‘Let’s have a look, shall we?’ said the lady, lifting up the counter and then kneeling down for a closer inspection.
‘A quiet day for you?’ asked Una.
‘Yes, thank goodness. I’ve been rushed off my feet these last couple of weeks. Trying to get the ladies ready for Christmas. Only a few weeks away now.’
‘Yes, it is a terribly busy time of year for all of us.’
‘Are you from around here?’
‘No, I’m just up from London visiting friends for a few days, and today, just as I was leaving, I would go and trip over one of their blasted Labradors.’
‘Never mind, I’m sure we can mend it. It’s beautifully made.’
‘Oh yes, I picked it up in Paris the last time I was there.’
‘Jean Patou?’
‘Chanel,’ replied Una. ‘I don’t know whether you can do it so it looks natural. What do I mean? Oh yes, invisible mending.’
‘There is an elderly lady we use who did spend some time in the French ateliers. Wonderful little hands, she has. But I am afraid you would have to leave it with us.’
‘Oh, I see. I haven’t got anything else really very suitable, apart from a white-lace evening dress, hardly appropriate for daytime. There’s nothing you could do now?’
‘Well, I could try and patch it myself, but I’m afraid I couldn’t guarantee that the stitches would be invisible.’
‘I see,’ said Una, frowning. ‘My friends have left for London already so I can’t borrow anything from them. But I’m sure there is a friend of my cousin who lives near here. I’m sure you won’t know her. A Miss Neele?’
‘Nancy Neele? Oh, yes, Miss Neele is a regular customer.’
‘The blasted thing is I’ve left my address book in London. I don’t suppose you have her address to hand?’
‘Let’s see,’ said the dressmaker, standing up. She walked behind the counter and opened up the lid of a wooden card index. ‘Neele. Here we are. Yes, Miss Neele lives in Croxley Green. With her parents, I believe.’
‘Of course. Do you know the name of the house?’
‘Rheola.’
‘Yes, what a strange name. Sounds Welsh to me. Are the family Welsh?’
‘No, as far as I know. Her father, I think, is from Hampstead.’
‘How curious. Anyway, that is splendid. What I will do is call in and see if she can lend me something. Then I will come back and drop in the skirt.’
‘So you will be spending a few more days in the area?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘You won’t be going back to London?’
‘Yes, that’s right. I intend to visit some more friends in the country.’
‘And please give my best regards to Miss Neele,’ said the woman. ‘She’s a lovely girl, isn’t she?’
‘Yes, simply gorgeous.’
‘And those twin brothers of hers, what are they called?’
‘Oh, I’ve never met them, I’m afraid. I hardly know her, to be honest.’
‘And the friends of yours in the country – where are they?’ The dressmaker’s chattiness – natural in someone of her profession – was becoming more like an interrogation.
‘Oh, out in the sticks somewhere,’ said Una, trying to sound deliberately vague. ‘The country – it’s like the universe, don’t you find? Simply stretches on and on.’
‘And it’s too far for you to call on them for assistance?’ Una did not like the tone of the woman’s voice.
‘Oh, them, oh no. My friends’ sisters Juliet and Baba have simply the worst possible dress sense. If I put myself in their hands I’d look like an old dowager duchess from the last century.’
This made the dressmaker smile and any trace of suspicion melted away. ‘Well, good luck. And just call in again when you are ready.’
‘Thank you, goodbye.’
Una breathed a great sigh of relief when she left the shop. She hadn’t been prepared for the Spanish Inquisition, but she thought she had performed quite well under the circumstances. Back in the car she studied the road map once more and plotted her route to Croxley Green. She still had not thought of a way of getting inside the Neele household apart from stealing through the back door like a common burglar. She took out her mother-of-pearl compact from her handbag and studied her reflection in the mirrored surface. She was, she thought, getting quite good at this lying game. She applied a spot of lipstick and a sheen of powder before setting off for Croxley Green, just outside Rickmans worth. She passed the village green with its quaint windmill and drove around the village straining her neck in search of the house. She drove by a number of large Victorian and Edwardian houses that, as far as she could see, did not seem to bear any names – that or their identities had been covered by the vigorous growth of laurel bushes or yew trees. As she turned a corner she spotted a postman and she slammed on the brakes.
