'What?'
'I must go and talk to some old age pensioners at their club. I hadn't thought of them up to now.'
'For goodness' sake, look after yourself,' said Tommy. 'I think I'd better stay at home and keep an eye on you. But I've got to do more research in London tomorrow.'
'I'm going to do some research here,' said Tuppence.
Chapter 2
RESEARCH BY TUPPENCE
'I hope,' said Tuppence, 'that I'm not interrupting you, coming along like this? I thought I'd better ring up first in case you were out, you know, or busy. But, I mean, it's nothing particular so I could go away again at once if you liked. I mean, my feelings wouldn't be hurt or anything like that.'
'Oh, I'm delighted to see you, Mrs Beresford,' said Mrs Griffin.
She moved herself three inches along her chair so as to settle her back more comfortably and looked with what seemed to be distinct pleasure into Tuppence's somewhat anxious face.
'It's a
great pleasure, you know, when somebody new comes and lives in this place. We're so used to all our neighbours that a new face, or if I may say so a couple of new faces, is a treat. An absolute treat! I hope indeed that you'll both come to dinner one day. I don't know what time your husband gets back. He goes to London, does he not, most days?'
'Yes,' said Tuppence. 'That's very nice of you. I hope you'll come and see our house when it's more or less finished. I'm always thinking it's going to be finished but it never is.'
'Houses are rather like that,' said Mrs Griffin.
Mrs Griffin, as Tuppence knew very well from her various sources of information which consisted of daily women, old Isaac, Gwenda in the post office and sundry others, was ninety-four. The upright position which she enjoyed arranging because it took the rheumatic pains out of her back, together with her erect carriage, gave her the air of someone much younger. In spite of the wrinkled face, the head of uprising white hair surmounted by a lace scarf tied round her head reminded Tuppence faintly of a couple of her great-aunts in past days. She wore bifocal spectacles and had a hearing aid which she sometimes, but very seldom as far as Tuppence could see, had to use. And she looked thoroughly alert and perfectly capable of reaching the age of a hundred or even a hundred and ten.
'What have you been doing with yourself lately?' enquired Mrs Griffin. 'I gather you've got the electricians out of the house now. So Dorothy told me. Mrs Rogers, you know. She used to be my housemaid once and she comes now and cleans twice a week.'
'Yes, thank goodness,' said Tuppence. 'I was always falling into the holes they made. I really came,' said Tuppence, 'and it may sound rather silly but it's something I just wondered about - I expect you'll think it's rather silly too. I've been turning out things, you know, a lot of old bookshelves and things like that. We bought some books with the house, mostly children's books years and years old but I found some old favourites among them.'
'Ah yes,' said Mrs Griffin, 'I quite understand that you must very much have enjoyed the prospect of being able to read certain old favourites again. The Prisoner of Zenda, perhaps. My grandmother used to read The Prisoner of Zenda, I believe. I read it once myself. Really very enjoyable. Romantic, you know. The first romantic book, I imagine, one is allowed to read. You know, novel reading was not encouraged. My mother and my grandmother never approved of reading anything like a novel in the mornings. A story book as it was called. You know, you could read history or something serious, but novels were only pleasurable and so to be read in the afternoon.'
'I know,' said Tuppence. 'Well, I found a good many books that I liked reading again. Mrs Molesworth.'
'The Tapestry Room?' said Mrs Griffin with immediate comprehension.
'Yes. The Tapestry Room was one of my favourites.'
'Well, I always liked Four Winds Farm best,' said Mrs Griffin.
'Yes, that was there too. And several others. Many different kinds of authors. Anyway, I got down to the last shelf and I think there must have been an accident there. You know, someone had banged it about a good deal. When they were moving the furniture, I expect. There was a sort of hole and I scooped up a lot of old things out of that. Mostly torn books and among it there was this.'
She produced her parcel wrapped loosely in brown paper.
'It's a birthday book,' she said. 'An old-fashioned birthday book. And it had your name in it. Your name - I remember you told me - was Winifred Morrison, wasn't it?'
'Yes, my dear. Quite right.'
'And it was written in the birthday book. And so I wondered whether it would amuse you if I brought it along for you to see. It might have a lot of other old friends of yours in it and different things or names which would amuse you.'
'Well, that was very nice of you, my dear, and I should like to see it very much. You know, these things from the past, one does find very amusing to read in one's old age. A very kind thought of yours.'
