Appointment With Death (Hercule Poirot 19)

Nadine Boynton looked thoughtfully at Sarah.

She said: ‘I see. You’re a doctor. That makes a difference.’

‘You see what I mean?’ Sarah urged.

Nadine bent her hea

d. She was still thoughtful.

‘You are quite right, of course,’ she said after a minute or two. ‘But there are difficulties. My mother-in-law is in bad health and she has what I can only describe as a morbid dislike of any outsiders penetrating into her family circle.’

Sarah said mutinously: ‘But Carol is a grown-up woman.’

Nadine Boynton shook her head.

‘Oh, no,’ she said. ‘In body, but not in mind. If you talked to her you must have noticed that. In an emergency she would always behave like a frightened child.’

‘Do you think that’s what happened? Do you think she became—afraid?’

‘I should imagine, Miss King, that my mother-in-law insisted on Carol having nothing more to do with you.’

‘And Carol gave in?’

Nadine Boynton said quietly: ‘Can you really imagine her doing anything else?’

The eyes of the two women met. Sarah felt that behind the mask of conventional words they understood each other. Nadine, she felt, understood the position. But she was clearly not prepared to discuss it in any way.

Sarah felt discouraged. The other evening it had seemed to her as though half the battle were won. By means of secret meetings she would imbue Carol with the spirit of revolt—yes, and Raymond, too. (Be honest now, wasn’t it Raymond really she had had in mind all along?) And now, in the very first round of the battle she had been ignominiously defeated by that hulk of shapeless flesh with her evil, gloating eyes. Carol had capitulated without a struggle.

‘It’s all wrong!’ cried Sarah.

Nadine did not answer. Something in her silence went home to Sarah like a cold hand laid on her heart. She thought: ‘This woman knows the hopelessness of it much better than I do. She’s lived with it!’

The lift gates opened. The older Mrs Boynton emerged. She leaned on a stick and Raymond supported her on the other side.

Sarah gave a slight start. She saw the old woman’s eyes sweep from her to Nadine and back again. She had been prepared for dislike in those eyes—for hatred even. She was not prepared for what she saw—a triumphant and malicious enjoyment. Sarah turned away. Nadine went forward and joined the other two.

‘So there you are, Nadine,’ said Mrs Boynton. ‘I’ll sit down and rest a little before I go out.’

They settled her in a high-backed chair. Nadine sat down beside her.

‘Who were you talking to, Nadine?’

‘A Miss King.’

‘Oh, yes. The girl who spoke to Raymond the other night. Well, Ray, why don’t you go and speak to her now? She’s over there at the writing-table.’

The old woman’s mouth widened into a malicious smile as she looked at Raymond. His face flushed. He turned his head away and muttered something.

‘What’s that you say, son?’

‘I don’t want to speak to her.’

‘No, I thought not. You won’t speak to her. You couldn’t however much you wanted to!’

She coughed suddenly—a wheezing cough.

‘I’m enjoying this trip, Nadine,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.’