Sad Cypress. Agatha Christie

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      Nurse O’Brien said:

      ‘It was not! For this morning I asked Mrs Bishop, careless-like, what was the late Mr Welman’s first name, and it was Henry, she told me!’

      The two women exchanged glances. Nurse Hopkins had a long nose, and the end of it quivered a little with pleasurable emotion. She said thoughtfully:

      ‘Lewis—Lewis. I wonder, now. I don’t recall the name anywhere round these parts.’

      ‘It would be many years ago, dear,’ the other reminded her.

      ‘Yes, and, of course, I’ve only been here a couple of years. I wonder now—’

      Nurse O’Brien said:

      ‘A very handsome man. Looked as though he might be a cavalry officer!’

      Nurse Hopkins sipped her tea. She said:

      ‘That’s very interesting.’

      Nurse O’Brien said romantically:

      ‘Maybe they were boy and girl together and a cruel father separated them…’

      Nurse Hopkins said with a deep sigh:

      ‘Perhaps he was killed in the war…’

      When Nurse Hopkins, pleasantly stimulated by tea and romantic speculation, finally left the house, Mary Gerrard ran out of the door to overtake her.

      ‘Oh, Nurse, may I walk down to the village with you?’

      ‘Of course you can, Mary, my dear.’

      Mary Gerrard said breathlessly:

      ‘I must talk to you. I’m so worried about everything.’

      The older woman looked at her kindly.

      At twenty-one, Mary Gerrard was a lovely creature with a kind of wild-rose unreality about her: a long delicate neck, pale golden hair lying close to her exquisitely shaped head in soft natural waves, and eyes of a deep vivid blue.

      Nurse Hopkins said:

      ‘What’s the trouble?’

      ‘The trouble is that the time is going on and on and I’m not doing anything!’

      Nurse Hopkins said drily:

      ‘Time enough for that.’

      ‘No, but it is so—so unsettling. Mrs Welman has been wonderfully kind, giving me all that expensive schooling. I do feel now that I ought to be starting to earn my own living. I ought to be training for something.’

      Nurse Hopkins nodded sympathetically.

      ‘It’s such a waste of everything if I don’t. I’ve tried to—to explain what I feel to Mrs Welman, but—it’s difficult—she doesn’t seem to understand. She keeps saying there’s plenty of time.’

      Nurse Hopkins said:

      ‘She’s a sick woman, remember.’

      Mary flushed, a contrite flush.

      ‘Oh, I know. I suppose I oughtn’t to bother her. But it is worrying—and Father’s so—so beastly about it! Keeps jibing at me for being a fine lady! But indeed I don’t want to sit about doing nothing!’

      ‘I know you don’t.’

      ‘The trouble is that training of any kind is nearly always expensive. I know German pretty well now, and I might do something with that. But I think really I want to be a hospital nurse. I do like nursing and sick people.’

      Nurse Hopkins said unromantically:

      ‘You’ve got to be as strong as a horse, remember!’

      ‘I am strong! And I really do like nursing. Mother’s sister, the one in New Zealand, was a nurse. So it’s in my blood, you see.’

      ‘What about massage?’ suggested Nurse Hopkins. ‘Or Norland? You’re fond of children. There’s good money to be made in massage.’

      Mary said doubtfully:

      ‘It’s expensive to train for it, isn’t it? I hoped—but of course that’s very greedy of me—she’s done so much for me already.’

      ‘Mrs Welman, you mean? Nonsense. In my opinion, she owes you that. She’s given you a slap-up education, but not the kind that leads to anything much. You don’t want to teach?’

      ‘I’m not clever enough.’

      Nurse Hopkins said:

      ‘There’s brains and brains! If you take my advice, Mary, you’ll be patient for the present. In my opinion, as I said, Mrs Welman owes it to you to help you get a start at making your living. And I’ve no doubt she means to do it. But the truth of the matter is, she’s got fond of you, and she doesn’t want to lose you.’

      Mary said:

      ‘Oh!’ She drew in her breath with a little gasp. ‘Do you really think that’s it?’

      ‘I haven’t the least doubt of it! There she is, poor old lady, more or less helpless, paralysed one side and nothing and nobody much to amuse her. It means a lot to her to have a fresh, pretty young thing like you about the house. You’ve a very nice way with you in a sick-room.’

      Mary said softly:

      ‘If you really think so—that makes me feel better… Dear Mrs Welman, I’m very, very fond of her! She’s been so good to me always. I’d do anything for her!’

      Nurse Hopkins said drily:

      ‘Then the best thing you can do is to stay where you are and stop worrying! It won’t be for long.’

      Mary said, ‘Do you mean—?’

      Her eyes looked wide and frightened.

      The District Nurse nodded.

      ‘She’s rallied wonderfully, but it won’t be for long. There will be a second stroke and then a third. I know the way of it only too well. You be patient, my dear. If you keep the old lady’s last days happy and occupied, that’s a better deed than many. The time for the other will come.’

      Mary said:

      ‘You’re very kind.’

      Nurse Hopkins said:

      ‘Here’s your father coming out from the lodge—and not to pass the time of day pleasantly, I should say!’

      They were just nearing the big iron gates. On the steps of the lodge an elderly man with a bent back was painfully hobbling down the two steps.

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