Third girl - Agatha Christie [41]
‘All right?’ said Dr Stillingfleet. ‘Satisfied you there’s nothing up my sleeve? All clear and above board.’
The girl nodded.
‘Right. Sit down there. Make yourself comfortable. Do you smoke?’
‘Well, I —’
‘Only reefers — something of that kind? Never mind, you needn’t tell me.’
‘Of course I don’t take anything of that kind.’
‘I shouldn’t have said there was any “of course” about it, but one must believe what the patient tells one. All right. Now tell me about yourself.’
‘I — I don’t know. There’s nothing to tell really. Don’t you want me to lie down on a couch?’
‘Oh, you mean your memory of dreams and all that stuff? No, not particularly. I just like to get a background. You know. You were born, you lived in the country or the town, you have brothers and sisters or you’re an only child and so on. When your own mother died, were you very upset by her death?’
‘Of course I was.’ Norma sounded indignant.
‘You’re much too fond of saying of course, Miss West. By the way, West isn’t really your name, is it? Oh, never mind, I don’t want to know any other one. Call yourself West or East or North or anything you like. Anyway, what went on after your mother died?’
‘She was an invalid for a long time before she died. In nursing homes a good deal. I stayed with an aunt, rather an old aunt, down in Devonshire. She wasn’t really an aunt, she was Mother’s first cousin. And then my father came home just about six months ago. It — it was wonderful.’ Her face lighted up suddenly. She was unaware of the quick, shrewd glance the apparently casual young man shot at her. ‘I could hardly remember him, you know. He must have gone away when I was about five. I didn’t really think I’d ever see him again. Mother didn’t very often talk about him. I think at first she hoped that he’d give up this other woman and come back.’
‘Other woman?’
‘Yes. He went away with someone. She was a very bad woman, Mother said. Mother talked about her very bitterly and very bitterly about Father too, but I used to think that perhaps — perhaps Father wasn’t as bad as she thought, that it was all this woman’s fault.’
‘Did they marry?’
‘No. Mother said she would never divorce Father. She was a — is it an Anglican? — very High Church, you know. Rather like a Roman Catholic. She didn’t believe in divorce.’
‘Did they go on living together? What was the woman’s name or is that a secret too?’
‘I don’t remember her last name.’ Norma shook her head. ‘No, I don’t think they lived together long, but I don’t know much about it all, you see. They went to South Africa but I think they quarrelled and parted quite soon because that’s when Mother said she hoped Father might come back again. But he didn’t. He didn’t write even. Not even to me. But he sent me things at Christmas. Presents always.’
‘He was fond of you?’
‘I don’t know. How could I tell? Nobody ever spoke about him. Only Uncle Simon — his brother, you know. He was in business in the City and he was very angry that Father had chucked up everything. He said he had always been the same, could never settle to anything, but he said he wasn’t a bad chap really. He said he was just weak. I didn’t often see Uncle Simon. It was always Mother’s friends. Most of them were dreadfully dull. My whole life has been very dull…
‘Oh, it seemed so wonderful that Father was really coming home. I tried to remember him better. You know, things he had said, games he had played with me. He used to make me laugh a lot. I tried to see if I couldn’t find some old snapshots or photographs of him. They seem all to have been thrown away. I think Mother must have torn them all up.’
‘She had remained vindictive then.’
‘I think it was really Louise she was vindictive against.’
‘Louise?’
He saw a