‘Excuse me, excuse me,’ shouted Una as she wound down her window.
The man touched his hat. ‘How can I help you, miss?’
‘I’m looking for the Neele house. Rheola, is that what it’s called?’
‘Indeed it is. Let’s see – if you take the second left and then the first right you should see the house straight in front of you.’
She followed the postman’s directions which, as promised, led her to the front of the house. She turned off the engine and as she did so she noticed that her fingers were shaking. She ran her tongue over her dry lips, stepped out of the car and walked up the driveway. She paused for a moment before she rang the bell. The door opened and a maid said, ‘Can I help you, ma’am?’
‘Yes, I’m here to see Miss Neele. Is she at home?’
‘Can I say who is calling?’ asked the maid, her eyes hardening.
‘Yes. Can you say it’s Clara Miller. I’m a cousin of Mrs Christie’s.’
The girl blinked, uncertain what to do or say, but Una’s smile seemed to help calm her nerves a little.
‘I’ll see if she is receiving visitors today. Would you mind waiting?’
‘No, not at all.’
‘This way, please.’
The girl showed Una into a glasshouse that was crowded with exotic pot plants, ferns with unruly tendrils, and succulents with sharp green and red spikes that rose into the air like sinister, blood-tipped daggers. The air seemed clouded as if someone had recently sprayed the room with a fine warm mist. As she waited, Una dug the nails of her right hand into the palm of her left. Would she have the nerve to go through with this? She felt a bead of sweat break out on her forehead. She loosened the collar of her coat. From one of the rooms at the back of the house, perhaps a kitchen or a scullery, Una heard some frenzied whispering – a suppressed argument between two women – followed by the words, ‘Very well, I’ll deal with her.’ A moment later, a striking, dark-haired young woman entered the glasshouse. Her eyes were black and full of resentments and unspoken accusations.
‘How may I help?’ she said flatly.
‘Miss Neele?’
‘Yes.’
‘I know this must be terribly awkward for you.’ Una could still hear the sound of the servants talking through one of the doors. ‘Is there anywhere we could talk? In private?’
Una smiled, but the smile froze on her lips when Miss Neele replied, ‘I think whatever you have to say can be said here.’
‘Very well,’ said Una, clearing her throat. ‘As you know, Mrs Christie has disappeared. And as a family we are all, quite naturally, worried about her welfare.’
The comment was met with a look of indifference bordering on disdain.
‘I just wondered if there was anything at all you knew that might help. The sooner we find her the sooner we can clear up this mess. It’s been terribly stressful for all of us, as you can imagine. Thank goodness Cousin Agatha’s mother passed away some months back.’
‘I would have thought that was part of the problem,’ answered Nancy.
‘Excuse me?’
‘Archie – the Colonel –
has always insisted that Mrs Christie has never been the same since her mother’s death,’ said Nancy.
‘Perhaps, but I am sure there are other factors involved, don’t you think?’
Una observed Miss Neele wince slightly as if she were trying to suppress a cry of pain.
‘I’m afraid I can’t see how I can help you. I only know the couple on a very superficial level. So I am afraid you will have to excuse me, Miss—’
‘Miss Miller.’
‘I really am terribly busy, but I thank you for your visit.’
As Nancy started to turn from her, Una felt the opportunity slipping away. She would have to say something.
‘As I am sure you are aware, the situation is very delicate. I know the newspapers have been camping outside the family home. Awful beasts, these journalists, don’t you find? I mean imagine if they got hold of a piece of evidence that really showed things how they were.’
Nancy remained fixed to the spot. She turned her head and looked at Una.
‘What exactly do you mean?’
