N or M_ - Agatha Christie [0]
N or M?
Contents
Chapter 1
Tommy Beresford removed his overcoat in the hall of the…
Chapter 2
How Tommy got through that evening he never quite knew.
Chapter 3
On the sheltered terrace outside, Miss Minton was knitting.
Chapter 4
When Tuppence entered the lounge at Sans Souci just before dinner,…
Chapter 5
Commander Haydock turned out to be a most genial host.
Chapter 6
Tommy looked rather gingerly at the packet that Tuppence thrust…
Chapter 7
On the following day Mrs Sprot went up to London.
Chapter 8
The inquest on the dead woman was held some days…
Chapter 9
‘Seems quite like old times, doesn’t it, madam?’ said Albert.
Chapter 10
‘Did you say Three Spades, Mrs Blenkensop?’
Chapter 11
It was Tuppence’s turn to talk to the fisherman on…
Chapter 12
After long aeons of unconsciousness, Tommy began to be aware…
Chapter 13
Although Tuppence went to bed in an optimistic frame of…
Chapter 14
A flood of wild surmises as to the part Commander…
Chapter 15
‘I ought to have known it all along,’ said Tuppence.
Chapter 16
‘Darling,’ said Deborah. ‘Do you know I almost thought the…
About the Author
Other Books by Agatha Christie
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
Chapter 1
Tommy Beresford removed his overcoat in the hall of the flat. He hung it up with some care, taking time over it. His hat went carefully on the next peg.
He squared his shoulders, affixed a resolute smile to his face and walked into the sitting-room, where his wife sat knitting a Balaclava helmet in khaki wool.
It was the spring of 1940.
Mrs Beresford gave him a quick glance and then busied herself by knitting at a furious rate. She said after a minute or two:
‘Any news in the evening paper?’
Tommy said:
‘The Blitzkrieg is coming, hurray, hurray! Things look bad in France.’
Tuppence said:
‘It’s a depressing world at the moment.’
There was a pause and then Tommy said:
‘Well, why don’t you ask? No need to be so damned tactful.’
‘I know,’ admitted Tuppence. ‘There is something about conscious tact that is very irritating. But then it irritates you if I do ask. And anyway I don’t need to ask. It’s written all over you.’
‘I wasn’t conscious of looking a Dismal Desmond.’
‘No, darling,’ said Tuppence. ‘You had a kind of nailed to the mast smile which was one of the most heartrending things I have ever seen.’
Tommy said with a grin:
‘No, was it really as bad as all that?’
‘And more! Well, come on, out with it. Nothing doing?’
‘Nothing doing. They don’t want me in any capacity. I tell you, Tuppence, it’s pretty thick when a man of forty-six is made to feel like a doddering grandfather. Army, Navy, Air Force, Foreign Office, one and all say the same thing–I’m too old. I may be required later.’
Tuppence said:
‘Well, it’s the same for me. They don’t want people of my age for nursing–no, thank you. Nor for anything else. They’d rather have a fluffy chit who’s never seen a wound or sterilised a dressing than they would have me who worked for three years, 1915 to 1918, in various capacities, nurse in the surgical ward and operating theatre, driver of a trade delivery van and later of a General. This, that and the other–all, I assert firmly, with conspicuous success. And now I’m a poor, pushing, tiresome, middle-aged woman who won’t sit at home quietly and knit as she ought to do.’
Tommy said gloomily:
‘This war is hell.’
‘It’s bad enough having a war,’ said Tuppence, ‘but not being allowed to do anything in it just puts the lid on.’
Tommy said consolingly:
‘Well, at any rate Deborah has got a job.’
Deborah’s mother said:
‘Oh, she’s all right. I expect she’s good at it, too. But I still think, Tommy, that I could hold my own with Deborah.’
Tommy grinned.
‘She wouldn’t think so.’
Tuppence said:
‘Daughters can be very trying. Especially when they will be so kind to you.’
Tommy murmured:
‘The way young Derek makes allowances for me is sometimes rather hard to bear. That “poor old Dad” look in his eye.’
‘In fact,’ said Tuppence, ‘our children, although quite adorable, are also quite