"And the Cherry Pie on the walls?" suggested Miss Marple, remembering a remark.
"Fancy your remembering that. Yes. Yes, it's one of the things one does remember. Such a charming smell, heliotrope. And such a nice name for it, Cherry Pie. One always remembers that. And the grapevine. The little, small, early sweet grapes. Ah well, one must not remember the past too much."
"And the flower borders too, I suppose," said Miss Marple.
"Yes. Yes, Anthea would like to have a big well kept herbaceous border again. Really not feasible now. It is as much as one can do to get local people who will come and mow the lawns every fortnight. Every year one seems to employ a different firm. And Anthea would like pampas grass planted again. And the Mrs Simpkin pinks. White, you know. All along the stone edge border. And a fig tree that grew just outside the greenhouse. She remembers all these and talks about them."
"It must be difficult for you."
"Well, yes. Arguments, you see, hardly appeal in any way. Clotilde, of course, is very downright about things. She just refuses point-blank and says she doesn't want to hear another word about it."
"It is difficult," said Miss Marple, "to know how to take things. Whether one should be firm. Rather authoritative. Perhaps, even, well, just a little… a little fierce, you know, or whether one should be sympathetic. Listen to things and perhaps hold out hopes which one knows are not justified. Yes, it's difficult."
"But it's easier for me because you see I go away again, and then come back now and then to stay. So it's easy for me to pretend things may be easier soon and that something may be done. But really, the other day when I came home and I found that Anthea had tried to engage a most expensive firm of landscape gardeners to renovate the garden, to build up the greenhouse again – which is quite absurd because even if you put vines in they would not bear for another two or three years. Clotilde knew nothing about it and she was extremely angry when she discovered the estimate for this work on Anthea's desk. She was really quite unkind."
"So many things are difficult," said Miss Marple.
It was a useful phrase which she used often.
"I shall have to go rather early tomorrow morning, I think," said Miss Marple. "I was making enquiries at the Golden Boar where I understand the coach party assembles tomorrow morning. They are making quite an early start. Nine o'clock, I understand."
"Oh dear. I hope you will not find it too fatiguing."
"Oh, I don't think so. I gather we are going to a place called – now wait a minute, what was it called? Stirling St Mary. Something like that. And it does not seem to be very far away. There's an interesting church to see on the way and a castle. In the afternoon there is a quite pleasant garden, not too many acres, but some special flowers. I feel sure that after this very nice rest that I have had here, I shall be quite all right. I understand now that I would have been very tired if I had had these two days of climbing up cliffsides and all the rest of it."
"Well, you must rest this afternoon, so as to be fresh for tomorrow," said Mrs Glynne, as they went into the house. "Miss Marple has been to visit the church," said Mrs Glynne to Clotilde.
"I'm afraid there is not very much to see," said Clotilde. "Victorian glass of a most hideous kind, I think myself. No expense spared. I'm afraid my uncle was partly to blame. He was very pleased with those rather crude reds and blues."
"Very crude. Very vulgar, I always think," said Lavinia Glynne.
Miss Marple settled down after lunch to have a nap, and she did not join her hostesses until nearly dinner time. After dinner a good deal of chat went on until it was bedtime. Miss Marple set the tone in remembrances… Remembrances of her own youth, her early days, places she had visited, travels or tours she had made, occasional people she had known.
She went to bed tired, with a sense of failure. She had learned nothing more, possibly because there was nothing more to learn. A fishing expedition where the fish did not rise possibly because there were no fish there. Or it could be that she did not know the right bait to use?
Chapter 11
ACCIDENT
Miss Marple's tea was brought at seven-thirty the following morning so as to allow her plenty of time to get up and pack her few belongings. She was just closing her small suitcase when there was a rather hurried tap on the door and Clotilde came in, looking upset.
"Oh dear, Miss Marple, there is a young man downstairs who has called to see you. Emlyn Price. He is on the tour with you and they sent him here."
"Of course, I remember him. Yes. Quite young?"
"Oh yes. Very modern-looking, and a lot of hair and all that, but he has really come to – well, to break some bad news to you. There has been, I am sorry to say, an accident."