‘Oh, there is so much gossip and nonsense printed in the press. But I suppose often these silly journalists have to resort to making things up because they don’t have the hard evidence to back up their stories. Now, if they did have something certain to go on, showing Mrs Christie’s state of mind and the reason behind her disappearance, well that might be exactly what they were looking for.’
Una opened her handbag and pulled out the letter she had taken from Agatha’s desk.
‘What is that?’
‘This? Oh, it’s a letter written by Madge – Margaret, Mrs Christie’s sister, I am sure you know – describing the situation and offering advice about how best to proceed.’
Miss Neele took a step closer to her.
‘It makes for fascinating reading because it is, how shall I put it, extraordinarily intimate. Oh, you know what sisters are like. Do you have any?’
‘No, no sisters. Only brothers, twins.’
‘Well, if you had had a sister you would know the kind of thing. Affairs of the heart.’
‘I see,’ said Miss Neele, suddenly alert to the fact she was discussing a private matter within earshot of the servants. ‘I’m sorry, I should have asked you into the sitting room. Please, follow me.’
As soon as she walked out of the glasshouse Una felt she could breathe once more.
‘You’ve got an extraordinary collection of plants,’ said Una, trying to make the atmosphere a little less tense between them.
‘Oh yes, my mother’s little hobby,’ said Miss Neele as she led the way through the house to the sitting room. ‘She has some peculiar specimens. She has one that lives off flies, can you imagine? Just ingests them, dissolves them, if you see what I mean.’
The attempt at small talk had done nothing to soothe the tension in the air. If anything it had only left Una feeling even more uncomfortable. Miss Neele showed her into a dark green sitting room and quietly shut the door.
‘Would you like to sit down?’
‘Yes, thank you.’
Una took her seat on a black velvet sofa, Miss Neele choosing to sit opposite her in a high-backed brown leather chair.
‘And you were saying?’ said Miss Neele, glancing at the letter that Una still held in her hand.
‘Oh yes, this. Well, what I’m looking for is some answers so the family can find Agatha. The police seem to be convinced she is dead, which is ridiculous. We’ve appealed to the Colonel, but like many men in this situation he seems to have turned in on himself rather. I hoped that you might be able to help.’
‘I see. And there is no question of going to the newspapers?’ The dark-haired woman suddenly looked like a bewildered, frightened little girl.
‘Oh no, don’t worry about that. It’s just information – that is all we’re looking for. Information that we can use to good effect to finally bring this sorry saga to a close.’
‘Very well. I probably don’t know a great deal, but anything I do know I am willing to share with you.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Obviously you know about the Colonel and me. Please don’t think badly of me. I’m not the kind of woman you think I am. You see, Archie and I are in love and we do intend to get married. We hoped that Mrs Christie would see sense and let the Colonel go. We, well, Archie knew that his wife could be a little – well, he knew that she had a vivid imagination – but neither of us expected this, not this scandal. My parents are furious, as you can imagine. They are on the point of sending me away. It means that Archie and I will be separated for a while, but I only hope that when this has all blown over I can return and we can be together at last.’
Una saw the tears begin to form in Miss Neele’s dark eyes. She stood up and walked over to the chair and offered the girl a freshly starched handkerchief from her handbag.
‘Thank you,’ said Nancy. Una watched as Nancy, through her tears, focused on the corner of the handkerchief, which had a set of small initials embroidered in light blue cotton.
‘ “U.C.” Who is that?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘These initials here. Who do they belong to?’
Una realised her mistake immediately, but tried to make light of it.
‘Oh, that’s one of my friends I was staying with in the country this weekend. Darling girl, Unity Crawford. Do you know the Crawfords? They are all mad as hatters, the lot of them.’
‘No, I don’t believe I do. Please, you must think I’m terribly silly. I have been trying to keep everything in. But all this – this nonsense – has really been too much. And now it looks like I am going to have to leave the country for a while.’
‘I know. And I’m sorry to have to force my way in like this,’ said Una. ‘You must think me extremely ill-mannered.’
