Authors: Agatha Christie
Mary said slowly:
“And yetâsomehowâI feel she doesn't like me.”
“With good reason, I should say,” said Nurse Hopkins bluntly.
“Now, don't look so innocent, Mary! Mr. Roderick's been making sheep's eyes at you for some time now.”
Mary went red.
Nurse Hopkins went on:
“He's got it badly, in my opinion. Fell for you all of a sudden. What about you, my girl? Got any feelings for him?”
Mary said hesitatingly:
“IâI don't know. I don't think so. But of course, he's very nice.”
“H'm,” said Nurse Hopkins. “He wouldn't be
my
fancy! One of those men who are finicky and a bundle of nerves. Fussy about their food, too, as likely as not. Men aren't much at the best of times. Don't be in too much of a hurry, Mary, my dear. With your looks you can afford to pick and choose. Nurse O'Brien passed the remark to me the other day that you ought to go on the films. They like blondes, I've always heard.”
Mary said, with a slight frown creasing her forehead:
“Nurse, what do you think I ought to do about Father? He thinks I ought to give some of this money to him.”
“Don't you do anything of the kind,” said Nurse Hopkins wrathfully. “Mrs. Welman never meant that money for him. It's my opinion he'd have lost his job years ago if it hadn't been for you. A lazier man never stepped!”
Mary said:
“It seems funny when she'd all that money that she never made a will to say how it was to go.”
Nurse Hopkins shook her head.
“People are like that. You'd be surprised. Always putting it off.”
Mary said:
“It seems downright silly to me.”
Nurse Hopkins said with a faint twinkle:
“Made a will yourself, Mary?”
Mary stared at her.
“Oh, no.”
“And yet you're over twenty-one.”
“But IâI haven't got anything to leaveâat least I suppose I have now.”
Nurse Hopkins said sharply:
“Of course you have. And a nice tidy little sum, too.”
Mary said:
“Oh, well, there's no hurryâ¦.”
“There you go,” said Nurse Hopkins drily. “Just like everyone else. Because you're a healthy young girl isn't a reason why you shouldn't be smashed up in a charabanc or a bus, or run over in the street any minute.”
Mary laughed. She said:
“I don't even know how to make a will.”
“Easy enough. You can get a form at the post office. Let's go and get one right away.”
In Nurse Hopkins' cottage, the form was spread out and the important matter discussed. Nurse Hopkins was enjoying herself thoroughly. A will, as she said, was next best to a death, in her opinion.
Mary said:
“Who'd get the money if I didn't make a will?”
Nurse Hopkins said rather doubtfully:
“Your father, I suppose.”
Mary said sharply:
“He shan't have it. I'd rather leave it to my auntie in New Zealand.”
Nurse Hopkins said cheerfully:
“It wouldn't be much use leaving it to your father, anywayâ
he's
not long for this world, I should say.”
Mary had heard Nurse Hopkins make this kind of pronouncement too often to be impressed by it.
“I can't remember my auntie's address. We've not heard from her for years.”
“I don't suppose that matters,” said Nurse Hopkins. “You know her Christian name?”
“Mary. Mary Riley.”
“That's all right. Put down you leave everything to Mary Riley, sister of the late Eliza Gerrard of Hunterbury, Maidensford.”
Mary bent over the form, writing. As she came to the end she shivered suddenly. A shadow had come between her and the sun. She looked up to see Elinor Carlisle standing outside the window looking in. Elinor said:
“What are you doing so busily?”
Nurse Hopkins said with a laugh:
“She's making her will, that's what she's doing.”
“Making her will?” Suddenly Elinor laughedâa strange laughâalmost hysterical.
She said:
“So you're making your will, Mary.
That's funny. That's very funny
â¦.”
Still laughing, she turned away and walked rapidly along the street.
Nurse Hopkins stared.
“Did you ever? What's come to her?”
V
Elinor had not taken more than half a dozen stepsâshe was still laughingâwhen a hand fell on her arm from behind. She stopped abruptly and turned.
Dr. Lord looked straight at her, his brow creased into a frown.
