The Hollow - Agatha Christie [82]
‘That seems to be one point in my favour,’ said Edward, smiling.
‘But children are really the worst at weddings,’ went on Lady Angkatell, happily pursuing her own train of thought. ‘Everyone says: “How sweet!” but, my dear, the anxiety! They step on the train, or else they howl for Nannie, and quite often they’re sick. I always wonder how a girl can go up the aisle in a proper frame of mind, while she’s so uncertain about what is happening behind her.’
‘There needn’t be anything behind me,’ said Midge cheerfully. ‘Not even a train. I can be married in a coat and skirt.’
‘Oh, no, Midge, that’s so like a widow. No, off-white satin and not from Madame Alfrege’s.’
‘Certainly not from Madame Alfrege’s,’ said Edward.
‘I shall take you to Mireille,’ said Lady Angkatell.
‘My dear Lucy, I can’t possibly afford Mireille.’
‘Nonsense, Midge. Henry and I are going to give you your trousseau. And Henry, of course, will give you away. I do hope the band of his trousers won’t be too tight. It’s nearly two years since he last went to a wedding. And I shall wear–’
Lady Angkatell paused and closed her eyes.
‘Yes, Lucy?’
‘Hydrangea blue,’ announced Lady Angkatell in a rapt voice. ‘I suppose, Edward, you will have one of your own friends for best man, otherwise, of course, there is David. I cannot help feeling it would be frightfully good for David. It would give him poise, you know, and he would feel we all liked him. That, I am sure, is very important with David. It must be disheartening, you know, to feel you are clever and intellectual and yet nobody likes you any the better for it! But of course it would be rather a risk. He would probably lose the ring, or drop it at the last minute. I expect it would worry Edward too much. But it would be nice in a way to keep it to the same people we’ve had here for the murder.’
Lady Angkatell uttered the last few words in the most conversational of tones.
‘Lady Angkatell has been entertaining a few friends for a murder this autumn,’ Midge could not help saying.
‘Yes,’ said Lucy meditatively. ‘I suppose it did sound like that. A party for the shooting. You know, when you come to think of it, that’s just what it has been!’
Midge gave a faint shiver and said:
‘Well, at any rate, it’s over now.’
‘It’s not exactly over–the inquest was only adjourned. And that nice Inspector Grange has got men all over the place simply crashing through the chestnut woods and startling all the pheasants, and springing up like jacks in the box in the most unlikely places.’
‘What are they looking for?’ asked Edward. ‘The revolver that Christow was shot with?’
‘I imagine that must be it. They even came to the house with a search warrant. The inspector was most apologetic about it, quite shy, but of course I told him we should be delighted. It was really most interesting. They looked absolutely everywhere. I followed them round, you know, and I suggested one or two places which even they hadn’t thought of. But they didn’t find anything. It was most disappointing. Poor Inspector Grange, he is growing quite thin and he pulls and pulls at that moustache of his. His wife ought to give him specially nourishing meals with all this worry he is having–but I have a vague idea that she must be one of those women who care more about having the linoleum really well polished than in cooking a tasty little meal. Which reminds me, I must go and see Mrs Medway. Funny how servants cannot bear the police. Her cheese soufflé last night was quite uneatable. Soufflés and pastry always show if one is off balance. If it weren’t for Gudgeon keeping them all together I really believe half the