‘Well, I must admit when I first saw you I did think it a bit rich.’
As the two women laughed Nancy finally wiped away the last of her tears.
‘But, honestly, I really don’t see how much more I can help you. Archie knew nothing of this beforehand. Of course, he thought Agatha was even more anxious than normal – he told me that they had a row on that Friday morning. But there was no indication that she would behave like this.’
‘And what do you think has happened?’
‘Well, my theory, which Archie simply cannot understand, is that she probably disappeared so as to get her petty revenge on him. She wants to make him suffer. To make him feel a little of the pain that she is going through. I can sympathise to a degree. But to go so far as to involve the police? And now I’ve heard that this stupid man who is heading the investigation – what’s he called?’
‘Superintendent William Kenward, Deputy Chief Constable.’
‘Yes, that’s the fellow. There are rumours flying around that he suspects Archie of murder. Can you imagine? It’s just outrageous.’
‘Awful,’ said Una sitting back down on the sofa. ‘So you’ve got no idea where Mrs Christie might have gone?’
‘No, none at all, I’m afraid. But I am convinced she is not dead. She’s probably having a whale of a time somewhere enjoying watching Archie squirm.’
‘Well, I’m not sure about that,’ said Una. ‘I can’t imagine she is enjoying this any more than the rest of us.’
‘Perhaps not.’
‘And the Colonel? He hasn’t told you anything that might lead you to suspect where she is?’
‘No, I mean we all know how much she was attached to Ashfield, the house where she lived when she was a girl. But apparently there has been no trace of her down in Torquay. But surely you must know that?’
‘Yes, of course.’ Una looked down at the letter. ‘Can I ask, does anybody else know about your relationship with the Colonel?’
A flash of fire returned to Miss Neele’s eyes. ‘Well, just our dear friends, Mr and Mrs Sam James, with whom we stayed on Friday night. Or I should say with whom we were supposed to be staying until Archie got that blasted telephone
call on Saturday morning. Since then it’s been absolute hell.’
‘Your parents?’
‘Well, yes, of course. They knew Archie and I were good friends, but they didn’t realise the true nature of our friendship until a few days ago. It’s been hell for them too.’
‘Yes, I can imagine. But none of your other friends?’
‘No, I have tried to keep it secret. Not out of any sense of guilt – even though I know it looks bad, and most probably is bad, but you must believe me, the Colonel’s intentions were – are – truly honourable.’
‘Yes, I believe you. And no one else?’
‘No, no one, apart from my doctor. I have been suffering from an attack of nerves for the last couple of months. I went to the doctor one day and simply broke down. I had to tell him everything. He could see what a mess I was in. He has been the greatest support. I really could not have lived through this if it hadn’t been for Dr Kurs.’
Her train of thought was interrupted by the sound of the telephone in the hall. The two women listened as a servant lifted the receiver. A moment later the door opened.
‘Excuse me, ma’am. There is a telephone call for you.’
‘Davies, can’t you see I am having a private conversation?’
‘I’m ever so sorry, ma’am. But the lady says it is most urgent.’
‘Who is it?’
‘Mrs Peabody, ma’am. The lady from the dress shop in Rickmansworth.’
Una felt nauseous and weak. If she had not been sitting down, she thought, her legs might have collapsed beneath her.
‘What can she want? I was only in her shop the other day. Surely it can’t be that important?’
‘I’m sorry, ma’am. I did say you were busy, but she said that it was of the highest importance. She asked about the lady’s skirt. Something about it being ripped. I don’t know what she was talking about.’
‘How ridiculous. Sorry, Miss Miller, would you excuse me for a moment?’
Una watched as Miss Neele rose from the chair and her eyes settled on the piece of loose thread hanging from her skirt.
‘I’m sorry, I’ve taken up more of your time than I should have,’ said Una, trying to keep the growing sense of panic from her voice. ‘Thank you so much. And let’s hope life gets back to normal soon.’
A Talent For Murder Page 13