By the Pricking of My Thumbs. Агата Кристи

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СКАЧАТЬ that at that moment the door opened and Tommy came in. Tuppence rose to her feet.

      ‘Here I am. I’m ready.’ She went towards the door turning her head to say, ‘Goodbye, Mrs Lancaster.’

      ‘How did you get on?’ she asked Tommy, as they emerged into the hall.

      ‘After you left,’ said Tommy, ‘like a house on fire.’

      ‘I seem to have had a bad effect on her, don’t I?’ said Tuppence. ‘Rather cheering, in a way.’

      ‘Why cheering?’

      ‘Well, at my age,’ said Tuppence, ‘and what with my neat and respectable and slightly boring appearance, it’s nice to think that you might be taken for a depraved woman of fatal sexual charm.’

      ‘Idiot,’ said Tommy, pinching her arm affectionately. ‘Who were you hobnobbing with? She looked a very nice fluffy old lady.’

      ‘She was very nice,’ said Tuppence. ‘A dear old thing, I think. But unfortunately bats.’

      ‘Bats?’

      ‘Yes. Seemed to think there was a dead child behind the fireplace or something of the kind. She asked me if it was my poor child.’

      ‘Rather unnerving,’ said Tommy. ‘I suppose there must be some people who are slightly batty here, as well as normal elderly relatives with nothing but age to trouble them. Still, she looked nice.’

      ‘Oh, she was nice,’ said Tuppence. ‘Nice and very sweet, I think. I wonder what exactly her fancies are and why.’

      Miss Packard appeared again suddenly.

      ‘Goodbye, Mrs Beresford. I hope they brought you some coffee?’

      ‘Oh yes, they did, thank you.’

      ‘Well, it’s been very kind of you to come, I’m sure,’ said Miss Packard. Turning to Tommy, she said, ‘And I know Miss Fanshawe has enjoyed your visit very much. I’m sorry she was rude to your wife.’

      ‘I think that gave her a lot of pleasure too,’ said Tuppence.

      ‘Yes, you’re quite right. She does like being rude to people. She’s unfortunately rather good at it.’

      ‘And so she practises the art as often as she can,’ said Tommy.

      ‘You’re very understanding, both of you,’ said Miss Packard.

      ‘The old lady I was talking to,’ said Tuppence. ‘Mrs Lancaster, I think she said her name was?’

      ‘Oh yes, Mrs Lancaster. We’re all very fond of her.’

      ‘She’s—is she a little peculiar?’

      ‘Well, she has fancies,’ said Miss Packard indulgently. ‘We have several people here who have fancies. Quite harmless ones. But—well, there they are. Things that they believe have happened to them. Or to other people. We try not to take any notice, not to encourage them. Just play it down. I think really it’s just an exercise in imagination, a sort of phantasy they like to live in. Something exciting or something sad and tragic. It doesn’t matter which. But no persecution mania, thank goodness. That would never do.’

      ‘Well, that’s over,’ said Tommy with a sigh, as he got into the car. ‘We shan’t need to come again for at least six months.’

      But they didn’t need to go and see her in six months, for three weeks later Aunt Ada died in her sleep.

       CHAPTER 3

       A Funeral

      ‘Funerals are rather sad, aren’t they?’ said Tuppence.

      They had just returned from attending Aunt Ada’s funeral, which had entailed a long and troublesome railway journey since the burial had taken place at the country village in Lincolnshire where most of Aunt Ada’s family and forebears had been buried.

      ‘What do you expect a funeral to be?’ said Tommy reasonably. ‘A scene of mad gaiety?’

      ‘Well, it could be in some places,’ said Tuppence. ‘I mean the Irish enjoy a wake, don’t they? They have a lot of keening and wailing first and then plenty of drink and a sort of mad whoopee. Drink?’ she added, with a look towards the sideboard.

      Tommy went over to it and duly brought back what he considered appropriate. In this case a White Lady.

      ‘Ah, that’s more like it,’ said Tuppence.

      She took off her black hat and threw it across the room and slipped off her long black coat.

      ‘I hate mourning,’ she said. ‘It always smells of moth balls because it’s been laid up somewhere.’

      ‘You don’t need to go on wearing mourning. It’s only to go to the funeral in,’ said Tommy.

      ‘Oh no, I know that. In a minute or two I’m going to go up and put on a scarlet jersey just to cheer things up. You can make me another White Lady.’

      ‘Really, Tuppence, I had no idea that funerals would bring out this party feeling.’

      ‘I said funerals were sad,’ said Tuppence when she reappeared a moment or two later, wearing a brilliant cherry-red dress with a ruby and diamond lizard pinned to the shoulder of it, ‘because it’s funerals like Aunt Ada’s that are sad. I mean elderly people and not many flowers. Not a lot of people sobbing and sniffing round. Someone old and lonely who won’t be missed much.’

      ‘I should have thought it would be much easier for you to stand that than it would if it were my funeral, for instance.’

      ‘That’s where you’re entirely wrong,’ said Tuppence. ‘I don’t particularly want to think of your funeral because I’d much prefer to die before you do. But I mean, if I were going to your funeral, at any rate it would be an orgy of grief. I should take a lot of handkerchiefs.’

      ‘With black borders?’

      ‘Well, I hadn’t thought of black borders but it’s a nice idea. And besides, the Burial service is rather lovely. Makes you feel uplifted. Real grief is real. It makes you feel awful but it does something to you. I mean, it works it out like perspiration.’

      ‘Really, Tuppence, I find your remarks about my decease and the effect it will have upon you in exceedingly bad taste. I don’t like it. Let’s forget about funerals.’

      ‘I agree. Let’s forget.’

      ‘The poor old bean’s gone,’ said Tommy, ‘and she went peacefully and without suffering. So, let’s leave it at that. I’d better clear up all these, I suppose.’

      He went over to the writing table and ruffled СКАЧАТЬ