Curtain - Agatha Christie [42]
He said sharply: ‘What is it? Is anything the matter?’
None of us answered for a minute, then Barbara Franklin said with a little artificial laugh: ‘No, of course not. What should be the matter? It’s just – perhaps thunder coming? I – oh dear – I’m terribly tired. Bring those things up, will you, Captain Hastings? Thank you so much.’
I followed her up the stairs and along the east wing. Her room was the end one on that side.
Mrs Franklin opened the door. I was behind her, my arms full of parcels.
She stopped abruptly in the doorway. By the window Boyd Carrington was having his palm examined by Nurse Craven.
He looked up and laughed a little sheepishly. ‘Hullo, I’m having my fortune told. Nurse is no end of a hand-reader.’
‘Really? I had no idea of that.’ Barbara Franklin’s voice was sharp. I had an idea that she was annoyed with Nurse Craven. ‘Please take these things, Nurse, will you? And you might mix me an egg-flip. I feel very tired. A hot-water bottle, too, please. I’ll get to bed as soon as possible.’
‘Certainly, Mrs Franklin.’
Nurse Craven moved forward. She showed no signs of anything but professional concern.
Mrs Franklin said: ‘Please go, Bill, I’m terribly tired.’
Boyd Carrington looked very concerned. ‘Oh, I say, Babs, has it been too much for you? I am sorry. What a thoughtless fool I am. I shouldn’t have let you overtire yourself.’
Mrs Franklin gave him her angelic martyr’s smile. ‘I didn’t want to say anything. I do hate being tiresome.’
We two men went out of the room, somewhat abashed, and left the two women together.
Boyd Carrington said contritely: ‘What a damned fool I am. Barbara seemed so bright and gay I forgot all about tiring her. Hope she’s not knocked herself up.’
I said mechanically: ‘Oh, I expect she’ll be all right after a night’s rest.’
He went down the stairs. I hesitated and then went along the other wing towards my own room, and Poirot’s. The little man would be expecting me. For the first time I was reluctant to go to him. I had so much to occupy my thoughts, and I still had that dull sick feeling at the pit of my stomach.
I went slowly along the corridor.
From inside Allerton’s room I heard voices. I don’t think I meant consciously to listen though I stopped for a minute automatically outside his door. Then, suddenly, the door opened and my daughter Judith came out.
She stopped dead when she saw me. I caught her by the arm and hustled her along into my room. I was suddenly intensely angry.
‘What do you mean by going to that fellow’s room?’ She looked at me steadily. She showed no anger now, only complete coldness. For some few seconds she did not reply.
I shook her by the arm. ‘I won’t have it, I tell you. You don’t know what you are doing.’
She said then, in a low biting voice: ‘I think you have a perfectly filthy mind.’
I said: ‘I dare say I have. It’s a reproach your generation is fond of levelling at mine. We have, at least, certain standards. Understand this, Judith, I forbid you absolutely to have anything more to do with that man.’
She looked at me steadily. Then she said quietly: ‘I see. So that’s it.’
‘Do you deny that you’re in love with him?’
‘No.’
‘But you don’t know what he is. You can’t know.’ Deliberately, without mincing my language, I repeated to her the story I had heard about Allerton.
‘You see,’ I said when I had finished. ‘That’s the kind of foul brute he is.’
She seemed quite annoyed. Her lips curled upwards scornfully.
‘I never thought he was a saint, I can assure you.’
‘Doesn’t this make any difference to you? Judith, you can’t be utterly depraved.’
‘Call it that if you like.’
‘Judith, you haven’t – you aren’t –’
I could not put my meaning into words. She shook her arm free from my detaining hand.
‘Now, listen, Father. I do what I choose. You can’t bully me. And it’s no good ranting. I shall do exactly as I please with my life, and you can’t stop me.’
In another instant she was out of the room.
I found my knees trembling.
I sank down on to a chair. It was worse – much