment Tuppence felt a sudden feeling of panic. This large, shambling, good-natured man suddenly frightened her. He was looking down at her, smiling. Smiling rather wildly, almost leering. ‘Pretty it looks on you,’ he said again. ‘Pretty.’
Tuppence thought ‘I’m glad I’m not a young girl…I don’t think I’d like him putting a flower on me then.’ She said goodbye again and hurried away.
The house door was open and Tuppence went in to say goodbye to Mrs Perry. Mrs Perry was in the kitchen, washing up the tea things and Tuppence almost automatically pulled a teacloth off the rack and started drying.
‘Thank you so much,’ she said, ‘both you and your husband. You’ve been so kind and hospitable to me–What’s that?’
From the wall of the kitchen, or rather behind the wall where an old-fashioned range had once stood, there came a loud screaming and squawking and a scratching noise too.
‘That’ll be a jackdaw,’ said Mrs Perry, ‘dropped down the chimney in the other house. They do this time of the year. One came down our chimney last week. They make nests in the chimneys, you know.’
‘What–in the other house?’
‘Yes, there it is again.’
Again the squawking and crying of a distressed bird came to their ears. Mrs Perry said, ‘There’s no one to bother, you see, in the empty house. The chimneys ought to be swept and all that.’
The squawking scratching noises went on.
‘Poor bird,’ said Tuppence.
‘I know. It won’t be able to get up again.’
‘You mean it’ll just die there?’
‘Oh yes. One came down our chimney as I say. Two of them, actually. One was a young bird. It was all right, we put it out and it flew away. The other one was dead.’
The frenzied scuffling and squeaking went on.
‘Oh,’ said Tuppence, ‘I wish we could get at it.’
Mr Perry came in through the door. ‘Anything the matter?’ he said, looking from one to the other.
‘There’s a bird, Amos. It must be in the drawing-room chimney next door. Hear it?’
‘Eh, it’s come down from the jackdaws’ nest.’
‘I wish we could get in there,’ said Mrs Perry.
‘Ah, you can’t do anything. They’ll die from the fright, if nothing else.’
‘Then it’ll smell,’ said Mrs Perry.
‘You won’t smell anything in here. You’re soft-hearted,’ he went on, looking from one to the other, ‘like all females. We’ll get it if you like.’
‘Why, is one of the windows