By the Pricking of My Thumbs - Agatha Christie [46]
‘Really,’ thought Tuppence. ‘I am beginning to feel as if the whole of the country is full of nothing but Homes for the Elderly! I suppose in next to no time Tommy and I will be living in one!’
Only the other day, some would-be kind and helpful friend had written to recommend a very nice address in Devon–married couples–mostly retired Service people. Quite good cooking–You brought your own furniture and personal belongings.
Miss Bligh reappeared with the teapot and the two ladies sat down to tea.
Miss Bligh’s conversation was of a less melodramatic and juicy nature than that of Mrs Copleigh, and was concerned more with the procuring of information, than of giving it.
Tuppence murmured vaguely of past years of Service abroad–the domestic difficulties of life in England, gave details of a married son and a married daughter both with children and gently steered the conversation to the activities of Miss Bligh in Sutton Chancellor which were numerous–The Women’s Institute, Guides, Scouts, the Conservative Ladies Union, Lectures, Greek Art, Jam Making, Flower Arrangement, the Sketching Club, the Friends of Archaeology–The vicar’s health, the necessity of making him take care of himself, his absentmindedness–Unfortunate differences of opinion between churchwardens–
Tuppence praised the scones, thanked her hostess for her hospitality and rose to go.
‘You are so wonderfully energetic, Miss Bligh,’ she said. ‘How you manage to do all you do, I cannot imagine. I must confess that after a day’s excursion and shopping, I like just a nice little rest on my bed–just half an hour or so of shut-eye–A very comfortable bed, too. I must thank you very much for recommending me to Mrs Copleigh–’
‘A most reliable woman, though of course she talks too much–’
‘Oh! I found all her local tales most entertaining.’
‘Half the time she doesn’t know what she’s talking about! Are you staying here for long?’
‘Oh no–I’m going home tomorrow. I’m disappointed at not having heard of any suitable little property–I had hopes of that very picturesque house by the canal–’
‘You’re well out of that. It’s in a very poor state of repair–Absentee landlords–it’s a disgrace–’
‘I couldn’t even find out who it belongs to. I expect you know. You seem to know everything here–’
‘I’ve never taken much interest in that house. It’s always changing hands–One can’t keep pace. The Perrys live in half of it–and the other half just goes to rack and ruin.’
Tuppence said goodbye again and drove back to Mrs Copleigh’s. The house was quiet and apparently empty. Tuppence went up to her bedroom, deposited her empty shopping bag, washed her face and powdered her nose, tiptoed out of the house again, looking up and down the street, then leaving her car where it was, she walked swiftly round the corner, and took a footpath through the field behind the village which eventually led to a stile into the churchyard.
Tuppence went over the stile into the churchyard, peaceful in the evening sun, and began to examine the tombstones as she had promised. She had not really had any ulterior motive in doing so. There was nothing here she hoped to discover. It was really just kindliness on her part. The elderly vicar was rather a dear, and she would like him to feel that his conscience was entirely satisfied. She had brought a notebook and pencil with her in case there was anything of interest to note down for him. She presumed she was merely to look for a gravestone that might have been put up commemorating the death of some child of the required age. Most of the graves here were of an older date. They were not very interesting, not old enough to be quaint or to have touching or tender inscriptions. They were mostly of fairly elderly people. Yet she lingered a little as she went along, making mental pictures in her mind. Jane Elwood, departed this life January the 6th, aged 45. William Marl, departed this life January the 5th, deeply regretted. Mary Treves, five years old. March 14th 1835.