A Daughter’s a Daughter. Агата Кристи

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СКАЧАТЬ went out of the room and Ann leaned her head back against the cushions and shut her eyes.

      The sound of the traffic came faint and muted through the closed window, a pleasant humming sound like far-off bees. On the table near her a bowl of yellow jonquils sent their sweetness into the air.

      She felt peaceful and happy. She was going to miss Sarah, but it was rather restful to be by herself for a short time.

      What a queer panic she had had this morning …

      She wondered what James Grant’s party would consist of this evening.

      II

      The Mogador was a small rather old-fashioned restaurant with good food and wine and an unhurried air about it.

      Ann was the first of the party to arrive and found Colonel Grant sitting in the reception bar opening and shutting his watch.

      ‘Ah, Ann.’ He sprang up to greet her. ‘Here you are.’ His eyes went with approval over the black dinner dress and the single string of pearls round her throat. ‘It’s a great thing when a pretty woman can be punctual.’

      ‘I’m three minutes late, no more,’ said Ann, smiling up at him.

      James Grant was a tall man with a stiff soldierly bearing, close-cropped grey hair and an obstinate chin.

      He consulted his watch again.

      ‘Now why can’t these other people turn up? Our table will be ready for us at a quarter-past eight and we want some drinks first. Sherry for you? You prefer it to a cocktail, don’t you?’

      ‘Yes, please. Who are the others?’

      ‘The Massinghams. You know them?’

      ‘Of course.’

      ‘And Jennifer Graham. She’s a first cousin of mine, but I don’t know whether you ever—’

      ‘I met her once with you, I think.’

      ‘And the other man is Richard Cauldfield. I only ran into him the other day. Hadn’t seen him for years. He’s spent most of his life in Burma. Feels a bit out of things coming back to this country.’

      ‘Yes, I suppose so.’

      ‘Nice fellow. Rather a sad story. Wife died having her first child. He was devoted to her. Couldn’t get over it for a long time. Felt he had to get right away—that’s why he went out to Burma.’

      ‘And the baby?’

      ‘Oh, that died, too.’

      ‘How sad.’

      ‘Ah, here come the Massinghams.’

      Mrs Massingham, always alluded to by Sarah as ‘the Mem Sahib’ bore down upon them in a grand flashing of teeth. She was a lean stringy woman, her skin bleached and dried by years in India. Her husband was a short tubby man with a staccato style of conversation.

      ‘How nice to see you again,’ said Mrs Massingham, shaking Ann warmly by the hand. ‘And how delightful to be coming out to dinner properly dressed. Positively I never seem to wear an evening dress. Everyone always says, “Don’t change.” I do think life is drab nowadays, and the things one has to do oneself! I seem to be always at the sink! I really don’t think we can stay in this country. We’ve been considering Kenya.’

      ‘Lot of people clearing out,’ said her husband. ‘Fed up. Blinking government.’

      ‘Ah, here’s Jennifer,’ said Colonel Grant, ‘and Cauldfield.’

      Jennifer Graham was a tall horse-faced woman of thirty-five who whinnied when she laughed. Richard Cauldfield was a middle-aged man with a sunburned face.

      He sat down by Ann and she began to make conversation.

      Had he been in England long? What did he think of things?

      It took a bit of getting used to, he said. Everything was so different from what it was before the war. He’d been looking for a job—but jobs weren’t so easy to find, not for a man of his age.

      ‘No, I believe that’s true. It seems all wrong somehow.’

      ‘Yes, after all I’m still the right side of fifty.’ He smiled a rather child-like and disarming smile. ‘I’ve got a small amount of capital. I’m wondering about buying a small place in the country. Going in for market gardening. Or chickens.’

      ‘Not chickens!’ said Ann. ‘I’ve several friends who have tried chickens—and they always seem to get diseases.’

      ‘No, perhaps market gardening would be better. One wouldn’t make much of a profit, perhaps, but it would be a pleasant life.’

      He sighed.

      ‘Things are so much in the melting-pot. Perhaps if we get a change of government—’

      Ann acquiesced doubtfully. It was the usual panacea.

      ‘It must be difficult to know what exactly to go in for,’ she said. ‘Quite worrying.’

      ‘Oh, I don’t worry. I don’t believe in worry. If a man has faith in himself and proper determination, every difficulty will straighten itself out.’

      It was a dogmatic assertion and Ann looked doubtful.

      ‘I wonder,’ she said.

      ‘I can assure you that it is so. I’ve no patience with people who go about always whining about their bad luck.’

      ‘Oh, there I do agree,’ exclaimed Ann with such fervour that he raised his eyebrows questioningly.

      ‘You sound as though you had experience of something of the kind.’

      ‘I have. One of my daughter’s boy friends is always coming and telling us of his latest misfortune. I used to be sympathetic, but now I’ve become callous and bored.’

      Mrs Massingham said across the table:

      ‘Hard-luck stories are boring.’

      Colonel Grant said:

      ‘Who are you talking of, young Gerald Lloyd? He’ll never amount to much.’

      Richard Cauldfield said quietly to Ann:

      ‘So you have a daughter? And a daughter old enough to have a boy friend.’

      ‘Oh yes. Sarah is nineteen.’

      ‘And you’re very fond of her?’

      ‘Of course.’

      She saw a momentary expression of pain cross СКАЧАТЬ