Читать книгу Towards Zero - Агата Кристи, Agatha Christie, Detection Club The - Страница 11

The sun was pouring down on Nevile Strange’s house at Hindhead.

It was an April day such as usually occurs at least once in a month, hotter than most of the June days to follow.

Nevile Strange was coming down the stairs. He was dressed in white flannels and held four tennis racquets under his arm.

If a man could have been selected from amongst other Englishmen as an example of a lucky man with nothing to wish for, a Selection Committee might have chosen Nevile Strange. He was a man well known to the British public, a first-class tennis player and all-round sportsman. Though he had never reached the finals at Wimbledon, he had lasted several of the opening rounds and in the mixed doubles had twice reached the semi-finals. He was, perhaps, too much of an all-round athlete to be a Champion tennis player. He was scratch at golf, a fine swimmer and had done some good climbs in the Alps. He was thirty-three, had magnificent health, good looks, plenty of money, an extremely beautiful wife whom he had recently married and, to all appearances, no cares or worries.

Nevertheless as Nevile Strange went downstairs this fine morning a shadow went with him. A shadow perceptible, perhaps, to no eyes but his. But he was aware of it, the thought of it furrowed his brow and made his expression troubled and indecisive.

He crossed the hall, squared his shoulders as though definitely throwing off some burden, passed through the living-room and out on to a glass-enclosed verandah where his wife, Kay, was curled up amongst cushions drinking orange juice.

Kay Strange was twenty-three and unusually beautiful. She had a slender but subtly voluptuous figure, dark red hair, such a perfect skin that she used only the slightest make-up to enhance it, and those dark eyes and brows which so seldom go with red hair and which are so devastating when they do.

Her husband said lightly:

‘Hullo, Gorgeous, what’s for breakfast?’

Kay replied: ‘Horribly bloody-looking kidneys for you—and mushrooms—and rolls of bacon.’

‘Sounds all right,’ said Nevile.

He helped himself to the aforementioned viands and poured out a cup of coffee. There was a companionable silence for some minutes.

‘Oo,’ said Kay, voluptuously wriggling bare toes with scarlet manicured nails. ‘Isn’t the sun lovely? England’s not so bad after all.’

They had just come back from the South of France.

Nevile, after a bare glance at the newspaper headlines, had turned to the Sports page and merely said ‘Um …’

Then, proceeding to toast and marmalade, he put the paper aside and opened his letters.

There were a good many of these, but most of them he tore across and chucked away. Circulars, advertisements, printed matter.

Kay said: ‘I don’t like my colour scheme in the living-room. Can I have it done over, Nevile?’

‘Anything you like, beautiful.’

‘Peacock blue,’ said Kay dreamily, ‘and ivory satin cushions.’

‘You’ll have to throw in an ape,’ said Nevile.

‘You can be the ape,’ said Kay.

Nevile opened another letter.

‘Oh, by the way,’ said Kay. ‘Shirty has asked us to go to Norway on the yacht at the end of June. Rather sickening we can’t.’

She looked cautiously sideways at Nevile and added wistfully: ‘I would love it so.’

Something, some cloud, some uncertainty, seemed hovering on Nevile’s face.

Kay said rebelliously:

‘Have we got to go to dreary old Camilla’s?’

Nevile frowned.

‘Of course we have. Look here, Kay, we’ve had this out before. Sir Matthew was my guardian. He and Camilla looked after me. Gull’s Point is my home, as far as any place is home to me.’

‘Oh all right, all right,’ said Kay. ‘If we must, we must. After all, we get all that money when she dies, so I suppose we have to suck up a bit.’

Nevile said angrily:

‘It’s not a question of sucking up! She’s no control over the money. Sir Matthew left it in trust for her during her lifetime and to come to me and my wife afterwards. It’s a question of affection. Why can’t you understand that?’

