At Bertram’s Hotel. Агата Кристи

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      ‘Oh no.’

      ‘Our flight was five minutes ahead of time,’ said Mrs Carpenter.

      ‘Yes, yes. Good, very good.’ He took a pull upon himself. ‘I hope this place will be all right for you?’

      ‘Oh, I’m sure it’s very nice,’ said Mrs Carpenter warmly, glancing round her. ‘Very comfortable.’

      ‘Rather old-fashioned, I’m afraid,’ said the Colonel apologetically. ‘Rather a lot of old fogies. No—er—dancing, anything like that.’

      ‘No, I suppose not,’ agreed Elvira.

      She glanced round in an expressionless manner. It certainly seemed impossible to connect Bertram’s with dancing.

      ‘Lot of old fogies here, I’m afraid,’ said Colonel Luscombe, repeating himself. ‘Ought, perhaps, to have taken you somewhere more modern. Not very well up in these things, you see.’

      ‘This is very nice,’ said Elvira politely.

      ‘It’s only for a couple of nights,’ went on Colonel Luscombe. ‘I thought we’d go to a show this evening. A musical—’ he said the word rather doubtfully, as though not sure he was using the right term. ‘Let Down Your Hair Girls. I hope that will be all right?’

      ‘How delightful,’ exclaimed Mrs Carpenter. ‘That will be a treat, won’t it, Elvira?’

      ‘Lovely,’ said Elvira, tonelessly.

      ‘And then supper afterwards? At the Savoy?’

      Fresh exclamations from Mrs Carpenter. Colonel Luscombe, stealing a glance at Elvira, cheered up a little. He thought that Elvira was pleased, though quite determined to express nothing more than polite approval in front of Mrs Carpenter. ‘And I don’t blame her,’ he said to himself.

      He said to Mrs Carpenter:

      ‘Perhaps you’d like to see your rooms—see they’re all right and all that—’

      ‘Oh, I’m sure they will be.’

      ‘Well, if there’s anything you don’t like about them, we’ll make them change it. They know me here very well.’

      Miss Gorringe, in charge at the desk, was pleasantly welcoming. Nos 28 and 29 on the second floor with an adjoining bathroom.

      ‘I’ll go up and get things unpacked,’ said Mrs Carpenter. ‘Perhaps, Elvira, you and Colonel Luscombe would like to have a little gossip.’

      Tact, thought Colonel Luscombe. A bit obvious, perhaps, but anyway it would get rid of her for a bit. Though what he was going to gossip about to Elvira, he really didn’t know. A very nice-mannered girl, but he wasn’t used to girls. His wife had died in childbirth and the baby, a boy, had been brought up by his wife’s family whilst an elder sister had come to keep house for him. His son had married and gone to live in Kenya, and his grandchildren were eleven, five and two and a half and had been entertained on their last visit by football and space science talk, electric trains, and a ride on his foot. Easy! But young girls!

      He asked Elvira if she would like a drink. He was about to propose a bitter lemon, ginger ale, or orangeade, but Elvira forestalled him.

      ‘Thank you. I should like a gin and vermouth.’

      Colonel Luscombe looked at her rather doubtfully. He supposed girls of—what was she? sixteen? seventeen?—did drink gin and vermouth. But he reassured himself that Elvira knew, so to speak, correct Greenwich social time. He ordered a gin and vermouth and a dry sherry.

      He cleared his throat and asked:

      ‘How was Italy?’

      ‘Very nice, thank you.’

      ‘And that place you were at, the Contessa what’s-her-name? Not too grim?’

      ‘She is rather strict. But I didn’t let that worry me.’

      He looked at her, not quite sure whether the reply was not slightly ambiguous.

      He said, stammering a little, but with a more natural manner than he had been able to manage before:

      ‘I’m afraid we don’t know each other as well as we ought to, seeing I’m your guardian as well as your godfather. Difficult for me, you know—difficult for a man who’s an old buffer like me—to know what a girl wants—at least—I mean to know what a girl ought to have. Schools and then after school—what they used to call finishing in my day. But now, I suppose it’s all more serious. Careers eh? Jobs? All that? We’ll have to have a talk about all that sometime. Anything in particular you want to do?’

      ‘I suppose I shall take a secretarial course,’ said Elvira without enthusiasm.

      ‘Oh. You want to be a secretary?’

      ‘Not particularly—’

      ‘Oh—well, then—’

      ‘It’s just what you start with,’ Elvira explained.

      Colonel Luscombe had an odd feeling of being relegated to his place.

      ‘These cousins of mine, the Melfords. You think you’ll like living with them? If not—’

      ‘Oh I think so. I like Nancy quite well. And Cousin Mildred is rather a dear.’

      ‘That’s all right then?’

      ‘Quite, for the present.’

      Luscombe did not know what to say to that. Whilst he was considering what next to say, Elvira spoke. Her words were simple and direct.

      ‘Have I any money?’

      Again he took his time before answering, studying her thoughtfully. Then he said:

      ‘Yes. You’ve got quite a lot of money. That is to say, you will have when you are twenty-one.’

      ‘Who has got it now?’

      He smiled. ‘It’s held in trust for you; a certain amount is deducted each year from the income to pay for your maintenance and education.’

      ‘And you are the trustee?’

      ‘One of them. There are three.’

      ‘What happens if I die?’

      ‘Come, come, Elvira, you’re not going to die. What nonsense!’

      ‘I hope not—but one never knows, does one? An airliner crashed only last week and everyone was killed.’

      ‘Well, it’s not going to happen to you,’ said Luscombe firmly.

      ‘You can’t really know that,’ said Elvira. ‘I was just wondering who would get my money if I died?’

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