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Authors: Agatha Christie
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appropriate station. It was the time when things were beginning to happen to railways - small stations were closed, even pulled down, grass sprouted on the decayed platforms. For twenty minutes - half an hour - the train ran on, but nothing identifiable was to be seen. Over fields, in the far distance, Tuppence once saw the spire of a church.
Then had come some factory complex - tall chimneys - a line of pre-fab houses, then open country again.
Tuppence had thought to herself: 'That house was rather like a dream! Perhaps it was a dream. I don't suppose I'll ever go and look for it - too difficult. Besides, rather a pity, perhaps someday, maybe, I'll come across it by accident!'
And so she had forgotten all about it until a picture hanging on a wall had reawakened a veiled memory.
And now, thanks to one word uttered unwittingly by Albert, the quest was ended.
Or, to speak correctly, a quest was beginning.
Tuppence sorted out three maps, a guidebook, and various other accessories.
Roughly now she knew the area she would have to search.
Jane's school she marked with a large cross - the branch railway line, which ran into the new line to London - the time lapse whilst she had slept.
The final area as planned covered a considerable mileage north of Medchester, southeast of Market Basing which was a small town, but was quite an important railway junction, west probably of Shaleborough.
She'd take the car, and start early tomorrow morning.
She got up and went into the bedroom and studied the picture over the mantelpiece.
Yes, there was no mistake. That was the house she had seen from the train three years ago. The house she had promised to look for someday. Someday had come. Someday was tomorrow.
By The Pricking of My Thumbs
Book II - THE HOUSE ON THE CANAL
By The Pricking of My Thumbs
Chapter 7
THE FRIENDLY WITCH
Before leaving the next morning, Tuppence took a last careful look at the picture hanging in her room, not so much to fix its details firmly in her mind, but to memorize its position in the landscape. This time she would be seeing it not from the window of a train but from the road. The angle of approach would be quite different. There might be many hump-backed bridges, many similar disused canals - perhaps other houses looking like this one (but that Tuppence refused to believe).
The picture was signed, but the signature of the artist was illegible. All that could be said was that it began with B.
Turning away from the picture, Tuppence checked her paraphernalia: an A.B.C. and its attached railway map; a selection of ordnance maps; tentative names of places - Medchester, Westleigh - Market Basing - Middlesham - Inchwell. Between them, they enclosed the triangle that she had decided to examine. With her she took a small overnight bag since she would have a three hours' drive before she even arrived at the area of operations, and after that, it meant, she judged a good deal of slow driving along country roads and lanes looking for likely canals.
After stopping in Medchester for coffee and a snack, she pushed on by a second-class road adjacent to a railway line, and leading through wooded country with plenty of streams.
As in most of the rural districts of England, signposts were plentiful, bearing names that Tuppence had never heard of, and seldom seeming to lead to the place in question. There seemed to be a certain cunning about this part of the road system of England. The road would twist off from the canal, and when you pressed on hopefully to where you thought the canal might have taken itself, you drew a blank. If you had gone in the direction of Great Michelden, the next signpost you came to offered you a choice of two roads, one to Pennington Sparrow and the other to Farlingford. You chose Farlingford and managed actually to get to such a place but almost immediately the next signpost sent you back fumingly to Medchester, so that you practically retraced your steps.
Actually Tuppence never did
Then had come some factory complex - tall chimneys - a line of pre-fab houses, then open country again.
Tuppence had thought to herself: 'That house was rather like a dream! Perhaps it was a dream. I don't suppose I'll ever go and look for it - too difficult. Besides, rather a pity, perhaps someday, maybe, I'll come across it by accident!'
And so she had forgotten all about it until a picture hanging on a wall had reawakened a veiled memory.
And now, thanks to one word uttered unwittingly by Albert, the quest was ended.
Or, to speak correctly, a quest was beginning.
Tuppence sorted out three maps, a guidebook, and various other accessories.
Roughly now she knew the area she would have to search.
Jane's school she marked with a large cross - the branch railway line, which ran into the new line to London - the time lapse whilst she had slept.
The final area as planned covered a considerable mileage north of Medchester, southeast of Market Basing which was a small town, but was quite an important railway junction, west probably of Shaleborough.
She'd take the car, and start early tomorrow morning.
She got up and went into the bedroom and studied the picture over the mantelpiece.
Yes, there was no mistake. That was the house she had seen from the train three years ago. The house she had promised to look for someday. Someday had come. Someday was tomorrow.
By The Pricking of My Thumbs
Book II - THE HOUSE ON THE CANAL
By The Pricking of My Thumbs
Chapter 7
THE FRIENDLY WITCH
Before leaving the next morning, Tuppence took a last careful look at the picture hanging in her room, not so much to fix its details firmly in her mind, but to memorize its position in the landscape. This time she would be seeing it not from the window of a train but from the road. The angle of approach would be quite different. There might be many hump-backed bridges, many similar disused canals - perhaps other houses looking like this one (but that Tuppence refused to believe).
The picture was signed, but the signature of the artist was illegible. All that could be said was that it began with B.
Turning away from the picture, Tuppence checked her paraphernalia: an A.B.C. and its attached railway map; a selection of ordnance maps; tentative names of places - Medchester, Westleigh - Market Basing - Middlesham - Inchwell. Between them, they enclosed the triangle that she had decided to examine. With her she took a small overnight bag since she would have a three hours' drive before she even arrived at the area of operations, and after that, it meant, she judged a good deal of slow driving along country roads and lanes looking for likely canals.
After stopping in Medchester for coffee and a snack, she pushed on by a second-class road adjacent to a railway line, and leading through wooded country with plenty of streams.
As in most of the rural districts of England, signposts were plentiful, bearing names that Tuppence had never heard of, and seldom seeming to lead to the place in question. There seemed to be a certain cunning about this part of the road system of England. The road would twist off from the canal, and when you pressed on hopefully to where you thought the canal might have taken itself, you drew a blank. If you had gone in the direction of Great Michelden, the next signpost you came to offered you a choice of two roads, one to Pennington Sparrow and the other to Farlingford. You chose Farlingford and managed actually to get to such a place but almost immediately the next signpost sent you back fumingly to Medchester, so that you practically retraced your steps.
Actually Tuppence never did
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