The Hollow - Agatha Christie [80]
‘Midge, dear little Midge, you can’t put up with all this!’
Midge laughed a little shakily.
‘Don’t be upset, Edward. Why on earth did you have to come here? Why not ring up?’
‘I wanted to see for myself. I’ve been worried.’ He paused and then broke out, ‘Why, Lucy wouldn’t talk to a scullery maid the way that woman talked to you. It’s all wrong that you should have to put up with insolence and rudeness. Good God, Midge, I’d like to take you right out of it all down to Ainswick. I’d like to hail a taxi, bundle you into it, and take you down to Ainswick now by the 2.15.’
Midge stopped. Her assumed nonchalance fell from her. She had had a long tiring morning with trying customers, and Madame at her most bullying. She turned on Edward with a sudden flare of resentment.
‘Well, then, why don’t you? There are plenty of taxis!’
He stared at her, taken aback by her sudden fury. She went on, her anger flaming up:
‘Why do you have to come along and say these things? You don’t mean them. Do you think it makes it any easier after I’ve had the hell of a morning to be reminded that there are places like Ainswick? Do you think I’m grateful to you for standing there and babbling about how much you’d like to take me out of it all? All very sweet and insincere. You don’t really mean a word of it. Don’t you know that I’d sell my soul to catch the 2.15 to Ainswick and get away from everything? I can’t bear even to think of Ainswick, do you understand? You mean well, Edward, but you’re cruel! Saying things–just saying things…’
They faced each other, seriously incommoding the lunchtime crowd in Shaftesbury Avenue. Yet they were conscious of nothing but each other. Edward was staring at her like a man suddenly aroused from sleep.
He said: ‘All right then, damn it. You’re coming to Ainswick by the 2.15!’
He raised his stick and hailed a passing taxi. It drew into the kerb. Edward opened the door, and Midge, slightly dazed, got in. Edward said: ‘Paddington Station’ to the driver and followed her in.
They sat in silence. Midge’s lips were set together. Her eyes were defiant and mutinous. Edward stared straight ahead of him.
As they waited for the traffic lights in Oxford Street, Midge said disagreeably:
‘I seem to have called your bluff.’
Edward said shortly:
‘It wasn’t bluff.’
The taxi started forward again with a jerk.
It was not until the taxi turned left in Edgware Road into Cambridge Terrace that Edward suddenly regained his normal attitude to life.
He said: ‘We can’t catch the 2.15,’ and tapping on the glass he said to the driver: ‘Go to the Berkeley.’
Midge said coldly: ‘Why can’t we catch the 2.15? It’s only twenty-five past one now.’
Edward smiled at her.
‘You haven’t got any luggage, little Midge. No nightgowns or toothbrushes or country shoes. There’s a4.15, you know. We’ll have some lunch now and talk things over.’
Midge sighed.
‘That’s so like you, Edward. To remember the practical side. Impulse doesn’t carry you very far, does it? Oh, well, it was a nice dream while it lasted.’
She slipped her hand into his and gave him her old smile.
‘I’m sorry I stood on the pavement and abused you like a fishwife,’ she said. ‘But you know, Edward, you were irritating.’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I must have been.’
They went into the Berkeley happily side by side. They got a table by the window and Edward ordered an excellent lunch.
As they finished their chicken, Midge sighed and said: ‘I ought to hurry back to the shop. My time’s up.’
‘You’re going to take decent time over your lunch today, even if I have to go back and buy half the clothes in the shop!’
‘Dear Edward, you are really rather sweet.’
They ate Crêpes Suzette, and then the waiter brought them coffee. Edward stirred his sugar in with his spoon.
He said gently:
‘You really do love Ainswick, don’t you?’
‘Must we talk about Ainswick? I’ve survived not