Towards Zero - Agatha Christie [35]
“How near it looks,” said Audrey at last, breaking the silence.
Thomas looked across at Gull’s Point.
“Yes, we could swim home.”
“Not at this tide. There was a housemaid Camilla had once. She was an enthusiastic bather, used to swim across and back whenever the tide was right. It has to be low or high—but when it’s running out it sweeps you right down to the mouth of the river. It did that to her one day—only luckily she kept her head and came ashore all right on Easter Point—only very exhausted.”
“It doesn’t say anything about its being dangerous here.”
“It isn’t this side. The current is the other side. It’s deep there under the cliffs. There was a would-be suicide last year—threw himself off Stark Head—but he was caught by a tree halfway down the cliff and the coastguards got to him all right.”
“Poor devil,” said Thomas. “I bet he didn’t thank them. Must be sickening to have made up your mind to get out of it all and then be saved. Makes a fellow feel a fool.”
“Perhaps he’s glad now,” suggested Audrey dreamily.
She wondered vaguely where the man was now and what he was doing.
Thomas puffed away at his pipe. By turning his head very slightly he could look at Audrey. He noted her grave absorbed face as she stared across the water. The long brown lashes that rested on the pure line of the cheek, the small shell-like ear.
That reminded him of something.
“Oh by the way, I’ve got your earring—the one you lost last night.”
His fingers delved into his pocket. Audrey stretched out a hand.
“Oh good, where did you find it? On the terrace?”
“No. It was near the stairs. You must have lost it as you came down to dinner. I noticed you hadn’t got it at dinner.”
“I’m glad to have it back.”
She took it. Thomas reflected that it was rather a large barbaric earring for so small an ear. The ones she had on today were large, too.
He remarked:
“You wear your earrings even when you bathe. Aren’t you afraid of losing them?”
“Oh, these are very cheap things. I hate being without earrings because of this.”
She touched her left ear. Thomas remembered.
“Oh yes, that time old Bouncer bit you.”
Audrey nodded.
They were silent, reliving a childish memory. Audrey Standish (as she then was), a long spindle-legged child, putting her face down on old Bouncer who had had a sore paw. A nasty bite, he had given her. She had had to have a stitch put in it. Not that there was much to show now—just the tiniest little scar.
“My dear girl,” he said, “you can hardly see the mark. Why do you mind?”
Audrey paused before answering with evident sincerity:
“It’s because—because I just can’t bear a blemish.”
Thomas nodded. It fitted in with his knowledge of Audrey—of her instinct for perfection. She was in herself so perfectly finished an article.
He said suddenly:
“You’re far more beautiful than Kay.”
She turned quickly.
“Oh no, Thomas. Kay—Kay is really lovely.”
“On the outside. Not underneath.”
“Are you referring,” said Audrey with faint amusement, “to my beautiful soul?”
Thomas knocked out the ashes of his pipe.
“No,” he said. “I think I mean your bones.”
Audrey laughed.
Thomas packed a new pipeful of tobacco. They were silent for quite five minutes, but Thomas glanced at Audrey more than once though he did it so unobtrusively that she was unaware of it.
He said at last quietly:
“What’s wrong, Audrey?”
“Wrong? What do you mean by wrong?”
“Wrong with you. There’s something.”
“No, there’s nothing. Nothing at all.”
“But there is.”
She shook her head.
“Won’t you tell me?”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“I suppose I’m being a chump—but I’ve got to say it—” He paused. “Audrey—can’t you forget about it? Can’t you let it all go?”
She dug her small hands convulsively into the rock.
“You don’t understand—you can’t begin to understand.”
“But Audrey, my dear, I do. That’s just it. I know.”
She turned a small doubtful face to him.
“I know exactly what you’ve been through. And—and what it must have meant to you.”
She was very