'It's rather faded and torn and knocked about,' said Tuppence, producing her offering.
'Well, well,' said Mrs Griffin, 'yes. You know, everyone had a birthday book. Not so much after my time as a girl. I expect this may be one of the last ones. All the girls at the school I went to had a birthday book. You know, you wrote your name in your friend's birthday book and they wrote their name in yours and so on.
She took the book from Tuppence, opened it and began reading down the pages.
'Oh dear, oh dear,' she murmured, 'how it takes me back. Yes. Yes indeed. Helen Gilbert - yes, yes of course. And Daisy Sherfield. Sherfield, yes. Oh yes, I remember her. She had to have one of those tooth things in her mouth. A brace, I think they called it. And she was always taking it out. She said she couldn't stand it. And Edie Crone, Margaret Dickson. Ah yes. Good handwriting most of them had. Better than girls have nowadays. As for my nephew's letters, I really can't read them. Their handwriting is like hieroglyphics of some kind. One has to guess what most of the words are. Mollie Short. Ah yes, she had a stammer - it does bring things back.'
'I don't suppose, there are many of them, I mean -' Tuppence paused, feeling that she might be about to say something tactless.
'You're thinking most of them are dead, I suppose, dear. Well, you're quite right. Most of them are. But not all of them. No. I've still got quite a lot of people living, with whom I was, as they say, girls together. Not living here, because most girls that one knew married and went somewhere else. Either they had husbands who were in the Services and they went abroad, or they went to some other different town altogether. Two of my oldest friends live up in Northumberland. Yes, yes, it's very interesting.'
'There weren't, I suppose, any Parkinsons left then?' said Tuppence. 'I don't see the name anywhere.'
'Oh no. It was after the Parkinsons' time. There's something you want to find out about the Parkinsons, isn't there?'
'Oh yes there is,' said Tuppence. 'It's pure curiosity, you know, nothing else. But - well somehow in looking at things I got interested in the boy, Alexander Parkinson, and then, as I was walking through the churchyard the other day, I noticed that he'd died fair young, and his grave was there and that made me, think about him more.'
'He died young,' said Mrs Griffin. 'Yes. Everyone seems to think it was sad that he should have done so. He was a very intelligent boy and they hoped for - well, quite a brilliant future for him. It wasn't really any illness, some food he had on a picnic, I believe. So Mrs Henderson told me. She remembers a lot about the Parkinsons.'
'Mrs Henderson?' Tuppence looked up.
'Oh, you wouldn't know about her. She's in one of these old people's homes, you know. It's called Meadowside. It's about - oh about twelve to fifteen miles from here. You ought to go and see her. She'd tell you a lot of things, I expect, about that house you're living in. Swallow's Nest, it was called then, it's called something else, isn't it, now?'
'The Laurels.'
'Mrs Henderson is older than I am, although she was the youngest of quite a large family. She was a governess at the time. And then I think she was a kind of nurse-companion with Mrs Beddingfield who had Swallow's Nest, I mean The Laurels, then. And she likes talking about old times very much. You ought to go and see her, I think.'
'Oh, she wouldn't like -'
'Oh, my dear, I'm sure she would like. Go and see her. Just tell her that I suggested it. She remembers me and my sister Rosemary and I do go and see her occasionally, but not of late years because I haven't been able to get about. And you might go and see Mrs Henley, who lives in - what is it now? - Apple Tree Lodge, I think it is. That's mainly old age pensioners. Not quite the same class, you know, but it's very well run and there's a lot of gossip going there! I'm sure they'd all be quite pleased with visits. You know, anything to break the monotony.'
Chapter 3
TOMMY AND TUPPENCE COMPARE NOTES
'You look tired, Tuppence,' said Tommy as at the close of dinner they went into the sitting-room and Tuppence dropped into a chair, uttering several large sighs followed by a yawn.
'Tired? I'm dead beat,' said Tuppence.
'What have you been doing? Not things in the garden, I hope.'
'I have not been overworking myself physically,' said Tuppence, coldly. 'I've been doing like you. Mental research.'
'Also very exhausting, I agree,' said Tommy. 'Where, particularly? You didn't get an awful lot out of Mrs Griffin the day before yesterday, did you?'
'Well, I did get a good deal, I think. I didn't get much out of the first recommendation. At least, I suppose I did in a way.'