He said peremptorily:
“What were you laughing at?”
Elinor said:
“ReallyâI don't know.”
Peter Lord said:
“That's rather a silly answer!”
Elinor flushed. She said:
“I think I must be nervousâor something. I looked in at the District Nurse's cottage andâand Mary Gerrard was writing out her will. It made me laugh; I don't know why!”
Lord said abruptly:
“
Don't you?
”
Elinor said:
“It was silly of meâI tell youâI'm nervous.”
Peter Lord said:
“I'll write you out a tonic.”
Elinor said incisively:
“How useful!”
He grinned disarmingly.
“Quite useless, I agree. But it's the only thing one can do when people won't tell one what is the matter with them!”
Elinor said:
“There's nothing the matter with me.”
Peter Lord said calmly:
“There's quite a lot the matter with you.”
Elinor said:
“I've had a certain amount of nervous strain, I supposeâ¦.”
He said:
“I expect you've had quite a lot. But that's not what I'm talking about.” He paused. “Are youâare you staying down here much longer?”
“I'm leaving tomorrow.”
“You won'tâlive down here?”
Elinor shook her head.
“Noânever. I thinkâI thinkâI shall sell the place if I can get a good offer.”
Dr. Lord said rather flatly:
“I seeâ¦.”
Elinor said:
“I must be getting home now.”
She held out her hand firmly. Peter Lord took it. He held it. He said very earnestly:
“Miss Carlisle, will you please tell me what was in your mind when you laughed just now?”
She wrenched her hand away quickly.
“What should there be in my mind?”
“That's what I'd like to know.”
His face was grave and a little unhappy.
Elinor said impatiently:
“It just struck me as funny, that was all!”
“That Mary Gerrard was making a will? Why? Making a will is a perfectly sensible procedure. Saves a lot of trouble. Sometimes, of course, it
makes
trouble!”
Elinor said impatiently:
“Of courseâeveryone should make a will. I didn't mean that.”
Dr. Lord said:
“Mrs. Welman ought to have made a will.”
Elinor said with feeling:
“Yes, indeed.”
The colour rose in her face.
Dr. Lord said unexpectedly:
“What about you?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you said just now everyone should make a will! Have
you?
”
Elinor stared at him for a minute, then she laughed.
“How extraordinary!” she said. “No, I haven't. I hadn't thought of it! I'm just like Aunt Laura. Do you know, Dr. Lord, I shall go home and write to Mr. Seddon about it at once.”
Peter Lord said:
“Very sensible.”
VI
In the library Elinor had just finished a letter:
Dear Mr. Seddon,âWill you draft a will for me to sign? Quite a simple one. I want to leave everything to Roderick Welman absolutely.
Yours sincerely,
Elinor Carlisle
She glanced at the clock. The post would be going in a few minutes.
She opened the drawer of the desk, then remembered she had used the last stamp that morning.
There were some in her bedroom, though, she was almost sure.
She went upstairs. When she reentered the library with the stamp in her hand, Roddy was standing by the window.
He said:
“So we leave here tomorrow. Good old Hunterbury. We've had some good times here.”
Elinor said:
“Do you mind its being sold?”
“Oh, no, no! I quite see it's the best thing to be done.”
There was a silence. Elinor picked up her letter, glanced through it to see if it was all right. Then she sealed and stamped it.
Letter from Nurse O'Brien to Nurse Hopkins, July 14th:
Laborough Court
Dear Hopkins,âHave been meaning to write to you for some days now. This is a lovely house and the pictures, I believe, quite famous. But I can't say it's as comfortable as Hunterbury was, if you know what I mean. Being in the dead country it's difficult to get maids, and the girls they have got are a raw lot, and some of them not too obliging, and though I'm sure I'm never one to give trouble, meals sent up on a tray should at least be hot, and no facilities for boiling a kettle, and the tea
not
always made with boiling water! Still, all that's neither here nor there. The patient's a nice quiet gentlemanâdouble pneumonia, but the crisis is past and doctor says going on well.
