Murder Is Easy - Agatha Christie [38]
Twelve
PASSAGE OF ARMS
The afternoon of the tennis party was fortunately fine. Lord Whitfield was in his most genial mood, acting the part of the host with a good deal of enjoyment. He referred frequently to his humble origin. The players were eight in all. Lord Whitfield, Bridget, Luke, Rose Humbleby, Mr. Abbot, Dr. Thomas, Major Horton and Hetty Jones, a giggling young woman who was the daughter of the bank manager.
In the second set of the afternoon, Luke found himself partnering Bridget against Lord Whitfield and Rose Humbleby. Rose was a good player with a strong forehand drive and played in county matches. She atoned for Lord Whitfield’s failures, and Bridget and Luke, who were neither of them particularly strong, made quite an even match of it. They were three games all, and then Luke found a streak of erratic brilliance and he and Bridget forged ahead to five-three.
It was then he observed that Lord Whitfield was losing his temper. He argued over a line ball, declared a serve to be a fault in spite of Rose’s disclaimer, and displayed all the attributes of a peevish child. It was set point, but Bridget sent an easy shot into the net and immediately after served a double fault. Deuce. The next ball was returned down the middle line and as he prepared to take it he and his partner collided. Then Bridget served another double fault and the game was lost.
Bridget apologized. “Sorry, I’ve gone to pieces.”
It seemed true enough. Bridget’s shots were wild and she seemed to be unable to do anything right. The set ended with Lord Whitfield and his partner victorious at the score of eight-six.
There was a momentary discussion as to the composition of the next set. In the end Rose played again with Mr. Abbot as her partner against Dr. Thomas and Miss Jones.
Lord Whitfield sat down, wiping his forehead and smiling complacently, his good humour quite restored. He began to talk to Major Horton on the subject of a series of articles on Fitness for Britain which one of his papers was starring.
Luke said to Bridget:
“Show me the kitchen garden.”
“Why the kitchen garden?”
“I have a feeling for cabbages.”
“Won’t green peas do?”
“Green peas would be admirable.”
They walked away from the tennis court and came to the walled kitchen garden. It was empty of gardeners this Saturday afternoon and looked lazy and peaceful in the sunshine.
“Here are your peas,” said Bridget.
Luke paid no attention to the object of the visit. He said:
“Why the hell did you give them the set?”
Bridget’s eyebrows went up a fraction.
“I’m sorry. I went to bits. My tennis is erratic.”
“Not so erratic as that! Those double faults of yours wouldn’t deceive a child! And those wild shots—each of them half a mile out!”
Bridget said calmly:
“That’s because I’m such a rotten tennis player. If I were a bit better I could perhaps have made it a bit more plausible! But as it is if I try to make a ball go just out, it’s always on the line and all the good work still to do.”
“Oh, you admit it then?”
“Obvious, my dear Watson.”
“And the reason?”
“Equally obvious, I should have thought. Gordon doesn’t like losing.”
“And what about me? Supposing I like to win?”
“I’m afraid, my dear Luke, that that isn’t equally important.”
“Would you like to make your meaning just a little clearer still?”
“Certainly, if you like. One mustn’t quarrel with one’s bread and butter. Gordon is my bread and butter. You are not.”
Luke drew a deep breath. Then he exploded.
“What the hell do you mean by marrying that absurd little man? Why are you doing it?”
“Because as his secretary I get six pounds a week, and as his wife I shall get a hundred thousand settled on me, a jewel case full of pearls and diamonds, a handsome allowance, and various perquisites of the married state!”
“But for somewhat different duties!”
Bridget said coldly:
“Must we have this melodramatic attitude towards every single thing in life? If you are contemplating a pretty picture of Gordon as an uxorious husband, you can wash it right out! Gordon, as you should have realized, is a small boy