Eighteen

TEA INTERLUDE

Mrs. Lorrimer came out of a certain door in Harley Street.

She stood for a minute at the top of the steps, and then she descended¹ them slowly.

There was a curious expression on her face—a mingling² of grim determination and of strangeindecision. She bent³ her brows a little, as though to concentrate on some all-absorbing problem.

It was just then that she caught sight of Anne Meredith on the opposite pavement.

Anne was standing⁴ staring up at a big block of flats just on the corner.

Mrs. Lorrimer hesitated a moment, then she crossed the road.

“How do you do, Miss Meredith?”

Anne started and turned.

“Oh, how do you do?”

“Still in London?” said Mrs. Lorrimer.

“No. I’ve only come up for the day. To do some legal business.”

Her eyes were still straying to the big block of flats.

Mrs. Lorrimer said:

“Is anything the matter?”

Anne started guiltily.

“The matter? Oh, no, what should be the matter?”

“You were looking as though you had something on your mind.”

“I haven’t—well, at least I have, but it’s nothing important, something quite silly.” She laugheda little.

She went on:

“It’s only that I thought I saw my friend—the girl I live with—go in there, and I wondered ifshe’d gone to see Mrs. Oliver.”

“Is that where Mrs. Oliver lives? I didn’t know.”

“Yes. She came to see us the other day and she gave us her address and asked us to come andsee her. I wondered if it was Rhoda I saw or not.”

“Do you want to go up and see?”

“No, I’d rather not do that.”

“Come and have tea with me,” said Mrs. Lorrimer. “There is a shop quite near here that Iknow.”

“It’s very kind of you,” said Anne, hesitating.

Side by side they walked down the street and turned into a side street. In a small pastry⁵ cook’sthey were served with tea and muffins.

They did not talk much. Each of them seemed to find the other’s silence restful.

Anne asked suddenly:

“Has Mrs. Oliver been to see you?”

Mrs. Lorrimer shook her head.

“No one has been to see me except M. Poirot.”

“I didn’t mean—” began Anne.

“Didn’t you? I think you did,” said Mrs. Lorrimer.

The girl looked up—a quick, frightened glance. Something she saw in Mrs. Lorrimer’s faceseemed to reassure⁶ her.

“He hasn’t been to see me,” she said slowly.

There was a pause.

“Hasn’t Superintendent⁷ Battle been to see you?” asked Anne.

“Oh, yes, of course,” said Mrs. Lorrimer.

Anne said hesitatingly:

“What sort of things did he ask you?”

Mrs. Lorrimer sighed wearily.

“The usual things, I suppose. Routine inquiries⁸. He was very pleasant over it all.”

“I suppose he interviewed everyone?”

“I should think so.”

There was another pause.

Anne said:

“Mrs. Lorrimer, do you think—they will ever find out who did it?”

Her eyes were bent on her plate. She did not see the curious expression in the older woman’seyes as she watched the downcast head.

Mrs. Lorrimer said quietly:

“I don’t know….”

Anne murmured:

“It’s not—very nice, is it?”

There was that same curious appraising⁹ and yet sympathetic look on Mrs. Lorrimer’s face, asshe asked:

“How old are you, Anne Meredith?”

“I—I?” the girl stammered¹⁰. “I’m twenty-five.”

“And I’m sixty-three,” said Mrs. Lorrimer.

She went on slowly:

“Most of your life is in front of you….”

Anne shivered.

“I might be run over by a bus on the way home,” she said.

“Yes, that’s true. And I—might not.”

She said it in an odd way. Anne looked at her in astonishment¹¹.

“Life is a difficult business,” said Mrs. Lorrimer. “You’ll know that when you come to my age.

It needs infinite courage and a lot of endurance. And in the end one wonders: ‘Was itworthwhile?’”

“Oh, don’t,” said Anne.

Mrs. Lorrimer laughed, her old competent self again.

“It’s rather cheap to say gloomy things about life,” she said.

She called the waitress and settled the bill.

As they got to the shop door a taxi crawled past, and Mrs. Lorrimer hailed it.

