Passenger to Frankfurt - Agatha Christie [94]
TO STAFFORD NYE BXY42698
ACCEPT SYBIL AS BRIDESMAID SUGGEST GREAT AUNT MATILDA AS MATRON OF HONOUR STOP ALSO ACCEPT PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE THOUGH NOT OFFICIALLY MADE STOP C OF E QUITE SATISFACTORY ALSO HONEYMOON ARRANGEMENTS STOP INSIST PANDA SHOULD ALSO BE PRESENT STOP NO GOOD SAYING WHERE I AM AS I SHANT BE WHEN THIS REACHES YOU STOP SIGNED MARY ANN
‘Do I look all right?’ asked Stafford Nye nervously, twisting his head to look in the glass.
He was having a dress rehearsal of his wedding clothes.
‘No worse than any other bridegroom,’ said Lady Matilda. ‘They’re always nervous. Not like brides who are usually quite blatantly exultant.’
‘Suppose she doesn’t come?’
‘She’ll come.’
‘I feel–I feel–rather queer inside.’
‘That’s because you would have a second helping of pâté de foie gras. You’ve just got bridegroom’s nerves. Don’t fuss so much, Staffy. You’ll be all right on the night–I mean you’ll be all right when you get to the church–’
‘That reminds me–’
‘You haven’t forgotten to buy the ring?’
‘No, no, it’s just I forgot to tell you that I’ve got a present for you, Aunt Matilda.’
‘That’s very nice of you, dear boy.’
‘You said the organist had gone–’
‘Yes, thank goodness.’
‘I’ve brought you a new organist.’
‘Really, Staffy, what an extraordinary idea! Where did you get him?’
‘Bavaria–he sings like an angel–’
‘We don’t need him to sing. He’ll have to play the organ.’
‘He can do that too–he’s a very talented musician.’
‘Why does he want to leave Bavaria and come to England?’
‘His mother died.’
‘Oh dear, that’s what happened to our organist. Organists’ mothers seem to be very delicate. Will he require mothering? I’m not very good at it.’
‘I dare say some grandmothering or great-grandmothering would do.’
The door was suddenly flung open and an angelic-looking child in pink pyjamas, powdered with rosebuds, made a dramatic entrance–and said in dulcet tones as of one expecting a rapturous welcome–
‘It’s me.’
‘Sybil, why aren’t you in bed?’
‘Things aren’t very pleasant in the nursery–’
‘That means you’ve been a naughty girl, and Nannie isn’t pleased with you. What did you do?’
Sybil looked at the ceiling and began to giggle.
‘It was a caterpillar–a furry one. I put it on her and it went down here.’
Sybil’s finger indicated a spot in the middle of her chest which in dressmaking parlance is referred to as ‘the cleavage’.
‘I don’t wonder Nannie was cross–ugh,’ said Lady Matilda.
Nannie entered at this moment, said that Miss Sybil was over-excited, wouldn’t say her prayers, and wouldn’t go to bed.
Sybil crept to Lady Matilda’s side.
‘I want to say my prayers with you, Tilda–’
‘Very well–but then you go straight to bed.’
‘Oh yes, Tilda.’
Sybil dropped on her knees, clasped her hands, and uttered various peculiar noises which seemed to be a necessary preliminary to approaching the Almighty in prayer. She sighed, groaned, grunted, gave a final catarrhal snort, and launched herself:
‘Please God bless Daddy and Mummy in Singapore, and Aunt Tilda, and Uncle Staffy, and Amy and Cook and Ellen, and Thomas, and all the dogs, and my Pony Grizzle, and Margaret and Diana my best friends, and Joan, the last of my friends, and make me a good girl for Jesus’ sake, Amen. And please God make Nannie nice.’
Sybil rose to her feet, exchanged glances with Nannie with the assurance of having won a victory, said goodnight and disappeared.
‘Someone must have told her about Benvo,’ said Lady Matilda. ‘By the way, Staffy, who’s going to be your best man?’
‘Forgot all about it–Have I got to have one?’
‘It’s usual.’
Sir Stafford Nye picked up a small furry animal.
‘Panda shall be my best man–please Sybil–please Mary Ann–And why not? Panda’s been in it from the beginning–ever since Frankfurt…’
The Murder at the Vicarage
MARPLE
Agatha Christie
‘Anyone who murdered Colonel Protheroe,’ declared the parson, brandishing a carving