Hallowe'en Party - Agatha Christie [82]
‘I don’t think I want to take Miranda. I could leave her here with someone, with the Reynolds or Rowena Drake.’
‘Miranda’s coming, too,’ Mrs Oliver interrupted definitely. ‘Don’t make difficulties, Judy. This is serious. I don’t see how you can even consider leaving her with the Reynolds. Two of the Reynolds children have been killed, haven’t they?’
‘Yes, yes, that’s true enough. You think there’s something wrong with that house. I mean there’s someone there who—oh, what do I mean?’
‘We’re talking too much,’ said Mrs Oliver. ‘Anyway,’ she added, ‘if anyone is going to be killed, it seems to me that probably the most likely one would be Ann Reynolds.’
‘What’s the matter with the family? Why should they all get killed, one after another? Oh, Ariadne, it’s frightening!’
‘Yes,’ said Mrs Oliver, ‘but there are times when it’s quite right to be frightened. I’ve just had a telegram and I’m acting upon it.’
‘Oh, I didn’t hear the telephone.’
‘It didn’t come through the telephone. It came to the door.’
She hesitated a moment, then she held it out to her friend.
‘What’s this mean? Operation?’
‘Tonsils, probably,’ said Mrs Oliver. ‘Miranda had a bad throat last week, hadn’t she? Well, what more likely than that she should be taken to consult a throat specialist in London?’
‘Are you quite mad, Ariadne?’
‘Probably,’ said Mrs Oliver, ‘raving mad. Come on. Miranda will enjoy being in London. You needn’t worry. She’s not going to have any operation. That’s what’s called “cover” in spy stories. We’ll take her to a theatre, or an opera or the ballet, whichever way her tastes lie. On the whole I think it would be best to take her to the ballet.’
‘I’m frightened,’ said Judith.
Ariadne Oliver looked at her friend. She was trembling slightly. She looked more than ever, Mrs Oliver thought, like Undine. She looked divorced from reality.
‘Come on,’ said Mrs Oliver, ‘I promised Hercule Poirot I’d bring you when he gave me the word. Well, he’s given me the word.’
‘What’s going on in this place?’ said Judith. ‘I can’t think why I ever came here.’
‘I sometimes wondered why you did,’ said Mrs Oliver, ‘but there’s no accounting for where people go to live. A friend of mine went to live in Moreton-in-the-Marsh the other day. I asked him why he wanted to go and live there. He said he’d always wanted to and thought about it. Whenever he retired he meant to go there. I said that I hadn’t been to it myself but it sounded to me bound to be damp. What was it actually like? He said he didn’t know what it was like because he’d never been there himself. But he had always wanted to live there. He was quite sane, too.’
‘Did he go?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did he like it when he got there?’
‘Well, I haven’t heard that yet,’ said Mrs Oliver. ‘But people are very odd, aren’t they? The things they want to do, the things they simply have to do…’ She went to the garden and called, ‘Miranda, we’re going to London.’
Miranda came slowly towards them.
‘Going to London?’
‘Ariadne’s going to drive us there,’ said her mother.
‘We’ll go and see a theatre there. Mrs Oliver thinks perhaps she can get tickets for the ballet. Would you like to go to the ballet?’
‘I’d love it,’ said Miranda. Her eyes lighted up. ‘I must go and say goodbye to one of my friends first.’
‘We’re going practically at once.’
‘Oh, I shan’t be as long as that, but I must explain. There are things I promised to do.’
She ran down the garden and disappeared through the gate.
‘Who are Miranda’s friends?’ asked Mrs Oliver, with some curiosity.’
‘I never really know,’ said Judith. ‘She never tells one things, you know. Sometimes I think that the only things that she really feels are her friends are the birds she looks at in the woods. Or squirrels or things like that. I think everybody likes her but I don’t know that she has any particular friends. I mean, she doesn’t bring back girls to tea and things like that. Not as much as other girls do.