The Hollow - Agatha Christie [46]
Edward at Ainswick. Midge half-closed her eyes, picturing it. He would sit, she thought, in the library, on the west side of the house. There was a magnolia that almost covered one window and which filled the room with a golden green light in the afternoons. Through the other window you looked out on the lawn and a tall Wellingtonia stood up like a sentinel. And to the right was the big copper beech.
Oh, Ainswick–Ainswick.
She could smell the soft air that drifted in from the magnolia which would still, in September, have some great white sweet-smelling waxy flowers on it. And the pine-cones on the fire. And a faintly musty smell from the kind of book that Edward was sure to be reading. He would be sitting in the saddle-back chair, and occasionally, perhaps, his eyes would go from the book to the fire, and he would think, just for a minute, of Henrietta.
Midge stirred and asked:
‘Where is Henrietta?’
‘She went to the swimming pool.’
Midge stared. ‘Why?’
Her voice, abrupt and deep, roused Edward a little.
‘My dear Midge, surely you knew–oh, well–guessed. She knew Christow pretty well.’
‘Oh, of course one knew that. But I don’t see why she should go mooning off to where he was shot. That’s not at all like Henrietta. She’s never melodramatic.’
‘Do any of us know what anyone else is like? Henrietta, for instance.’
Midge frowned. She said:
‘After all, Edward, you and I have known Henrietta all our lives.’
‘She has changed.’
‘Not really. I don’t think one changes.’
‘Henrietta has changed.’
Midge looked at him curiously.
‘More than we have, you and I?’
‘Oh, I have stood still, I know that well enough. And you–’
His eyes, suddenly focusing, looked at her where she knelt by the fender. It was as though he was looking at her from a long way away, taking in the square chin, the dark eyes, the resolute mouth. He said:
‘I wish I saw you more often, Midge, my dear.’
She smiled up at him. She said:
‘I know. It isn’t easy, these days, to keep in touch.’
There was a sound outside and Edward got up.
‘Lucy was right,’ he said. ‘It has been a tiring day–one’s first introduction to murder. I shall go to bed. Goodnight.’
He had left the room when Henrietta came through the window.
Midge turned on her.
‘What have you done to Edward?’
‘Edward?’ Henrietta was vague. Her forehead was puckered. She seemed to be thinking of something a long way away.
‘Yes, Edward. He came in looking dreadful–so cold and grey.’
‘If you care about Edward so much, Midge, why don’t you do something about him?’
‘Do something? What do you mean?’
‘I don’t know. Stand on a chair and shout! Draw attention to yourself. Don’t you know that’s the only hope with a man like Edward?’
‘Edward will never care about anyone but you, Henrietta. He never has.’
‘Then it’s very unintelligent of him.’ She threw a quick glance at Midge’s white face. ‘I’ve hurt you. I’m sorry. But I hate Edward tonight.’
‘Hate Edward? You can’t.’
‘Oh, yes, I can! You don’t know–’
‘What?’
Henrietta said slowly:
‘He reminds me of such a lot of things I would like to forget.’
‘What things?’
‘Well, Ainswick, for instance.’
‘Ainswick? You want to forget Ainswick?’
Midge’s tone was incredulous.
‘Yes, yes, yes! I was happy there. I can’t stand, just now, being reminded of happiness. Don’t you understand? A time when one didn’t know what was coming. When one said confidently, everything is going to be lovely! Some people are wise–they never expect to be happy. I did.’
She said abruptly:
‘I shall never go back to Ainswick.’
Midge said slowly:
‘I wonder.’
Chapter 14
Midge woke up abruptly on Monday morning.
For a moment she lay there bemused, her eyes going confusedly towards the door, for she half-expected Lady Angkatell to appear. What was it Lucy had said when she came drifting in that first morning?
A difficult weekend? She had been worried–had thought that something unpleasant might happen.
Yes, and something unpleasant had happened–something that was lying now upon Midge’s heart and spirits like a thick