Postern of Fate (Tommy and Tuppence Series) - Agatha Christie [76]
‘I should put it on if I was you, ma’am, it’s going to rain presently.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Tuppence. ‘Rain, rain. Always rain.’
She went out and came fairly quickly to what seemed to be a considerable deputation waiting for her. There were, she thought, about ten or twelve of assorted ages, mainly boys flanked by two long-haired girls, all looking rather excited. One of them said in a shrill voice as Tuppence approached:
‘Here she comes! Here she is. Now then, who’s going to speak? Go on, George, you’d better talk. You’re the one as always talks.’
‘Well, you’re not going to now. I’m going to talk,’ said Clarence.
‘You shut up, Clarrie. You know your voice is weak. It makes you cough if you talk.’
‘Now look here, this is my show. I–’
‘Good morning, all,’ said Tuppence, breaking in. ‘You’ve come to see me about something, have you? What is it?’
‘Got something for you, we have,’ said Clarence. ‘Information. That’s what you’re after, isn’t it?’
‘It depends,’ said Tuppence. ‘What kind of information?’
‘Oh, not information about nowadays. All long ago.’
‘Historical information,’ said one of the girls, who appeared to be the intellectual chief of the group. ‘Most interesting if you’re doing research into the past.’
‘I see,’ said Tuppence, concealing the fact that she did not see. ‘What’s this place here?’
‘It’s a gold-mine.’
‘Oh,’ said Tuppence. ‘Any gold in it?’
She looked about her.
‘Well, really, it’s a goldfish pool,’ explained one of the boys. ‘Used to be goldfish in it once, you know. Special ones with lots of tails, from Japan or somewhere. Oh, wonderful it used to be. That was in old Mrs Forrester’s time. That’s–oh, that’s ten years ago.’
‘Twenty-four years ago,’ said one of the girls.
‘Sixty years ago,’ said a very small voice, ‘every bit of sixty years ago. Lots of goldfish there were. Ever so many. Said to be valuable, they was. They used to die sometimes. Sometimes they ate each other, sometimes they were just lying on top, floating about, you know.’
‘Well,’ said Tuppence, ‘what do you want to tell me about them? There are no goldfish to see here now.’
‘No. It’s information,’ said the intellectual girl.
A large outbreak of voices occurred. Tuppence waved her hand.
‘Not all at once,’ she said. ‘One or two speak at a time. What’s all this about?’
‘Something perhaps you ought to know about where things was hidden once. Hidden once and said to be very important.’
‘And how do you know about them?’ said Tuppence.
This provoked a chorus of replies. It was not very easy to hear everyone at once.
‘It was Janie.’
‘It was Janie’s Uncle Ben,’ said one voice.
‘No, it wasn’t. It was Harry, it was…Yes, it was Harry. Harry’s cousin Tom…Much younger than that. It was his grandmother told him and his grandmother had been told by Josh. Yes. I don’t know who Josh was. I think Josh was her husband…No, he wasn’t her husband, he was her uncle.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Tuppence.
She looked over the gesticulating crowd and picked out a choice.
‘Clarence,’ she said. ‘You’re Clarence, aren’t you? Your friend told me about you. You, well what do you know and what’s it all about?’
‘Well, if you want to find out you’ve got to go to the PPC.’
‘Go to the what?’ said Tuppence.
‘The PPC.’
‘What’s the PPC?’
‘Don’t you know? Hasn’t anyone told you? PPC is the Pensioners’ Palace Club.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Tuppence, ‘that sounds very grand.’
‘It isn’t grand at all,’ said one boy of about nine. ‘It isn’t grand a bit. It’s only old age pensioners saying things and getting together. Pack of lies, some people say they tell about things they knew. You know, knew in the last war and knew after it. Oh, all sorts of things they say.’
‘Where is this PPC?’ asked Tuppence.
‘Oh, it’s along at the end of the village. Half-way to Morton Cross, it is. If you’re a pensioner you get a ticket for it