Читать книгу Murder in the Mill-Race - Edith Caroline Rivett - Страница 10

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“Miss Torrington, is it not? May I introduce my wife?”

Raymond’s easy voice behind her brought Anne back to the realities of a sunny day in a new and lovely home, and she realised who this tall woman must be—the wonderful Sister Monica of Gramarye. She was certainly a very tall woman, but her garb accentuated her height: she was dressed in the long dark cloak and veil which hospital nurses had worn as uniform in the early nineteen hundreds: the dark silk veil was drawn smoothly over silver hair, parted in the centre, and below the wings of intensely white hair her eyes were unexpectedly black. Into Anne’s mind flashed the thought: “She’s simply fantastic ... unbelievable ...” even as she pulled herself together and held out her hand.

“I do apologise for troubling you,” said the visitor. “I thought the house was still empty and you would not be arriving until later in the day. I just brought a little bunch of flowers to welcome you. The children picked them for you, and they are from all of us at Gramarye. Rosemary, give the flowers to Mrs. Ferens, dear.”

From behind the dark cloak emerged a very small fair child. Without a word or a smile she held up a posy of flowers to Anne, and the latter gave a cry of pleasure.

“Oh, but they’re lovely! What a kind thought—and I adore wild daffodils. Look, Raymond, aren’t they just adorable?”

The posy was indeed a thing of delight, tiny wild daffodils, dog violets, primroses and wind-flowers put together with much skill and surrounded with a delightful paper frill. “It’s the prettiest bouquet I’ve ever had, Rosemary. Thank you very much, Miss Torrington. Nothing could have given me more pleasure.”

“I’m so happy that you like them. I’m always called Sister Monica, if you don’t mind, Mrs. Ferens. Now I’m not going to stay. I just wanted to wish you happiness in your new home. Say good-bye, Rosemary. Perhaps Mrs. Ferens will come and see us all some day later on.”

“I should love to,” said Anne, and bent to kiss the small pale child, but Rosemary drew back, her eyes startled, and hid behind the long dark skirts of the nurse.

“Forgive her, she’s very shy,” said Sister Monica. “She’ll soon get over it. I’m so glad you’ve got such a lovely day for your first day in Milham. Good-bye.”

She had a deep soft voice, and she smiled benignly at Anne—but the smile was only on her lips, not in her eyes. Anne waved to her as she went, repeating words of thanks, and then followed Raymond back into the drawing-room, closing the door after her this time.

“Cripes!” she exclaimed. “What a woman! She gives me the horrors. Why on earth didn’t you warn me what she was like?”

“I thought I did, angel. I told you I didn’t like her. The pseudo-religious female always gets my hackles up.”

“I can’t bear the look of her. That dreadful old-fashioned uniform is just an affectation, and it’s enough to give any small child the jitters,” said Anne. “I’m certain she’s bogus, Ray.”

“Look here, Anne, don’t be too censorious about the female. I admit she’s a shattering apparition, but you’ve got to remember she’s been running Gramarye for thirty years, to the admiration and satisfaction of all concerned. Not only that, she’s worked for the church, she’s been emergency nurse and midwife in the village, and during the war she did all the Red Cross collections and other cadgings. Flag days and the lord knows what else. I admit I’m thankful I haven’t got to have any professional dealings with her—old Brown’s still M.O. at Gramarye—but I think we’ve both got to watch our step with Sister Monica, and be very careful not to criticise her to anyone else.”

“Oh, I see that: I’m not a fool, Ray: but I’ve never seen anybody I disliked so much at first glance. I saw her shadow right across the doorway.”

“You can’t blame a woman of that size for casting a shadow, angel, and it was very amiable of her to bring the flowers. They’re very pretty flowers.”

“They’re lovely, but Ray, don’t you realise she was listening to us talking? She must have heard our voices, and she didn’t ring the bell or knock or call to us.”

“Yes. Quite characteristic, I expect. She’s a dominating type behind that smarmy manner, and she’s been sovereign in her small domain for a very long time. I can well believe she’s a snooper who kids herself it’s her duty to snoop. Well, that’s enough about that. We’re agreed we don’t like her, but bear in mind that she’s the cat’s whiskers here. Listen, Anne. That’s the van. This is where we get busy.”