The Christie Caper - Carolyn Hart [41]
The unlikely couple passed within a few feet of Annie. Bledsoe was smiling down at his companion, his knowing eyes focused on her intently His manner exuded sexuality. Natalie was speaking. “You are so different from anyone I’ve ever known. You make most men seem so—so anemic, so puerile …”
Then they were past. Apparently Bledsoe was going to be safely occupied for the rest of the conference. If Annie could read the signs, and it didn’t take the expertise of a sex therapist to figure this one out, Bledsoe had poor Natalie’s number. Annie wished he had picked on someone sawier. But it was none of her business.
Augustus Markham, president of Chastain College, greeted her. “Wonderful occasion, my dear. A pleasure to be here.” Heads turned to listen. Augustus would be as difficult to ignore as an organ crescendo. “No one will ever equal Christie as a mystery writer. She was a great lady, too, an inspiration to the rest of us. She always did her best. She knew what it was to live.”
As his rich voice rolled through the auditorium, conversations fell away.
Annie smiled her thanks and knew it was time. Lady Gwendolyn was already seated on the platform, those inquiring eyes surveying the audience. Annie ran lightly up the steps. At the lectern, she looked out at the sea of smiling faces and couldn’t keep from grinning. “You wonderful people, welcome. Welcome to a celebration of a remarkable life. Do you love Agatha Christie?”
“Yes!” the audience thundered, loving it.
“Who wrote the best mysteries ever?”
The shout reverberated like crashing surf, “CHRIS—TIEEEEE.”
Annie blinked back a tear. This was no time to get emotional—but what a response! “We are enormously fortunate today to have with us as our principal speaker a woman who is not only an authority on the life and times of Agatha Christie, but a woman who is also one of the premier mystery writers in the world today. It is my pleasure and my honor to present to you—Lady Gwendolyn Tompkins!”
Lady Gwendolyn smiled graciously at the welcoming cheers. She ignored the lectern. Her high, clear voice, without need of a microphone, rolled across the auditorium. “It is indeed a great honor and a great pleasure to speak to you about Agatha Christie. She was a grand woman, and she had a grand life. Christie was brave, gallant, enduring, determined. She knew how to love, how to laugh, in sum, how to live. In admiring her, perhaps we can gain the vision in our own lives to live with the same quiet, unsung courage, no matter what vicissitudes we face.
“… the most British of authors, yet her books are beloved around the world … born September 15, 1890, in the seaside resort of Torquay … fair-haired … the last and late-in-life child of a most genial man and a delightful woman. Her father, an American, enjoyed each and every day on its own terms … a quintessential club man, he loved to offer hospitality, and he loved good food … Agatha’s mother was a quicksilver spirit with an unusual and lively mind. Agatha enjoyed the happiest of childhoods at Ashfield in Barton Road. The beloved baby of the family … a big sister, Madge, and big brother, Monty. The early loss of her father … imaginary playmates in the garden … Devonshire cream … dancing school … picnics, rollerskating … a coming-out season in Egypt …
“Archie Christie arrived in her life like a whirlwind, winning her heart … fair and blue-eyed, brave and exciting, Archie was handsome, determined, and impetuous. Agatha once described their mutual attraction, because they were so different, as ‘the excitement of the stranger’ … the advent of World War I, the end of an era … Archie a flying ace … Agatha a VAD in Torquay … marriage on Christmas Eve 1914 … Agatha in the dispensary, learning about poisons … a pharmacist with a fondness for a lump of curare … Agatha starting a detective story in response to a dare from Madge, writing The Mysterious Affair at Styles, patterning her detective after the Belgian refugees …”
Oh, it was an old, familiar, endearing