Kay said, after a moment’s pause:

‘I do understand really. I’m just putting on an act because—well because I know I’m only allowed there on sufferance as it were. They hate me! Yes, they do! Lady Tressilian looks down that long nose of hers at me and Mary Aldin looks over my shoulder when she talks to me. It’s all very well for you. You don’t see what goes on.’

‘They always seem to be very polite to you. You know quite well I wouldn’t stand for it if they weren’t.’

Kay gave him a curious look from under her dark lashes.

‘They’re polite enough. But they know how to get under my skin all right. I’m the interloper, that’s what they feel.’

‘Well,’ said Nevile, ‘after all, I suppose—that’s natural enough, isn’t it?’

His voice had changed slightly. He got up and stood looking out at the view with his back to Kay.

‘Oh yes, I dare say, it’s natural. They were devoted to Audrey, weren’t they?’ Her voice shook a little. ‘Dear, well-bred, cool, colourless Audrey! Camilla’s not forgiven me for taking her place.’

Nevile did not turn. His voice was lifeless, dull. He said: ‘After all, Camilla’s old—past seventy. Her generation doesn’t really like divorce, you know. On the whole I think she’s accepted the position very well considering how fond she was of—of Audrey.’

His voice changed just a little as he spoke the name.

‘They think you treated her badly.’

‘So I did,’ said Nevile under his breath, but his wife heard.

‘Oh Nevile—don’t be so stupid. Just because she chose to make such a frightful fuss.’

‘She didn’t make a fuss. Audrey never made fusses.’

‘Well, you know what I mean. Because she went away and was ill, and went about everywhere looking broken-hearted. That’s what I call a fuss! Audrey’s not what I call a good loser. From my point of view if a wife can’t hold her husband she ought to give him up gracefully! You two had nothing in common. She never played a game and was as anaemic and washed up as—as a dishrag. No life or go in her! If she really cared about you, she ought to have thought about your happiness first and been glad you were going to be happy with someone more suited to you.’

Nevile turned. A faintly sardonic smile played around his lips.

‘What a little sportsman! How to play the game in love and matrimony!’

Kay laughed and reddened.

‘Well, perhaps I was going a bit too far. But at any rate once the thing had happened, there it was. You’ve got to accept these things!’

Nevile said quietly:

‘Audrey accepted it. She divorced me so that you and I could marry.’

‘Yes, I know—’ Kay hesitated.

Nevile said: ‘You’ve never understood Audrey.’

‘No, I haven’t. In a way, Audrey gives me the creeps. I don’t know what it is about her. You never know what she’s thinking … She’s—she’s a little frightening.’

‘Oh, nonsense, Kay.’

‘Well, she frightens me. Perhaps it’s because she’s got brains.’

‘My lovely nitwit!’

Kay laughed.

‘You always call me that!’

‘Because it’s what you are!’

They smiled at each other. Nevile came over to her and, bending down, kissed the back of her neck.

‘Lovely, lovely Kay,’ he murmured.

‘Very good Kay,’ said Kay. ‘Giving up a lovely yachting trip to go and be snubbed by her husband’s prim Victorian relations.’

Nevile went back and sat down by the table.

‘You know,’ he said. ‘I don’t see why we shouldn’t go on that trip with Shirty if you really want to so much.’

Kay sat up in astonishment.

‘And what about Saltcreek and Gull’s Point?’

Nevile said in a rather unnatural voice:

‘I don’t see why we shouldn’t go there early in September.’

‘Oh, but Nevile, surely—’ She stopped.

‘We can’t go in July and August because of the tournaments,’ said Nevile. ‘But we’d finish up at St Loo the last week in August, and it would fit in very well if we went on to Saltcreek from there.’

‘Oh, it would fit in all right—beautifully. But I thought—well, she always goes there for September, doesn’t she?’

‘Audrey, you mean?’

‘Yes. I suppose they could put her off, but—’

‘Why should they put her off?’

Kay stared at him dubiously.

‘You mean, we’d be there at the same time? What an extraordinary idea.’

