Read Online At Bertram's Hotel by Agatha Christie - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Agatha Christie
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she always called her “black poplin” mantle. Then there would ensue a long hour with nobody in a hurry and Aunt Helen thinking of every conceivable grocery that could be purchased and stored up for future use. Christmas was provided for, and there was even a far-off look towards Easter. The young Jane had fidgeted somewhat, and had been told to go and look at the glass department by way of amusement.
Having finished her purchases, Aunt Helen would then proceed to lengthy inquiries about her chosen shop-assistant's mother, wife, second boy, and crippled sister-in-law. Having had a thoroughly pleasant morning, Aunt Helen would say in the playful manner of those times, “And how would a little girl feel about some luncheon?” Whereupon they went up in the lift to the fourth floor and had luncheon which always finished with a strawberry ice. After that, they bought half a pound of coffee chocolate creams and went to a matinée in a four-wheeler.
Of course, the Army and Navy Stores had had a good many face-lifts since those days. In fact, it was now quite unrecognizable from the old times. It was gayer and much brighter. Miss Marple, though throwing a kindly and indulgent smile at the past, did not object to the amenities of the present. There was still a restaurant, and there she repaired to order her lunch.
As she was looking carefully down the menu and deciding what to have, she looked across the room and her eyebrows went up a little. How extraordinary coincidence was! Here was a woman she had never seen till the day before, though she had seen plenty of newspaper photographs of her - at race meetings, in Bermuda, or standing by her own plane or car. Yesterday, for the first time, she had seen her in the flesh. And now, as was so often the case, there was the coincidence of running into her again in a most unlikely place. For somehow she did not connect lunch at the Army and Navy Stores with Bess Sedgwick. She would not have been surprised to see Bess Sedgwick emerging from a den in Soho, or stepping out of Covent Garden Opera House in evening dress with a diamond tiara on her head. But somehow, not in the Army and Navy Stores which in Miss Marple's mind was, and always would be, connected with the armed forces, their wives, daughters, aunts and grandmothers. Still, there Bess Sedgwick was, looking as usual very smart, in her dark suit and her emerald shirt, lunching at a table with a man. A young man with a lean hawk-like face, wearing a black leather jacket. They were leaning forward talking earnestly together, forking in mouthfuls of food as though they were quite unaware what they were eating.
An assignation, perhaps? Yes, probably an assignation. The man must be fifteen or twenty years younger than she was - but Bess Sedgwick was a magnetically attractive woman.
Miss Marple looked at the young man consideringly and decided that he was what she called a “handsome fellow.” She also decided that she didn't like him very much. “Just like Harry Russell,” said Miss Marple to herself, dredging up a prototype as usual from the past. “Never up to any good. Never did any woman who had anything to do with him any good either.”
She wouldn't take advice from me, thought Miss Marple, but I could give her some. However, other people's love affairs were no concern of hers, and Bess Sedgwick, by all accounts, could take care of herself very well when it came to love affairs.
Miss Marple sighed, ate her lunch, and meditated a visit to the stationery department.
Curiosity, or what she preferred herself to call “taking an interest” in other people's affairs was undoubtedly one of Miss Marple's characteristics.
Deliberately leaving her gloves on the table, she rose and crossed the floor to the cash desk, taking a route that passed close to Lady Sedgwick's table. Having paid her bill she “discovered” the absence of her gloves and returned to get them - unfortunately dropping her handbag on the return route. It
Having finished her purchases, Aunt Helen would then proceed to lengthy inquiries about her chosen shop-assistant's mother, wife, second boy, and crippled sister-in-law. Having had a thoroughly pleasant morning, Aunt Helen would say in the playful manner of those times, “And how would a little girl feel about some luncheon?” Whereupon they went up in the lift to the fourth floor and had luncheon which always finished with a strawberry ice. After that, they bought half a pound of coffee chocolate creams and went to a matinée in a four-wheeler.
Of course, the Army and Navy Stores had had a good many face-lifts since those days. In fact, it was now quite unrecognizable from the old times. It was gayer and much brighter. Miss Marple, though throwing a kindly and indulgent smile at the past, did not object to the amenities of the present. There was still a restaurant, and there she repaired to order her lunch.
As she was looking carefully down the menu and deciding what to have, she looked across the room and her eyebrows went up a little. How extraordinary coincidence was! Here was a woman she had never seen till the day before, though she had seen plenty of newspaper photographs of her - at race meetings, in Bermuda, or standing by her own plane or car. Yesterday, for the first time, she had seen her in the flesh. And now, as was so often the case, there was the coincidence of running into her again in a most unlikely place. For somehow she did not connect lunch at the Army and Navy Stores with Bess Sedgwick. She would not have been surprised to see Bess Sedgwick emerging from a den in Soho, or stepping out of Covent Garden Opera House in evening dress with a diamond tiara on her head. But somehow, not in the Army and Navy Stores which in Miss Marple's mind was, and always would be, connected with the armed forces, their wives, daughters, aunts and grandmothers. Still, there Bess Sedgwick was, looking as usual very smart, in her dark suit and her emerald shirt, lunching at a table with a man. A young man with a lean hawk-like face, wearing a black leather jacket. They were leaning forward talking earnestly together, forking in mouthfuls of food as though they were quite unaware what they were eating.
An assignation, perhaps? Yes, probably an assignation. The man must be fifteen or twenty years younger than she was - but Bess Sedgwick was a magnetically attractive woman.
Miss Marple looked at the young man consideringly and decided that he was what she called a “handsome fellow.” She also decided that she didn't like him very much. “Just like Harry Russell,” said Miss Marple to herself, dredging up a prototype as usual from the past. “Never up to any good. Never did any woman who had anything to do with him any good either.”
She wouldn't take advice from me, thought Miss Marple, but I could give her some. However, other people's love affairs were no concern of hers, and Bess Sedgwick, by all accounts, could take care of herself very well when it came to love affairs.
Miss Marple sighed, ate her lunch, and meditated a visit to the stationery department.
Curiosity, or what she preferred herself to call “taking an interest” in other people's affairs was undoubtedly one of Miss Marple's characteristics.
Deliberately leaving her gloves on the table, she rose and crossed the floor to the cash desk, taking a route that passed close to Lady Sedgwick's table. Having paid her bill she “discovered” the absence of her gloves and returned to get them - unfortunately dropping her handbag on the return route. It
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