The Deeds of the Disturber - Elizabeth Peters [37]
She was a Scotswoman, ruddy of face and stout of figure, with grey-streaked brown hair and shrewd, deepset eyes. Observing her tweed bloomers and stout boots I asked, ‘Surely you didn’t bicycle the whole distance?’
‘Surely I did. It is scarcely ten miles – and,’ she added, with a laugh, ‘the good women of the village have stopped throwing stones when I pass along the High Street.’
I made Emerson’s excuses, explaining that he was hard at work on his book. In fact, he was not overly fond of Helen’s company, claiming that between the two of us he could not get a word in. Helen accepted the excuses with equanimity; she was not overly fond of Emerson’s company either.
‘All the better,’ she said. ‘We can have a woman-to-woman chat. Tell me about your latest adventures, Amelia. I read about them in the newspapers, but one cannot credit anything one learns from that source.’
‘You certainly should not believe what you read in the newspapers. It is true that we were able to assist Miss Debenham – now Mrs Fraser – in a critical situation . . .’
‘And uncover a murderer and free an innocent man from suspicion?’
‘That, yes. But anything else you may have read –’
‘Then the lurid hints of Master Criminals (excuse me, I cannot help smiling; it is such a ridiculous name, straight out of a novel), and abduction –’
‘Greatly exaggerated,’ I assured her. ‘In fact, Helen, I would prefer to say no more about it.’
I gave her a brief description of our excavations, concluding, ‘Emerson feels sure the pyramid belonged to Senefru of the Third Dynasty. We hope next season to finish the excavation of the funerary temple and perhaps begin the exploration of the interior.’
Helen had listened with a slightly glazed look. She was a classical historian and was relatively uninformed about Middle Eastern archaeology. She turned the subject, asking about Ramses.
‘He has now taken up the study of mummification,’ I said, with a grimace.
Helen laughed heartily. She found Ramses quite entertaining – no doubt because she saw very little of him. ‘He is a remarkable child, Amelia. Don’t try to make him into a little English schoolboy, the breed is detestable.’
‘There is no making Ramses into anything he doesn’t choose to be,’ I said. ‘To be honest, Helen, I am glad we have this chance to chat. I am concerned about the boy, and your expertise on the subject of children –’
‘Girls only, Amelia. However, what little knowledge I have is, as always, at your disposal.’
I told her about Ramses’ antipathy towards his cousin Percy. ‘They fight, Helen, I know they do; and it must be Ramses who starts the squabbles, for he makes no secret of disliking Percy, and Percy is pathetically anxious to be friends. I thought Ramses would profit from having other children to play with, but it seems to have made him worse.’
‘That only shows you know little about the breed,’ Helen said comfortably. ‘Ramses is an only child, reared in – what shall I say? – unusual surroundings. He is accustomed to the full attention of his parents. Of course he resents having to share them with other children.’
‘Do you really think so?’
‘I know so. I have seen the same thing with my girls. The advent of a new baby into the household frequently brings about a change in behaviour.’
‘But Percy is no baby.’
‘That makes it all the worse. All little boys fight, Amelia – yes, and some little girls as well, though they are usually slyer and more subtle in their means of getting back at those they dislike.’
She went on to tell me some stories about her charges that made me glad I had taken up another line of work.
Some of her theories sounded outlandish to me; they certainly were not in accord with the authorities I had read, but then I had no particular respect for