Evil Under the Sun - Agatha Christie [17]
Linda said:
“No, I’ve been bathing.”
Noticing the parcel in her hand, Christine said with surprise:
“The post has come early today.”
Linda flushed. With her habitual nervous clumsiness the parcel slipped from her hand. The flimsy string broke and some of the contents rolled over the floor.
Christine exclaimed:
“What have you been buying candles for?”
But to Linda’s relief she did not wait for an answer, but went on, as she helped to pick the things up from the floor.
“I came in to ask whether you would like to come with me to Gull Cove this morning. I want to sketch there.”
Linda accepted with alacrity.
In the last few days she had accompanied Christine Redfern more than once on sketching expeditions. Christine was a most indifferent artist, but it is possible that she found the excuse of painting a help to her pride since her husband now spent most of his time with Arlena Marshall.
Linda Marshall had been increasingly morose and bad tempered. She liked being with Christine who, intent on her work, spoke very little. It was, Linda felt, nearly as good as being by oneself, and in a curious way she craved for company of some kind. There was a subtle kind of sympathy between her and the elder woman, probably based on the fact of their mutual dislike of the same person.
Christine said:
“I’m playing tennis at twelve, so we’d better start fairly early. Half past ten?”
“Right. I’ll be ready. Meet you in the hall.”
III
Rosamund Darnley, strolling out of the dining room after a very late breakfast, was cannoned into by Linda as the latter came tearing down the stairs.
“Oh! sorry, Miss Darnley.”
Rosamund said: “Lovely morning, isn’t it? One can hardly believe it after yesterday.”
“I know. I’m going with Mrs. Redfern to Gull Cove. I said I’d meet her at half past ten. I thought I was late.”
“No, it’s only twenty-five past.”
“Oh! good.”
She was panting a little and Rosamund looked at her curiously.
“You’re not feverish, are you, Linda?”
The girls’ eyes were very bright and she had a vivid patch of colour in each cheek.
“Oh! no. I’m never feverish.”
Rosamund smiled and said:
“It’s such a lovely day I got up for breakfast. Usually I have it in bed. But today I came down and faced eggs and bacon like a man.”
“I know—it’s heavenly after yesterday. Gull Cove is nice in the morning. I shall put a lot of oil on and get really brown.”
Rosamund said:
“Yes, Gull Cove is nice in the morning. And it’s more peaceful than the beach here.”
Linda said, rather shyly:
“Come too.”
Rosamund shook her head.
She said:
“Not this morning. I’ve other fish to fry.”
Christine Redfern came down the stairs.
She was wearing beach pyjamas of a loose floppy pattern with long sleeves and wide legs. They were made of some green material with a yellow design. Rosamund’s tongue itched to tell her that yellow and green were the most unbecoming colours possible for her fair, slightly anaemic complexion. It always annoyed Rosamund when people had no clothes sense.
She thought: “If I dressed that girl, I’d soon make her husband sit up and take notice. However much of a fool Arlena is, she does know how to dress. This wretched girl looks just like a wilting lettuce.”
Aloud she said:
“Have a nice time. I’m going to Sunny Ledge with a book.”
IV
Hercule Poirot breakfasted in his room as usual off coffee and rolls.
The beauty of the morning, however, tempted him to leave the hotel earlier than usual. It was ten o’clock, at least half an hour before his usual appearance, when he descended to the bathing beach. The beach itself was empty save for one person.
That person was Arlena Marshall.
Clad in her white bathing dress, the green Chinese hat on her head, she was trying to launch a white wooden float. Poirot came gallantly to the rescue, completely immersing a pair of white suède shoes in doing so.
She thanked him with one of those sideways glances of hers.
Just as she was pushing off, she called him.
“M. Poirot?”
Poirot leaped to the water’s edge.