Towards Zero. Агата Кристи
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tennis together. They had been not only friends but allies.
Young Merrick was serving from the left-hand court. Nevile’s return was unplayable, a superb shot to the extreme corner.
‘Nevile’s backhand is good,’ said Ted. ‘It’s better than his forehand. Merrick’s weak on the backhand and Nevile knows it. He’s going to pound at it all he knows how.’
The game ended. ‘Four three—Strange leads.’
He took the next game on his service. Young Merrick was hitting out wildly.
‘Five three.’
‘Good for Nevile,’ said Latimer.
And then the boy pulled himself together. His play became cautious. He varied the pace of his shots.
‘He’s got a head on him,’ said Ted. ‘And his footwork is first-class. It’s going to be a fight.’
Slowly the boy pulled up to five all. They went to seven all, and Merrick finally won the match at nine seven.
Nevile came up to the net, grinning and shaking his head ruefully, to shake hands.
‘Youth tells,’ said Ted Latimer. ‘Nineteen against thirtythree. But I can tell you the reason, Kay, why Nevile has never been actual championship class. He’s too good a loser.’
‘Nonsense.’
‘It isn’t. Nevile, blast him, is always the complete good sportsman. I’ve never seen him lose his temper over losing a match.’
‘Of course not,’ said Kay. ‘People don’t.’
‘Oh yes, they do! We’ve all seen them. Tennis stars who give way to nerves—and who damn’ well snatch every advantage. But old Nevile—he’s always ready to take the count and grin. Let the best man win and all that. God, how I hate the public school spirit! Thank the Lord I never went to one.’
Kay turned her head.
‘Being rather spiteful, aren’t you?’
‘Positively feline!’
‘I wish you wouldn’t make it so clear you don’t like Nevile.’
‘Why should I like him? He pinched my girl.’
His eyes lingered on her.
‘I wasn’t your girl. Circumstances forbade.’
‘Quite so. Not even the proverbial tuppence a year between us.’
‘Shut up. I fell in love with Nevile and married him—’
‘And he’s a jolly good fellow—and so say all of us!’
‘Are you trying to annoy me?’
She turned her head as she asked the question. He smiled—and presently she returned his smile.
‘How’s the summer going, Kay?’
‘So, so. Lovely yachting trip. I’m rather tired of all this tennis business.’
‘How long have you got of it? Another month?’
‘Yes. Then in September we go to Gull’s Point for a fortnight.’
‘I shall be at the Easterhead Bay Hotel,’ said Ted. ‘I’ve booked my room.’
‘It’s going to be a lovely party!’ said Kay. ‘Nevile and I, and Nevile’s Ex, and some Malayan planter who’s home on leave.’
‘That does sound hilarious!’
‘And the dowdy cousin, of course. Slaving away round that unpleasant old woman—and she won’t get anything for it, either, since the money comes to me and Nevile.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Ted, ‘she doesn’t know that?’
‘That would be rather funny,’ said Kay.
But she spoke absently. She stared down at the racquet she was twiddling in her hands. She caught her breath suddenly.
‘Oh Ted!’
‘What’s the matter, sugar?’
‘I don’t know. It’s just sometimes I get—I get cold feet! I get scared and feel queer.’
‘That doesn’t sound like you, Kay.’
‘It doesn’t, does it? Anyway,’ she smiled rather uncertainly, ‘you’ll be at the Easterhead Bay Hotel.’
‘All according to plan.’
When Kay met Nevile outside the changing rooms, he said:
‘I see the boy friend’s arrived.’
‘Ted?’
‘Yes, the faithful dog—or faithful lizard might be more apt.’
‘You don’t like him, do you?’
‘Oh, I don’t mind him. If it amuses you to pull him around on a string—’
He shrugged his shoulders.
Kay said:
‘I believe you’re jealous.’
‘Of Latimer?’ His surprise was genuine.
Kay said:
‘Ted’s supposed to be very attractive.’
‘I’m sure he is. He has that lithe South American charm.’
‘You are jealous.’
Nevile gave her arm a friendly squeeze.
‘No, I’m not, Gorgeous. You can have your tame adorers—a whole court of them if you like. I’m the man in possession, and possession is nine points of the law.’
‘You’re very sure of yourself,’ said Kay with a slight pout.
‘Of course. You and I are Fate. Fate let us meet. Fate brought us together. Do you remember when we met at Cannes and I was going on to Estoril and suddenly, when I got there, the first person I met was lovely Kay! I knew then that it was Fate—and that I couldn’t escape.’
‘It wasn’t exactly Fate,’ Kay said. ‘It was me!’
‘What do you mean by “it was me”?’
‘Because it was! You see, I heard you say at Cannes you were going to Estoril, so I set to work on Mums and got her all worked up—and that’s why the first person you saw when you got there was Kay.’
Nevile looked at her with a rather curious expression. He said slowly: ‘You never told me that before.’
‘No, because it wouldn’t have been good for you. It might have made you conceited! But I always have been good at planning. Things don’t happen unless you make them! You call me a nitwit sometimes—but in my own way I’m quite clever. I make things happen. Sometimes I have to plan a long way beforehand.’
‘The brainwork must be intense.’
‘It’s all very well to laugh.’
Nevile said with a sudden curious bitterness:
‘Am I just beginning to understand the woman I’ve married? For Fate—read Kay!’
Kay said:
‘You’re not cross, are you, Nevile?’
He said rather absently:
‘No—no, of course not. I was just—thinking …’
August 10th
Lord Cornelly, that rich and eccentric