Sparkling Cyanide - Agatha Christie [30]
It would be splendid!
Dramatic!
A repetition of the crime.
Well, not quite a repetition…
His mind went back…
Rosemary’s birthday…
Rosemary, sprawled forward on that table—dead…
Book 2
All Souls’ Day
‘There’s Rosemary, that’s for remembrance.’
Chapter 1
Lucilla Drake was twittering. That was the term always used in the family and it was really a very apt description of the sounds that issued from Lucilla’s kindly lips.
She was concerned on this particular morning with many things—so many that she found it hard to pin her attention down to one at a time. There was the imminence of the move back to town and the household problems involved in that move. Servants, housekeeping, winter storage, a thousand minor details—all these contended with a concern over Iris’s looks.
‘Really, dear, I feel quite anxious about you—you look so white and washed out—as though you hadn’t slept—did you sleep? If not, there’s that nice sleeping preparation of Dr Wylie’s or was it Dr Gaskell’s?—which reminds me—I shall have to go and speak to the grocer myself—either the maids have been ordering things in on their own, or else it’s deliberate swindling on his part. Packets and packets of soap flakes—and I never allow more than three a week. But perhaps a tonic would be better? Eaton’s syrup, they used to give when I was a girl. And spinach, of course. I’ll tell cook to have spinach for lunch today.’
Iris was too languid and too used to Mrs Drake’s discursive style to inquire why the mention of Dr Gaskell should have reminded her aunt of the local grocer, though had she done so, she would have received the immediate response: ‘Because the grocer’s name is Cranford, my dear.’ Aunt Lucilla’s reasoning was always crystal clear to herself.
Iris merely said with what energy she could command, ‘I’m perfectly well, Aunt Lucilla.’
‘Black under the eyes,’ said Mrs Drake. ‘You’ve been doing too much.’
‘I’ve done nothing at all—for weeks.’
‘So you think, dear. But too much tennis is overtiring for young girls. And I think the air down here is inclined to be enervating. This place is in a hollow. If George had consulted me instead of that girl.’
‘Girl?’
‘That Miss Lessing he thinks so much of. All very well in the office, I daresay—but a great mistake to take her out of her place. Encourage her to think herself one of the family. Not that she needs any encouragement, I should say.’
‘Oh, well, Aunt Lucilla, Ruth is practically one of the family.’
Mrs Drake sniffed. ‘She means to be—that’s quite clear. Poor George—really an infant in arms where women are concerned. But it won’t do, Iris. George must be protected from himself and if I were you I should make it very clear that nice as Miss Lessing is, any idea of marriage is out of the question.’
Iris was startled for a moment out of her apathy.
‘I never thought of George marrying Ruth.’
‘You don’t see what goes on under your nose, child. Of course you haven’t had my experience of life.’ Iris smiled in spite of herself. Aunt Lucilla was really very funny sometimes. ‘That young woman is out for matrimony.’
‘Would it matter?’ asked Iris.
‘Matter? Of course it would matter.’
‘Wouldn’t it really be rather nice?’ Her aunt stared at her. ‘Nice for George, I mean. I think you’re right about her, you know. I think she is fond of him. And she’d be an awfully good wife to him and look after him.’
Mrs Drake snorted and an almost indignant expression appeared on her rather sheep-like amiable face.
‘George is very well looked after at present. What more can he want, I should like to know? Excellent meals and his mending seen to. Very pleasant for him to have an attractive young girl like you about the house and when you marry some day I should hope I was still capable of seeing to his comfort and looking after his health. Just as well or better than a young woman out of an office could do—what does she know about housekeeping? Figures and ledgers and shorthand and typing—what good is that in a man’s home?’
Iris smiled and shook her head, but she did not argue the