“Can I give you a lift?” she asked. “I am going south of the park.”

Anne’s face had lighted up.

“No, thank you. I see my friend turning the corner. Thank you so much, Mrs. Lorrimer. Good-bye.”

“Good-bye. Good luck,” said the older woman.

She drove away and Anne hurried forward.

Rhoda’s face lit up when she saw her friend, then changed to a slightly guilty expression.

“Rhoda, have you been to see Mrs. Oliver?” demanded Anne.

“Well, as a matter of fact, I have.”

“And I just caught you.”

“I don’t know what you mean by caught. Let’s go down here and take a bus. You’d gone off onyour own ploys¹² with the boyfriend. I thought at least he’d give you tea.”

Anne was silent for a minute—a voice ringing in her ears.

“Can’t we pick up your friend somewhere and all have tea together?”

And her own answer—hurried, without taking time to think:

“Thanks awfully¹³, but we’ve got to go out to tea together with some people.”

A lie—and such a silly lie. The stupid way one said the first thing that came into one’s headinstead of just taking a minute or two to think. Perfectly¹⁴ easy to have said “Thanks, but my friendhas got to go out to tea.” That is, if you didn’t, as she hadn’t, wanted to have Rhoda too.

Rather odd, that, the way she hadn’t wanted Rhoda. She had wanted, definitely, to keep Despardto herself. She had felt jealous. Jealous of Rhoda. Rhoda was so bright, so ready to talk, so full ofenthusiasm and life. The other evening Major Despard had looked as though he thought Rhodanice. But it was her, Anne Meredith, he had come down to see. Rhoda was like that. She didn’tmean it, but she reduced you to the background. No, definitely she hadn’t wanted Rhoda there.

But she had managed it very stupidly, getting flurried like that. If she’d managed better, shemight be sitting now having tea with Major Despard at his club or somewhere.

She felt definitely annoyed with Rhoda. Rhoda was a nuisance. And what had she been doinggoing to see Mrs. Oliver?

Out loud she said:

“Why did you go and see Mrs. Oliver?”

“Well, she asked us to.”

“Yes, but I didn’t suppose she really meant it. I expect she always has to say that.”

“She did mean it. She was awfully nice—couldn’t have been nicer. She gave me one of herbooks. Look.”

Rhoda flourished her prize.

Anne said suspiciously:

“What did you talk about? Not me?”

“Listen to the conceit¹⁵ of the girl!”

“No, but did you? Did you talk about the—the murder?”

“We talked about her murders. She’s writing one where there’s poison in the sage¹⁶ and onions.

She was frightfully human—and said writing was awfully hard work and how she got into tangleswith plots, and we had black coffee and hot buttered toast,” finished Rhoda in a triumphant¹⁷ burst.

Then she added:

“Oh, Anne, you want your tea.”

“No, I don’t. I’ve had it. With Mrs. Lorrimer.”

“Mrs. Lorrimer? Isn’t that the one—the one who was there?”

Anne nodded.

“Where did you come across her? Did you go and see her?”

“No. I ran across her in Harley Street.”

“What was she like?”

Anne said slowly:

“I don’t know. She was—rather queer. Not at all like the other night.”

“Do you still think she did it?” asked Rhoda.

Anne was silent for a minute or two. Then she said:

“I don’t know. Don’t let’s talk of it, Rhoda! You know how I hate talking of things.”

“All right, darling. What was the solicitor¹⁸ like? Very dry and legal?”

“Rather alert and Jewish.”

“Sounds all right.” She waited a little and then said:

“How was Major Despard?”

“Very kind.”

“He’s fallen for you, Anne. I’m sure he has.”

“Rhoda, don’t talk nonsense.”

“Well, you’ll see.”

Rhoda began humming to herself. She thought:

“Of course he’s fallen for her. Anne’s awfully pretty. But a bit wishy-washy … She’ll never goon treks¹⁹ with him. Why, she’d scream if she saw a snake … Men always do take fancies tounsuitable women.”

Then she said aloud.

“That bus will take us to Paddington. We’ll just catch the 4:48.”

 

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