Problem at Pollensa Bay - Agatha Christie [59]
‘I know, darling; I know. You didn’t mean to hurt me. It’s all right. It’s all right, Terry.’
She stroked his head. The man opposite watched her but said nothing.
They arrived at the vet’s fairly quickly and found him in. He was a red-faced man with an unsympathetic manner.
He handled Terry none too gently while Joyce stood by, agonized. The tears were running down her face. She kept on talking in a low, reassuring voice.
‘It’s all right, darling. It’s all right…’
The vet straightened himself.
‘Impossible to say exactly. I must make a proper examination. You must leave him here.’
‘Oh! I can’t.’
‘I’m afraid you must. I must take him below. I’ll telephone you in–say–half an hour.’
Sick at heart, Joyce gave in. She kissed Terry on his nose. Blind with tears, she stumbled down the steps. The man who had helped her was still there. She had forgotten him.
‘The taxi’s still here. I’ll take you back.’ She shook her head.
‘I’d rather walk.’
‘I’ll walk with you.’
He paid off the taxi. She was hardly conscious of him as he walked quietly by her side without speaking. When they arrived at Mrs Barnes’, he spoke.
‘Your wrist. You must see to it.’
She looked down at it.
‘Oh! That’s all right.’
‘It wants properly washing and tying up. I’ll come in with you.’
He went with her up the stairs. She let him wash the place and bind it up with a clean handkerchief. She only said one thing.
‘Terry didn’t mean to do it. He would never, never mean to do it. He just didn’t realize it was me. He must have been in dreadful pain.’
‘I’m afraid so, yes.’
‘And perhaps they’re hurting him dreadfully now?’
‘I’m sure that everything that can be done for him is being done. When the vet rings up, you can go and get him and nurse him here.’
‘Yes, of course.’
The man paused, then moved towards the door.
‘I hope it will be all right,’ he said awkwardly. ‘Goodbye.’
‘Goodbye.’
Two or three minutes later it occurred to her that he had been kind and that she had never thanked him.
Mrs Barnes appeared, cup in hand.
‘Now, my poor lamb, a cup of hot tea. You’re all to pieces, I can see that.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Barnes, but I don’t want any tea.’
‘It would do you good, dearie. Don’t take on so now. The doggie will be all right and even if he isn’t that gentleman of yours will give you a pretty new dog–’
‘Don’t, Mrs Barnes. Don’t. Please, if you don’t mind, I’d rather be left alone.’
‘Well, I never–there’s the telephone.’
Joyce sped down to it like an arrow. She lifted the receiver. Mrs Barnes panted down after her. She heard Joyce say, ‘Yes–speaking. What? Oh! Oh! Yes. Yes, thank you.’
She put back the receiver. The face she turned to Mrs Barnes startled that good woman. It seemed devoid of any life or expression.
‘Terry’s dead, Mrs Barnes,’ she said. ‘He died alone there without me.’
She went upstairs and, going into her room, shut the door very decisively.
‘Well, I never,’ said Mrs Barnes to the hall wallpaper.
Five minutes later she poked her head into the room. Joyce was sitting bolt upright in a chair. She was not crying.
‘It’s your gentleman, miss. Shall I send him up?’
A sudden light came into Joyce’s eyes.
‘Yes, please. I’d like to see him.’
Halliday came in boisterously.
‘Well, here we are. I haven’t lost much time, have I? I’m prepared to carry you off from this dreadful place here and now. You can’t stay here. Come on, get your things on.’
‘There’s no need, Arthur.’
‘No need? What do you mean?’
‘Terry’s dead. I don’t need to marry you now.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘My dog–Terry. He’s dead. I was only marrying you so that we could be together.’
Halliday stared at her, his face growing redder and redder. ‘You’re mad.’
‘I dare say. People who love dogs are.’
‘You seriously tell me that you were only marrying me because–Oh, it’s absurd!’
‘Why did you think I was marrying you? You knew I hated you.’
‘You were marrying me because I could give you a jolly good time–and so I can.’
‘To my mind,’ said Joyce, ‘that is a much more revolting motive than mine. Anyway, it’s