The Moving Finger. Agatha Christie
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Название: The Moving Finger
Автор: Agatha Christie
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Ужасы и Мистика
Серия: Miss Marple
isbn: 9780007422470
isbn:
‘Well?’
She had turned her face away, now she turned it slowly back again. It was crimson and there were tears in her eyes. She spoke now with all the childishness back in her voice.
‘Why should I go away? And be made to go away? They don’t want me, but I’ll stay. I’ll stay and make everyone sorry. I’ll make them all sorry. Hateful pigs! I hate everyone here in Lymstock. They all think I’m stupid and ugly. I’ll show them. I’ll show them. I’ll—’
It was a childish, oddly pathetic rage.
I heard a step on the gravel round the corner of the house.
‘Get up,’ I said savagely. ‘Go into the house through the drawing-room. Go up to the first floor to the bathroom. End of the passage. Wash your face. Quick.’
She sprang awkwardly to her feet and darted through the window as Joanna came round the corner of the house.
‘Gosh, I’m hot,’ she called out. She sat down beside me and fanned her face with the Tyrolean scarf that had been round her head. ‘Still I think I’m educating these damned brogues now. I’ve walked miles. I’ve learnt one thing, you shouldn’t have these fancy holes in your brogues. The gorse prickles go through. Do you know, Jerry, I think we ought to have a dog?’
‘So do I,’ I said. ‘By the way, Megan is coming to lunch.’
‘Is she? Good.’
‘You like her?’ I asked.
‘I think she’s a changeling,’ said Joanna. ‘Something left on a doorstep, you know, while the fairies take the right one away. It’s very interesting to meet a changeling. Oof, I must go up and wash.’
‘You can’t yet,’ I said, ‘Megan is washing.’
‘Oh, she’s been foot-slogging too, has she?’
Joanna took out her mirror and looked at her face long and earnestly. ‘I don’t think I like this lipstick,’ she announced presently.
Megan came out through the window. She was composed, moderately clean, and showed no signs of the recent storm. She looked doubtfully at Joanna.
‘Hallo,’ said Joanna, still preoccupied by her face. ‘I’m so glad you’ve come to lunch. Good gracious, I’ve got a freckle on my nose. I must do something about it. Freckles are so earnest and Scottish.’
Partridge came out and said coldly that luncheon was served.
‘Come on,’ said Joanna, getting up. ‘I’m starving.’
She put her arm through Megan’s and they went into the house together.
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