Problem at Pollensa Bay - Agatha Christie [28]
‘I have just told you that time really means nothing. It is clear in my mind and I think it is clear in yours the occasion when we last met.’
‘A very tragic occasion,’ said Mr Satterthwaite. ‘I do not really like to think of it.’
‘Because of death? But death is not always a tragedy. I have told you that before.’
‘No,’ said Mr Satterthwaite, ‘perhaps that death–the one we are both thinking of–was not a tragedy. But all the same…’
‘But all the same it is life that really matters. You are quite right, of course,’ said Mr Quin. ‘Quite right. It is life that matters. We do not want someone young, someone who is happy, or could be happy, to die. Neither of us want that, do we. That is the reason why we must always save a life when the command comes.’
‘Have you got a command for me?’
‘Me–command for you?’ Harley Quin’s long, sad face brightened into its peculiarly charming smile. ‘I have no commands for you, Mr Satterthwaite. I have never had commands. You yourself know things, see things, know what to do, do them. It has nothing to do with me.’
‘Oh yes, it has,’ said Mr Satterthwaite. ‘You’re not going to change my mind on that point. But tell me. Where have you been during what it is too short to call time?’
‘Well, I have been here and there. In different countries, different climates, different adventures. But mostly, as usual, just passing by. I think it is more for you to tell me not only what you have been doing but what you are going to do now. More about where you are going. Who you are going to meet. Your friends, what they are like.’
‘Of course I will tell you. I should enjoy telling you because I have been wondering, thinking you know about these friends I am going to. When you have not seen a family for a long time, when you have not been closely connected with them for many years, it is always a nervous moment when you are going to resume old friendships and old ties.’
‘You are so right,’ said Mr Quin.
The Turkish coffee was brought in little cups of oriental pattern. Ali placed them with a smile and departed. Mr Satterthwaite sipped approvingly.
‘As sweet as love, as black as night and as hot as hell. That is the old Arab phrase, isn’t it?’
Harley smiled over his shoulder and nodded.
‘Yes,’ said Mr Satterthwaite, ‘I must tell you where I am going though what I am doing hardly matters. I am going to renew old friendships, to make acquaintance with the younger generation. Tom Addison, as I have said, is a very old friend of mine. We did many things together in our young days. Then, as often happens, life parted us. He was in the Diplomatic Service, went abroad for several foreign posts in turn. Sometimes I went and stayed with him, sometimes I saw him when he was home in England. One of his early posts was in Spain. He married a Spanish girl, a very beautiful, dark girl called Pilar. He loved her very much.’
‘They had children?’
‘Two daughters. A fair-haired baby like her father, called Lily, and a second daughter, Maria, who took after her Spanish mother. I was Lily’s godfather. Naturally, I did not see either of the children very often. Two or three times a year either I gave a party for Lily or went to see her at her school. She was a sweet and lovely person. Very devoted to her father and he was very devoted to her. But in between these meetings, these revivals of friendship, we went through some difficult times. You will know about it as well as I do. I and my contemporaries had difficulties in meeting through the war years. Lily married a pilot in the Air Force. A fighter pilot. Until the other day I had even forgotten his name. Simon Gilliatt. Squadron Leader Gilliatt.’
‘He was killed in the war?’
‘No, no. No. He came through safely. After the war he resigned from the Air Force and he and Lily went out to Kenya as so many did. They settled there and they lived very happily. They had a son, a little boy called Roland. Later when he was at school in England I saw him once or twice. The last time,