Problem at Pollensa Bay - Agatha Christie [55]
Joyce stopped herself from saying, ‘It wouldn’t do me any harm now.’ If only Aunt Mary would stop talking about food. To raise your hopes by asking you to meet her at half past one and then to talk of curried eggs and slices of roast meat–oh! cruel–cruel.
‘Well, my dear,’ said Aunt Mary. ‘I got your letter–and it was very nice of you to take me at my word. I said I’d be pleased to see you anytime and so I should have been–but as it happens, I’ve just had an extremely good offer to let the house. Quite too good to be missed, and bringing their own plate and linen. Five months. They come in on Thursday and I go to Harrogate. My rheumatism’s been troubling me lately.’
‘I see,’ said Joyce. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘So it’ll have to be for another time. Always pleased to see you, my dear.’
‘Thank you, Aunt Mary.’
‘You know, you do look peaky,’ said Aunt Mary, considering her attentively. ‘You’re thin, too; no flesh on your bones, and what’s happened to your pretty colour? You always had a nice healthy colour. Mind you take plenty of exercise.’
‘I’m taking plenty of exercise today,’ said Joyce grimly. She rose. ‘Well Aunt Mary, I must be getting along.’
Back again–through St James’s Park this time, and so on through Berkeley Square and across Oxford Street and up Edgware Road, past Praed Street to the point where the Edgware Road begins to think of becoming something else. Then aside, through a series of dirty little streets till one particular dingy house was reached.
Joyce inserted her latchkey and entered a small frowsy hall. She ran up the stairs till she reached the top landing. A door faced her and from the bottom of this door a snuffling noise proceeded succeeded in a second by a series of joyful whines and yelps.
‘Yes, Terry darling–it’s Missus come home.’
As the door opened, a white body precipitated itself upon the girl–an aged wire-haired terrier very shaggy as to coat and suspiciously bleary as to eyes. Joyce gathered him up in her arms and sat down on the floor.
‘Terry darling! Darling, darling Terry. Love your Missus, Terry; love your Missus a lot!’
And Terry obeyed, his eager tongue worked busily, he licked her face, her ears, her neck and all the time his stump of a tail wagged furiously.
‘Terry darling, what are we going to do? What’s going to become of us? Oh! Terry darling, I’m so tired.’
‘Now then, miss,’ said a tart voice behind her. ‘If you’ll give over hugging and kissing that dog, here’s a cup of nice hot tea for you.’
‘Oh! Mrs Barnes, how good of you.’
Joyce scrambled to her feet. Mrs Barnes was a big, formidable-looking woman. Beneath the exterior of a dragon she concealed an unexpectedly warm heart.
‘A cup of hot tea never did anyone any harm,’ enunciated Mrs Barnes, voicing the universal sentiment of her class.
Joyce sipped gratefully. Her landlady eyed her covertly.
‘Any luck, miss–ma’am, I should say?’
Joyce shook her head, her face clouded over.
‘Ah!’ said Mrs Barnes with a sigh. ‘Well, it doesn’t seem to be what you might call a lucky day.’
Joyce looked up sharply.
‘Oh, Mrs Barnes–you don’t mean–’
Mrs Barnes was nodding gloomily.
‘Yes–it’s Barnes. Out of work again. What we’re going to do, I’m sure I don’t know.’
‘Oh, Mrs Barnes–I must–I mean you’ll want–’
‘Now don’t you fret, my dear. I’m not denying but that I’d be glad if you’d found something–but if you haven’t–you haven’t. Have you finished that tea? I’ll take the cup.’
‘Not quite.’
‘Ah!’ said Mrs Barnes accusingly. ‘You’re going to give what’s left to that dratted dog–I know you.’
‘Oh, please, Mrs Barnes. Just a little drop. You don’t mind really, do you?’
‘It wouldn’t be any use if I did. You’re crazy about that cantankerous brute. Yes, that’s what I say–and that’s what he is. As near as nothing bit me this morning, he did.’
‘Oh, no, Mrs Barnes! Terry wouldn’t do such a thing.’
‘Growled at me–showed his teeth. I was just trying to see if there was anything could be done to those shoes of yours.’
‘He doesn’t like anyone touching my things. He thinks