What I've got to tell you that will really interest you is the very queerest coincidence you ever knew. In the drawing room, on the grand piano, there's a photograph in a big silver frame; and would you believe it, it's the same photograph that I told you aboutâthe one signed
Lewis
that old Mrs. Welman asked for. Well, of course, I
was
intriguedâand who wouldn't be? And I asked the butler who it was, which he answered at once saying it was Lady Rattery's brotherâSir Lewis Rycroft. He lived, it seems, not far from here and he was killed in the War. Very sad, wasn't it? I asked casual like was he married, and the butler said yes, but that Lady Rycroft went into a lunatic asylum, poor thing, soon after the marriage. She was still alive, he said. Now, isn't that interesting? And we were quite wrong, you see, in all our ideas. They must have been very fond of each other, he and Mrs. W., and unable to marry because of the wife being in an asylum. Just like the pictures, isn't it? And her remembering all those years and looking at his photograph just before she died. He was killed in 1917, the butler said. Quite a romance, that's what
I
feel.
Have you seen that new picture with Myrna Loy? I saw it was coming to Maidensford this week. No cinema anywhere near here! Oh, it's awful to be buried in the country. No wonder they can't get decent maids!
Well, goodbye for the present, dear, write and tell me
all
the news.
Yours sincerely,
Eileen O'Brien
Letter from Nurse Hopkins to Nurse O'Brien, July 14th:
Rose Cottage
Dear O'Brien,âEverything goes on here much as usual. Hunterbury is desertedâall the servants gone and a board up: For Sale. I saw Mrs. Bishop the other day, she is staying with her sister who lives about a mile away. She was very upset, as you can imagine, at the place being sold. It seems she made sure Miss Carlisle would marry
Mr. Welman and live there. Mrs. B. says that the engagement is off! Miss Carlisle went away to London soon after you left. She was
very
peculiar in her manner once or twice. I really didn't know what to make of her! Mary Gerrard has gone to London and is starting to train for a masseuse. Very sensible of her, I think. Miss Carlisle's going to settle two thousand pounds on her, which I call very handsome and more than what many would do.
By the way, it's funny how things come about. Do you remember telling me something about a photograph signed
Lewis
that Mrs. Welman showed you? I was having a chat the other day with Mrs. Slattery (she was housekeeper to old Dr. Ransome who had the practice before Dr. Lord), and of course she's lived here all her life and knows a lot about the gentry round about. I just brought the subject up in a casual manner, speaking of Christian names and saying that the name of Lewis was uncommon and amongst others she mentioned Sir Lewis Rycroft over at Forbes Park. He served in the War in the 17th Lancers and was killed towards the end of the War. So I said
he was a great friend of Mrs. Welman's at Hunterbury, wasn't he?
And at once she gave me a
look
and said,
Yes, very
close friends they'd been, and
some said more than friends,
but that she herself wasn't one to
talk
âand why shouldn't they be friends? So I said but surely Mrs. Welman was a
widow
at the time, and she said Oh yes,
she
was a widow. So, dear, I saw
at once
she meant something by
that,
so I said it was odd then, that they'd never married, and she said at once,
“
They couldn't marry. He'd got a
wife
in a
lunatic asylum!”
So now, you see, we know
all
about it! Curious the way things come about, isn't it? Considering the easy way you get divorces nowadays, it does seem a shame that insanity shouldn't have been a ground for it then.
Do you remember a good-looking young chap, Ted Bigland, who used to hang around after Mary Gerrard a lot? He's been at me for her address in London, but I haven't given it to him. In my opinion, Mary's a cut above Ted Bigland. I don't know if you realized it, dear, but Mr. RâWâwas very taken with her. A pity, because it's made trouble. Mark my words, that's the reason for the engagement between him and Miss Carlisle being off. And, if you ask me, it's hit
her badly.
I don't know what she saw in
him,
I'm sureâhe wouldn't have been my cup of tea, but I hear from a reliable source that she's always been
madly
in love with him. It does seem a mix-up, doesn't it? And she's got all that money, too. I believe he was always led to expect his aunt would leave him something substantial.