Nevile said irritably:

‘I don’t think it’s at all an extraordinary idea. Lots of people do it nowadays. Why shouldn’t we all be friends together? It makes things so much simpler. Why, you said so yourself only the other day.’

‘I did?’

‘Yes, don’t you remember? We were talking about the Howes, and you said it was the sensible civilized way to look at things, and that Leonard’s new wife and his Ex were the best of friends.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t mind. I do think it’s sensible. But—well, I don’t think Audrey would feel like that about it.’

‘Nonsense.’

‘It isn’t nonsense. You know, Nevile, Audrey really was terribly fond of you … I don’t think she’d stand it for a moment.’

‘You’re quite wrong, Kay. Audrey thinks it would be quite a good thing.’

‘Audrey—what do you mean, Audrey thinks? How do you know what Audrey thinks?’

Nevile looked slightly embarrassed. He cleared his throat a little self-consciously.

‘As a matter of fact, I happened to run into her yesterday when I was up in London.’

‘You never told me.’

Nevile said irritably:

‘I’m telling you now. It was absolute chance. I was walking across the park and there she was coming towards me. You wouldn’t want me to run away from her, would you?’

‘No, of course not,’ said Kay, staring. ‘Go on.’

‘I—we—well, we stopped, of course, and then I turned round and walked with her. I—I felt it was the least I could do.’

‘Go on,’ said Kay.

‘And then we sat down on a couple of chairs and talked. She was very nice—very nice indeed.’

‘Delightful for you,’ said Kay.

‘And we got talking, you know, about one thing and another. She was quite natural and normal and—and all that.’

‘Remarkable!’ said Kay.

‘And she asked how you were—’

‘Very kind of her!’

‘And we talked about you for a bit. Really, Kay, she couldn’t have been nicer.’

‘Darling Audrey!’

‘And then it sort of came to me—you know—how nice it would be if—if you two could be friends—if we could all get together. And it occurred to me that perhaps we might manage it at Gull’s Point this summer. Sort of place it could happen quite naturally.’

‘You thought of that?’

‘I—well—yes, of course. It was all my idea.’

‘You’ve never said anything to me about having any such idea.’

‘Well, I only happened to think of it just then.’

‘I see. Anyway, you suggested it and Audrey thought it was a marvellous brainwave?’

For the first time, something in Kay’s manner seemed to penetrate to Nevile’s consciousness.

He said:

‘Is anything the matter, Gorgeous?’

‘Oh no, nothing! Nothing at all! It didn’t occur to you or Audrey whether I should think it a marvellous idea?’

Nevile stared at her.

‘But, Kay, why on earth should you mind?’

Kay bit her lip.

Nevile went on:

‘You said yourself—only the other day—’

‘Oh, don’t go into all that again! I was talking about other people—not us.’

‘But that’s partly what made me think of it.’

‘More fool me. Not that I believe that.’

Nevile was looking at her with dismay.

‘But, Kay, why should you mind? I mean, there’s nothing for you to mind about!’

‘Isn’t there?’

‘Well, I mean—any jealousy or that—would be on the other side.’ He paused, his voice changed. ‘You see, Kay, you and I treated Audrey damned badly. No, I don’t mean that. It was nothing to do with you. I treated her very badly. It’s no good just saying that I couldn’t help myself. I feel that if this could come off I’d feel better about the whole thing. It would make me a lot happier.’

Kay said slowly: ‘So you haven’t been happy?’

‘Darling idiot, what do you mean? Of course I’ve been happy, radiantly happy. But—’

Kay cut in.

‘But—that’s it! There’s always been a “but” in this house. Some damned creeping shadow about the place. Audrey’s shadow.’

Nevile stared at her.

‘You mean to say you’re jealous of Audrey?’ he asked.

‘I’m not jealous of her. I’m afraid of her … Nevile, you don’t know what Audrey’s like.’

‘Not know what she’s like when I’ve been married to her for over eight years?’

‘You don’t know,’ Kay repeated, ‘what Audrey is like.’