Агата Кристи – Death on the Nile / Смерть на Ниле (страница 4)

“I'm being ridiculous,” said Linnet to herself.

But it was curious how she did hate the idea of abandoning Wode.

And wasn't there something else nagging at her?

Jackie's voice with that note in it saying: “I shall die if I can't marry him! I shall die. I shall die.”

So positive, so earnest. Did she, Linnet, feel like that about Windlesham?

Assuredly she didn't. Perhaps she could never feel like that about anyone. It must be – rather wonderful – to feel like that.

The sound of a car came through the open window.

That must be Jackie and her young man. She'd go out and meet them.

She was standing in the open doorway as Jacqueline and Simon Doyle got out of the car.

“Linnet!” Jackie ran to her. “This is Simon. Simon, here's Linnet. She's just the most wonderful person in the world.”

Linnet saw a tall, broad-shouldered young man, with very dark blue eyes, curling brown hair, a square chin and a boyish, simple smile.

She stretched out a hand. The hand that clasped hers was firm and warm. She liked the way he looked at her, the genuine admiration.

Jackie had told him she was wonderful, and he clearly thought that she was wonderful.

A warm sweet feeling of intoxication ran through her veins.

“Isn't this all lovely?” she said. “Come in, Simon, and let me welcome my new land agent properly.”

And as she turned to lead the way she thought: “I'm frightfully – frightfully happy. I like Jackie's young man. I like him enormously. ”

And then with a sudden pang, “Lucky Jackie.”

Chapter 7

Tim Allerton leant back in his wicker chair and yawned as he looked out over the sea. He shot a quick glance at his mother.

Mrs Allerton was a good-looking, white-haired woman of fifty, and she adored her son.

He said, “Do you really like Majorca[38], Mother?”

“Well,” Mrs Allerton considered, “it's cheap.”

“And cold,” said Tim with a slight shiver.

He was a tall, thin young man, with dark hair and a rather narrow chest. His eyes were sad and his chin was indecisive. He had long delicate hands.

He was supposed “to write,” but it was understood among his friends that he was not a success.

“What are you thinking of, Tim?”

Mrs Allerton was alert. Her bright, dark-brown eyes looked suspicious. Tim Allerton grinned at her.

“I was thinking of Egypt.”

“Egypt?”

Mrs Allerton sounded doubtful.

“Real warmth, darling. Lazy golden sands. The Nile. I'd like to go up the Nile, wouldn't you?”

“Oh, I'd like it.” Her tone was dry. “But Egypt's expensive, my dear. Not for those who have to count the pennies.”

Tim laughed. He rose, stretched himself. Suddenly he looked alive and eager. There was an excited note in his voice.

“The expense will be my affair.[39] Yes, darling. A little flutter on the Stock Exchange.[40] With satisfactory results. I heard this morning.”

“This morning?” said Mrs Allerton sharply. “You only had one letter and that – ” She stopped and bit her lip.

“And that was from Joanna,” he finished coolly. “Quite right, Mother. What a Queen of detectives you'd make! The famous Hercule Poirot would have to be careful if you were about.”

Mrs Allerton looked rather cross.[41]

“I just happened to see the handwriting – ”

“And knew it wasn't that of a stockbroker? Quite right. As a matter of fact it was yesterday I heard from them. Poor Joanna's handwriting is rather noticeable.”

“What does Joanna say? Any news?”

Mrs Allerton tried to make her voice sound casual and ordinary. The friendship between her son and his second cousin, Joanna Southwood, always irritated her. Not that there was “anything in it.” She was quite sure there wasn't. Tim had never manifested a sentimental interest in Joanna, nor she in him. They both liked people and discussing people. Joanna had an amusing though caustic tongue.

It was some feeling hard to define – perhaps jealousy in the pleasure Tim which always seemed to take in Joanna's society. He and his mother were such perfect companions that the sight of him interested in another woman always worried Mrs Allerton. She fancied, too, that her presence on these occasions set some barrier between the two members of the younger generation, when at sight of her, their talk had changed. Quite definitely, Mrs Allerton did not like Joanna Southwood. She thought her insincere, affected and superficial.

In answer to her question, Tim pulled the letter out of his pocket and glanced through it. It was quite a long letter, his mother noted.

“Nothing much,” he said. “The Devenishes are getting a divorce. Windlesham's gone to Canada. Seems he was pretty badly hit when Linnet Ridgeway turned him down[42]. She's definitely going to marry this land agent person.”

“How extraordinary! Is he very dreadful?”

“No, no, not at all. He's one of the Devonshire Doyles. No money, of course – and he was actually engaged to one of Linnet's best friends. Pretty thick, that.[43]”

“I don't think it's at all nice,” said Mrs Allerton.

Tim gave her a quick affectionate glance.

“I know, darling. You don't approve of snapping other people's husbands and all that sort of thing.”

“In my day we had our standards,” said Mrs Allerton. “Nowadays young people seem to think they can just go about doing anything they choose.”

Tim smiled.

“They don't only think it. They do it. Look at Linnet Ridgeway!”

“Well, I think it's horrid!”

Tim twinkled at her.

“Cheer up, you old die-hard[44]! Perhaps I agree with you. Anyway, I haven't helped myself to anyone's wife or fiancee yet.[45]”

“I'm sure you'd never do such a thing,” said Mrs Allerton. She added, “I've brought you up properly.”

He smiled teasingly at her as he folded the letter and put it away again.

Mrs Allerton let the thought just flash across her mind: “Most letters he shows to me. He only reads me snippets from Joanna's.”

But she put the thought away from her, and decided, as ever, to behave like a gentlewoman.

“Is Joanna enjoying life?” she asked.

“So so. Says she thinks of opening a delicatessen shop in Mayfair.”

“She always talks about being hard up[46],” said Mrs Allerton, “but she goes about everywhere and her clothes must cost her a lot. She's always beautifully dressed.”

“Ah, well,” said Tim, “she probably doesn't pay for them.

I just mean quite literally that she leaves her bills unpaid.”

Mrs Allerton sighed.