Caribbean Mystery - Agatha Christie [28]
“What’s the matter, Greg? Seen a ghost?” asked Mrs. Dyson, as she came along the path from their bungalow.
“Thought I had for a minute or two.”
“Who was that you were talking to?”
“The coloured girl who does our place. Victoria, her name is, isn’t it?”
“What did she want? Making a pass at you?”
“Don’t be stupid, Lucky. That girl’s got some idiotic idea into her head.”
“Idea about what?”
“You remember I couldn’t find my Serenite the other day?”
“You said you couldn’t.”
“What do you mean ‘I said I couldn’t?’”
“Oh, for heck’s sake, have you got to take me up on everything?”
“I’m sorry,” said Greg. “Everybody goes about being so damn’ mysterious.” He held out his hand with the bottle in it. “That girl brought them back to me.”
“Had she pinched them?”
“No. She—found them somewhere I think.”
“Well, what of it? What’s the mystery about?”
“Oh, nothing,” said Greg. “She just riled me, that’s all.”
“Look here, Greg, what is this stuff all about? Come along and have a drink before dinner.”
II
Molly had gone down to the beach. She pulled out one of the old basket chairs, one of the more rickety ones that were seldom used. She sat in it for a while looking at the sea, then suddenly she dropped her head in her hands and burst into tears. She sat there sobbing unrestrainedly for some time. Then she heard a rustle close by her and glanced up sharply to see Mrs. Hillingdon looking down at her.
“Hallo, Evelyn, I didn’t hear you. I—I’m sorry.”
“What’s the matter, child?” said Evelyn. “Something gone wrong?” She pulled another chair forward and sat down. “Tell me.”
“There’s nothing wrong,” said Molly. “Nothing at all.”
“Of course there is. You wouldn’t sit and cry here for nothing. Can’t you tell me? Is it—some trouble between you and Tim?”
“Oh no.”
“I’m glad of that. You always look so happy together.”
“Not more than you do,” said Molly. “Tim and I always think how wonderful it is that you and Edward should seem so happy together after being married so many years.”
“Oh, that,” said Evelyn. Her voice was sharp as she spoke but Molly hardly noticed.
“People bicker so,” she said, “and have such rows. Even if they’re quite fond of each other they still seem to have rows and not to mind a bit whether they have them in public or not.”
“Some people like living that way,” said Evelyn. “It doesn’t really mean anything.”
“Well, I think it’s horrid,” said Molly.
“So do I, really,” said Evelyn.
“But to see you and Edward—”
“Oh it’s no good, Molly. I can’t let you go on thinking things of that kind. Edward and I—” she paused. “If you want to know the truth, we’ve hardly said a word to each other in private for the last three years.”
“What!” Molly stared at her, appalled. “I—I can’t believe it.”
“Oh, we both put up quite a good show,” said Evelyn. “We’re neither of us the kind that like having rows in public. And anyway there’s nothing really to have a row about.”
“But what went wrong?” asked Molly.
“Just the usual.”
“What do you mean by the usual? Another—”
“Yes, another woman in the case, and I don’t suppose it will be difficult for you to guess who the woman is.”
“Do you mean Mrs. Dyson—Lucky?”
Evelyn nodded.
“I know they always flirt together a lot,” said Molly, “but I thought that was just….”
“Just high spirits?” said Evelyn. “Nothing behind it?”
“But why—” Molly paused and tried again. “But didn’t you—oh I mean, well I suppose I oughtn’t to ask.”
“Ask anything you like,” said Evelyn. “I’m tired of never saying a word, tired of being a well-bred happy wife. Edward just lost his head completely about Lucky. He was stupid enough to come and tell me about it. It made him feel better I suppose. Truthful. Honourable. All that sort of stuff. It didn’t occur to him to think that it wouldn’t make me feel better.”
“Did he want to leave you?”
Evelyn shook her head. “We’ve got two children, you know,” she said. “Children whom we’re both very fond of. They’re at school in England. We didn’t want to break up the home. And then of course, Lucky