Agatha Christie - Marple 13 by Sleeping Murder

Author:Sleeping Murder [Murder, Sleeping]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-10-31T21:27:23+00:00

pink and white complexion which masked the fact that there was no baby-like softness whatever about her.

They discussed Dorothy’s ailments or imagined ailments and went on to Miss Marple’s health, the air of Dillmouth, and the general poor condition of most of the younger generation.

‘Not made to eat their crusts as children,’ Mrs Fane pronounced. ‘None of that allowed inmy nursery.’

‘You have more than one son?’ asked Miss Marple.

‘Three. The eldest, Gerald, is in Singapore in the Far East Bank. Robert is in the Army.’ Mrs Fane sniffed. ‘Married a Roman Catholic,’ she said with significance. ‘You know whatthat means!

All the children brought up as Catholics. What Robert’s father would have said, I don’t know.

My husband was very low church. I hardly ever hear from Robert nowadays. He takes exception to some of the things I have said to him purely for his own good. I believe in being sincere and saying exactly what one thinks. His marriage was, in my opinion, a great misfortune. He maypretend to be happy, poor boy—but I can’t feel that it is at all satisfactory.’

‘Your youngest son is not married, I believe?’

Mrs Fane beamed.

‘No, Walter lives at home. He is slightly delicate— always was from a child—and I have always had to look after his health very carefully. (He will be in presently.) I can’t tell you what a thoughtful and devoted son he is. I am really a very lucky woman to have such a son.’

‘And he has never thought of marrying?’ enquired Miss Marple.

‘Walter always says he really cannot be bothered with the modern young woman. They don’t appeal to him. He and I have so much in common that I’m afraid he doesn’t go out as much as he should. He reads Thackeray to me in the evenings, and we usually have a game of picquet.

Walter is a real home bird.’

‘How very nice,’ said Miss Marple. ‘Has he always been in the firm? Somebody told me that you had a son who was out in Ceylon, as a tea-planter, but perhaps they got it wrong.’

A slight frown came over Mrs Fane’s face. She urged walnut cake upon her guest and explained.

‘That was as a very young man. One of those youthful impulses. A boy always longs to see the world. Actually, there was a girl at the bottom of it. Girls can beso unsettling.’

‘Oh yes, indeed. My own nephew, I remember—’

Mrs Fane swept on, ignoring Miss Marple’s nephew. She held the floor and was enjoying the opportunity to reminisce to this sympathetic friend of dear Dorothy’s.

‘Amost unsuitable girl—as seems always to be the way. Oh, I don’t mean anactress or anything like that. The local doctor’s sister—more like his daughter, really, years younger—and the poor man with no idea how to bring her up. Men are so helpless, aren’t they? She ran quite wild, entangled herself first with a young man in the office—a mere clerk—and a very unsatisfactory Page 74

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