Cat Among the Pigeons - Agatha Christie [4]
The next comers were Mrs. Upjohn and her daughter Julia.
Mrs. Upjohn was an agreeable young woman in the late thirties with sandy hair, freckles and an unbecoming hat which was clearly a concession to the seriousness of the occasion, since she was obviously the type of young woman who usually went hatless.
Julia was a plain freckled child, with an intelligent forehead, and an air of good humour.
The preliminaries were quickly gone through and Julia was despatched via Margaret to Miss Johnson, saying cheerfully as she went, “So long, Mum. Do be careful lighting that gas heater now that I’m not there to do it.”
Miss Bulstrode turned smilingly to Mrs. Upjohn, but did not ask her to sit. It was possible that, despite Julia’s appearance of cheerful common sense, her mother, too, might want to explain that her daughter was highly strung.
“Is there anything special you want to tell me about Julia?” she asked.
Mrs. Upjohn replied cheerfully:
“Oh no, I don’t think so. Julia’s a very ordinary sort of child. Quite healthy and all that. I think she’s got reasonably good brains, too, but I daresay mothers usually think that about their children, don’t they?”
“Mothers,” said Miss Bulstrode grimly, “vary!”
“It’s wonderful for her to be able to come here,” said Mrs. Upjohn. “My aunt’s paying for it, really, or helping. I couldn’t afford it myself. But I’m awfully pleased about it. And so is Julia.” She moved to the window as she said enviously, “How lovely your garden is. And so tidy. You must have lots of real gardeners.”
“We had three,” said Miss Bulstrode, “but just now we’re shorthanded except for local labour.”
“Of course the trouble nowadays,” said Mrs. Upjohn, “is that what one calls a gardener usually isn’t a gardener, just a milkman who wants to do something in his spare time, or an old man of eighty. I sometimes think—Why!” exclaimed Mrs. Upjohn, still gazing out of the window—“how extraordinary!”
Miss Bulstrode paid less attention to this sudden exclamation than she should have done. For at that moment she herself had glanced casually out of the other window which gave on to the rhododendron shrubbery, and had perceived a highly unwelcome sight, none other than Lady Veronica Carlton-Sandways, weaving her way along the path, her large black velvet hat on one side, muttering to herself and clearly in a state of advanced intoxication.
Lady Veronica was not an unknown hazard. She was a charming woman, deeply attached to her twin daughters, and very delightful when she was, as they put it, herself—but unfortunately at unpredictable intervals, she was not herself. Her husband, Major Carlton-Sandways, coped fairly well. A cousin lived with them, who was usually at hand to keep an eye on Lady Veronica and head her off if necessary. On Sports Day, with both Major Carlton-Sandways and the cousin in close attendance, Lady Veronica arrived completely sober and beautifully dressed and was a pattern of what a mother should be.
But there were times when Lady Veronica gave her well-wishers the slip, tanked herself up and made a beeline for her daughters to assure them of her maternal love. The twins had arrived by train early today, but no one had expected Lady Veronica.
Mrs. Upjohn was still talking. But Miss Bulstrode was not listening. She was reviewing various courses of action, for she recognized that Lady Veronica was fast approaching the truculent stage. But suddenly, an answer to prayer, Miss Chadwick appeared at a brisk trot, slightly out of breath. Faithful Chaddy, thought Miss Bulstrode. Always to be relied upon, whether it was a severed artery or an intoxicated parent.
“Disgraceful,” said Lady Veronica to her loudly. “Tried to keep me away—didn’t want me to come down here—I fooled Edith all right. Went