Christie, Agatha - Absent in the Spring by Christie Agatha

Author:Christie, Agatha [Christie, Agatha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2013-10-11T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

And that, Joan reflected, had been the end of that.

Averil had gone about, very silent, answering in monosyllables when she was spoken to, never spoke if she could help it. She had got thinner and paler.

A month later she had expressed a wish to go to London and train in a secretarial school.

Rodney had assented at once. Averil had left them with no pretence of distress over the parting.

When she had come home on a visit three months later, she had been quite normal in manner and had seemed, from her account, to be having quite a gay life in London.

Joan was relieved and expressed her relief to Rodney.

‘The whole thing has blown over completely. I never thought for a moment it was really serious – just one of those silly fancies girls get.’

Rodney looked at her, smiled, and said, ‘Poor little Joan.’

That phrase of his always annoyed her.

‘Well, you must admit it was worrying at the time.’

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘it was certainly worrying. But it wasn’t your worry, was it, Joan?’

‘What do you mean? Anything that affects the children upsets me far more than it upsets them.’

‘Does it?’ Rodney said. ‘I wonder …’

It was true, Joan thought, that there was now a certain coldness between Averil and her father. They had always been such friends. Now there seemed little except formal politeness between them. On the other hand, Averil had been quite charming, in her cool, noncommittal way, to her mother.

I expect, thought Joan, that she appreciates me better now that she doesn’t live at home.

She herself certainly welcomed Averil’s visits. Averil’s cool, good sense seemed to ease things in the household.

Barbara was now grown up and was proving difficult.

Joan was increasingly distressed by her younger daughter’s choice of friends. She seemed to have no kind of discrimination. There were plenty of nice girls in Crayminster, but Barbara, out of sheer perversity, it seemed, would have none of them.

‘They’re so hideously dull, Mother.’

‘Nonsense, Barbara. I’m sure both Mary and Alison are charming girls, full of fun.’

‘They’re perfectly awful. They wear snoods.’

Joan had stared, bewildered.

‘Really, Barbara – what do you mean? What can it matter?’

‘It does. It’s a kind of symbol.’

‘I think you’re talking nonsense, darling. There’s Pamela Grayling – her mother used to be a great friend of mine. Why not go about with her a bit more?’

Oh, Mother, she’s hopelessly dreary, not amusing a bit.’

‘Well, I think they’re all very nice girls.’

‘Yes, nice and deadly. And what does it matter what you think?’

‘That’s very rude, Barbara.’

‘Well, what I mean is, you don’t have to go about with them. So it’s what I think matters. I like Betty Earle and Primrose Deane but you always stick your nose in the air when I bring them to tea.’

‘Well, frankly, darling, they are rather dreadful – Betty’s father runs those awful charabanc tours and simply hasn’t got an h.’

‘He’s got lots of money, though.’

‘Money isn’t everything, Barbara.’

‘The whole point is, Mother, can I choose my own friends, or can’t I?’

‘Of course you can, Barbara, but you must let yourself be guided by me.

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