Spider’s Web. Agatha Christie
Читать онлайн книгу.
was nothing I could do about it. Henry flung himself at my feet, sobbing, but I was adamant. “I am fond of you, Henry,” I told him, “but I can’t live without Jeremy. This is goodbye.” Then I rushed out of the house and into the garden where you were waiting for me. As we ran down the garden path to the front gate, we heard a shot ring out in the house, but we went on running.’
‘Good heavens!’ Jeremy gasped. ‘Well, that was certainly telling him, wasn’t it? Poor Henry.’ He thought for a moment, and then continued, ‘But you say you’ve played it both ways. What happened the other time?’
‘Oh, Henry was so miserable, and pleaded so pitifully that I didn’t have the heart to leave him. I decided to give you up, and devote my life to making Henry happy.’
Jeremy now looked absolutely desolate. ‘Well, darling,’ he declared ruefully, ‘you certainly do have fun. But please, please be serious for a moment. I’m very serious when I say I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time. You must have realized that. Are you sure there’s no hope for me? Do you really want to spend the rest of your life with boring old Henry?’
Clarissa was spared from answering by the arrival of a thin, tallish child of twelve, wearing school uniform and carrying a satchel. She called out ‘Hello, Clarissa’ by way of greeting as she came into the room.
‘Hullo, Pippa,’ her stepmother replied. ‘You’re late.’
Pippa put her hat and satchel on an easy chair. ‘Music lesson,’ she explained, laconically.
‘Oh, yes,’ Clarissa remembered. ‘It’s your piano day, isn’t it? Was it interesting?’
‘No. Ghastly. Awful exercises I had to repeat and repeat. Miss Farrow said it was to improve my fingering. She wouldn’t let me play the nice solo piece I’d been practising. Is there any food about? I’m starving.’
Clarissa got to her feet. ‘Didn’t you get the usual buns to eat in the bus?’ she asked.
‘Oh yes,’ Pippa admitted, ‘but that was half an hour ago.’ She gave Clarissa a pleading look that was almost comical. ‘Can’t I have some cake or something to last me till supper?’
Taking her hand, Clarissa led Pippa to the hall door, laughing. ‘We’ll see what we can find,’ she promised. As they left, Pippa asked excitedly, ‘Is there any of that cake left—the one with the cherries on top?’
‘No,’ Clarissa told her. ‘You finished that off yesterday.’
Jeremy shook his head, smiling, as he heard their voices trailing away down the hall. As soon as they were out of earshot, he moved quickly to the desk and hurriedly opened one or two of the drawers. But suddenly hearing a hearty female voice calling from the garden, ‘Ahoy there!’, he gave a start, and hastily closed the drawers. He turned towards the French windows in time to see a big, jolly-looking woman of about forty, in tweeds and gumboots, opening the French windows. She paused as she saw Jeremy. Standing on the window step, she asked, brusquely, ‘Mrs Hailsham-Brown about?’
Jeremy moved casually away from the desk, and ambled across to the sofa as he replied, ‘Yes, Miss Peake. She’s just gone to the kitchen with Pippa to get her something to eat. You know what a ravenous appetite Pippa always has.’
‘Children shouldn’t eat between meals,’ was the response, delivered in ringing, almost masculine tones.
‘Will you come in, Miss Peake?’ Jeremy asked.
‘No, I won’t come in because of my boots,’ she explained, with a hearty laugh. ‘I’d bring half the garden with me if I did.’ Again she laughed. ‘I was just going to ask her what veggies she wanted for tomorrow’s lunch.’
‘Well, I’m afraid I—’ Jeremy began, when Miss Peake interrupted him. ‘Tell you what,’ she boomed, ‘I’ll come back.’
She began to go, but then turned back to Jeremy. ‘Oh, you will be careful of that desk, won’t you, Mr Warrender?’ she said, peremptorily.
‘Yes, of course I will,’ replied Jeremy.
‘It’s a valuable antique, you see,’ Miss Peake explained. ‘You really shouldn’t wrench the drawers out like that.’
Jeremy looked bemused. ‘I’m terribly sorry,’ he apologized. ‘I was only looking for notepaper.’
‘Middle pigeon-hole,’ Miss Peake barked, pointing at it as she spoke.
Jeremy turned to the desk, opened the middle pigeon-hole, and extracted a sheet of writing-paper.
‘That’s right,’ Miss Peake continued brusquely. ‘Curious how often people can’t see what’s right in front of their eyes.’ She chortled heartily as she strode away, back to the garden. Jeremy joined in her laughter, but stopped abruptly as soon as she had gone. He was about to return to the desk when Pippa came back munching a bun.
‘Hmm. Smashing bun,’ said Pippa with her mouth full, as she closed the door behind her and wiped her sticky fingers on her skirt.
‘Hello, there,’ Jeremy greeted her. ‘How was school today?’
‘Pretty foul,’ Pippa responded cheerfully as she put what was left of the bun on the table. ‘It was World Affairs today.’ She opened her satchel. ‘Miss Wilkinson loves World Affairs. But she’s terribly wet. She can’t keep the class in order.’
As Pippa took a book out of her satchel, Jeremy asked her, ‘What’s your favourite subject?’
‘Biology,’ was Pippa’s immediate and enthusiastic answer. ‘It’s heaven. Yesterday we dissected a frog’s leg.’ She pushed her book in his face. ‘Look what I got at the second-hand bookstall. It’s awfully rare, I’m sure. Over a hundred years old.’
‘What is it, exactly?’
‘It’s a kind of recipe book,’ Pippa explained. She opened the book. ‘It’s thrilling, absolutely thrilling.’
‘But what’s it all about?’ Jeremy wanted to know.
Pippa was already enthralled by her book. ‘What?’ she murmured as she turned its pages.
‘It certainly seems very absorbing,’ he observed.
‘What?’ Pippa repeated, still engrossed in the book. To herself she murmured, ‘Gosh!’ as she turned another page.
‘Evidently a good tuppenny-worth,’ Jeremy commented, and picked up a newspaper.
Apparently puzzled by what she was reading in the book, Pippa asked him, ‘What’s the difference between a wax candle and a tallow candle?’
Jeremy considered for a moment before replying. ‘I should imagine that a tallow candle is markedly inferior,’ he said. ‘But surely you can’t eat it? What a strange recipe book.’
Much amused, Pippa got to her feet. ‘“Can you eat it?”’ she declaimed. ‘Sounds like “Twenty Questions”.’ She laughed, threw the book onto the easy chair, and fetched a pack of cards from the book-case. ‘Do you know how to play Demon Patience?’ she asked.
By now Jeremy was totally occupied with his newspaper. ‘Um’ was his only response.
Pippa tried again to engage his attention. ‘I suppose you wouldn’t like to play Beggar-my-neighbour?’
‘No,’ Jeremy replied firmly. He replaced the newspaper on the stool, then sat at the desk and addressed an envelope.
‘No, I thought you probably wouldn’t,’ Pippa murmured wistfully. Kneeling on the floor in the middle of the room, she spread out her cards and began to play Demon Patience. ‘I wish we could have a fine day for a change,’ she complained. ‘It’s such