Nemesis - Agatha Christie [90]
‘I think perhaps you’re right,’ said Clotilde. ‘They seemed to me to be slightly artificial, if you know what I mean.’
‘I think there’s something very sinister about them,’ said Anthea.
‘You’ve got such an imagination always,’ said Mrs Glynne. ‘Anyway, they were walking along the bottom path, weren’t they? You saw them there, didn’t you?’ she said to Miss Marple.
‘I can’t say that I noticed them particularly,’ said Miss Marple. ‘In fact, I had no opportunity of doing so.’
‘You mean —?’
‘She wasn’t there,’ said Clotilde. ‘She was here in our garden.’
‘Oh, of course. I forgot.’
‘A very nice, peaceful day it was,’ said Miss Marple. ‘I enjoyed it very much. Tomorrow morning I would like to go out and look again at that mass of white flowers coming into bloom at the end of the garden near that raised up mound. It was just beginning to come out the other day. It must be a mass of bloom now. I shall always remember that as part of my visit here, you know.’
‘I hate it,’ said Anthea. ‘I want it taken away. I want to build up a greenhouse again there. Surely if we save enough money we can do that, Clotilde?’
‘We’ll leave that alone,’ said Clotilde. ‘I don’t want that touched. What use is a greenhouse to us now? It would be years before grapes would bear fruit again.’
‘Come,’ said Mrs Glynne, ‘we can’t go on arguing over that. Let us go into the drawing-room. Our guests will be coming shortly for coffee.’
It was then that the guests had arrived. Clotilde brought in the tray of coffee. She poured out the cups and distributed them. She placed one before each guest and then brought one to Miss Marple. Miss Cooke leaned forward.
‘Oh, do forgive me, Miss Marple, but really, do you know, I shouldn’t drink that if I were you. Coffee, I mean, at this time of night. You won’t sleep properly.’
‘Oh, do you think so?’ said Miss Marple. ‘I am quite used to coffee in the evening.’
‘Yes, but this is very strong, good coffee. I should advise you not to drink it.’
Miss Marple looked at Miss Cooke. Miss Cooke’s face was very earnest, her fair, unnatural-looking hair flopped over one eye. The other eye blinked slightly.
‘I see what you mean,’ said Miss Marple. ‘Perhaps you are right. You know something, I gather, about diet.’
‘Oh yes, I make quite a study of it. I had some training in nursing, you know, and one thing and another.’
‘Indeed.’ Miss Marple pushed the cup away slightly. ‘I suppose there is no photograph of this girl?’ she asked. ‘Verity Hunt, or whatever her name was? The Archdeacon was talking about her. He seemed to have been very fond of her.’
‘I think he was. He was fond of all young people,’ said Clotilde.
She got up, went across the room and lifted the lid of a desk. From that she brought a photograph and brought it over for Miss Marple to see.
‘That was Verity,’ she said.
‘A beautiful face,’ said Miss Marple. ‘Yes, a very beautiful and unusual face. Poor child.’
‘It’s dreadful nowadays,’ said Anthea, ‘these things seem to be happening the whole time. Girls going out with every kind of young man. Nobody taking any trouble to look after them.’
‘They have to look after themselves nowadays,’ said Clotilde, ‘and they’ve no idea of how to do it, heaven help them!’
She stretched out a hand to take back the photograph from Miss Marple. As she did so her sleeve caught the coffee cup and knocked it to the floor.
‘Oh dear!’ said Miss Marple. ‘Was that my fault? Did I jog your arm?’
‘No,’ said Clotilde, ‘it was my sleeve. It’s rather a floating sleeve. Perhaps you would like some hot milk, if you are afraid to take coffee?’
‘That would be very kind,’ said Miss Marple. ‘A glass of hot milk when I go to bed would be very soothing indeed, and always gives one a good night.’
After a little more desultory conversation, Miss Cooke and Miss Barrow took their departure. A rather fussy departure in which first one and then the other came back to collect some article they’d left behind. A scarf, a handbag and a pocket handkerchief.