Old Gerrard at the Lodge is failing rapidlyâhas had several nasty dizzy spells. He's just as rude and cross-grained as ever. He actually said the other day that Mary wasn't his daughter. “Well,” I said, “I'd be
ashamed
to say a thing like that about your wife if I were you.” He just looked at me and said, “You're nothing but a fool. You don't understand.” Polite, wasn't it? I took him up pretty sharply, I can tell you. His wife was lady's maid to Mrs. Welman before her marriage, I believe.
I saw
The Good Earth
last week. It was lovely! Women have to put up with a lot in China, it seems.
Yours ever,
Jessie Hopkins
Post-card from Nurse Hopkins to Nurse O'Brien:
Fancy our letters just crossing! Isn't this weather awful?
Post-card from Nurse O'Brien to Nurse Hopkins:
Got your letter this morning. What a
coincidence!
Letter from Roderick Welman to Elinor Carlisle, July 15th:
Dear Elinor,âJust got your letter. No, really, I have no feelings about Hunterbury being sold. Nice of you to consult me. I think you're doing the wisest thing if you don't fancy living there, which you obviously don't. You may have some difficulty in getting rid of it, though. It's a biggish place for present-day needs, though, of course, it's been modernized and is up to date, with good servants' quarters, and gas and electric light and all that. Anyway, I hope you'll have luck!
The heat here is glorious. I spend hours in the sea. Rather a funny crowd of people, but I don't mix much. You told me once that I wasn't a good mixer. I'm afraid it's true. I find most of the human race extraordinarily repulsive. They probably reciprocate this feeling.
I have long felt that you are one of the only really satisfactory representatives of humanity. Am thinking of wandering on to the Dalmatian coast in a week or two. Address c/o Thomas Cook, Dubrovnik, from the 22nd onwards. If there's anything I can do, let me know.
Yours, with admiration and gratitude,
Roddy
Letter from Mr. Seddon of Messrs Seddon, Blatherwick & Seddon to Miss Elinor Carlisle, July 20th:
104 Bloomsbury Square
Dear Miss Carlisle,âI certainly think you should accept Major Somervell's offer of twelve thousand five hundred (£12,500) for Hunterbury. Large properties are extremely difficult to sell at the moment, and the price offered seems to be most advantageous. The offer depends, however, on immediate possession, and I know Major Somervell has been seeing other properties in the neighbourhood, so I would advise immediate acceptance.
Major Somervell is willing, I understand, to take the place furnished for three months, by which time the legal formalities should be accomplished and the sale can go through.
As regards the lodge keeper, Gerrard, and the question of pensioning him off, I hear from Dr. Lord that the old man is seriously ill and not expected to live.
Probate has not yet been granted, but I have advanced one hundred pounds to Miss Mary Gerrard pending the settlement.
Yours sincerely,
Edmund Seddon
Letter from Dr. Lord to Miss Elinor Carlisle, July 24th:
Dear Miss Carlisle,âOld Gerrard passed away today. Is there anything I can do for you in any way? I hear you have sold the house to our new MP, Major Somervell.
Yours sincerely,
Peter Lord
Letter from Elinor Carlisle to Mary Gerrard, July 25th:
Dear Mary,âI am so sorry to hear of your father's death.
I have had an offer for Hunterburyâfrom a Major Somervell. He is anxious to get in as soon as possible. I am going down there to go through my aunt's papers and clear up generally. Would it be possible for you to get your father's things moved out of the Lodge as quickly as possible? I hope you are doing well and not finding your massage training too strenuous.
Yours very sincerely,
Elinor Carlisle
Letter from Mary Gerrard to Nurse Hopkins, July 25th:
Dear Nurse Hopkins,âThank you so much for writing to me about Father. I'm glad he didn't suffer. Miss Elinor writes me that the house is sold and that she would like the Lodge cleared out as soon as possible. Could you put me up if I came down tomorrow for the funeral? Don't bother to answer if that's all right.
Yours affectionately,
Mary Gerrard