"An accident?" Miss Marple stared. "You mean – to the coach? There has been an accident on the road? Someone has been hurt?"
"No. No, it was not the coach. There was no trouble there. It was in the course of the expedition yesterday afternoon. There was a great deal of wind you may remember, though I don't think that had anything to do with it. People strayed about a bit, I think. There is a regular path, but you can also climb up and go across the downs. Both ways lead to the Memorial Tower on the top of Bonaventure where they were all making for. People got separated a bit and I suppose, really, there was no one actually guiding them or looking after them which, perhaps, there ought to have been. People aren't very sure-footed always and the slope overhanging the gorge is very steep. There was a bad fall of stones or rocks which came crashing down the hillside and knocked someone out on the path below."
"Oh dear," said Miss Marple, "I am sorry. I am most terribly sorry. Who was it who was hurt?"
"A Miss Temple or Tenderdon, I understand."
"Elizabeth Temple," said Miss Marple. "Oh dear, I am sorry. I talked to her a good deal. I sat in the next seat to her on the coach. She is, I believe, a retired schoolmistress, a very well known one."
"Of course," said Clotilde, "I know her quite well. She was Headmistress of Fallowfield, quite a famous school. I'd no idea she was on this tour. She retired as Headmistress, I think a year or two ago, and there is a new, rather young Headmistress there now with rather advanced progressive ideas. But Miss Temple is not very old, really, she's about sixty, I should think, and very active, fond of climbing and walking and all the rest of it. This really seems most unfortunate. I hope she's not badly hurt. I haven't heard any details yet."
"This is quite ready now," said Miss Marple, snapping down the lid of her suitcase. "I will come down at once and see Mr Price."
Clotilde seized the suitcase.
"Let me. I can carry this perfectly. Come down with me, and be careful of the stairs."
Miss Marple came down. Emlyn Price was waiting for her. His hair was looking even wilder than usual and he was wearing a splendid array of fancy boots and a leather jerkin and brilliant emerald green trousers.
"Such an unfortunate business," he said, seizing Miss Marple's hand. "I thought I'd come along myself and – well, break it to you about the accident. I expect Miss Bradbury-Scott has told you. It's Miss Temple. You know. The school dame. I don't know quite what she was doing or what happened, but some stones, or rather boulders, rolled down from above. It's rather a precipitous slope and it knocked her out and they had to take her off to hospital with concussion last night. I gather she's rather bad. Anyway, the tour for today is cancelled and we are stopping on here tonight."
"Oh dear," said Miss Marple, "I am sorry. I'm very sorry."
"I think they've decided not to go on today because they really have to wait and see what the medical report is, so we are proposing to spend one more night here at the Golden Boar and to rearrange the tour a little, so that perhaps we shall miss out altogether going to Grangmering which we were going to do tomorrow, and which is not very interesting really, or so they say. Mrs Sandbourne has gone off early to the hospital to see how things are this morning. She's going to join us at the Golden Boar for coffee at 11 o'clock. I thou
ght perhaps you'd like to come along and hear the latest news."
"I'll certainly come along with you," said Miss Marple. "Of course. At once."
She turned to say goodbye to Clotilde and Mrs Glynne who had joined her.
"I must thank you so much," she said. "You have been so kind and it has been so delightful to have these two nights here. I feel so rested and everything. Most unfortunate this has occurred."
"If you would like to spend another night," said Mrs Glynne, "I am sure -" She looked at Clotilde.
It occurred to Miss Marple, who had as sharp a sideways glance as anyone could desire, that Clotilde had a slightly disapproving look. She almost shook her head, though it was such a small movement that it was hardly noticeable. But she was, Miss Marple thought, hushing down the suggestion that Mrs Glynne was making.
"… although of course I expect it would be nicer for you to be with the others and to -"
"Oh yes, I think it would be better," said Miss Marple. "I shall know then what the plans are and what to do about things, and perhaps I could be of help in some way. One never knows. So thank you again very much. It will not be difficult, I expect, to get a room at the Golden Boar." She looked at Emlyn, who said reassuringly,
"That'll be all right. Several rooms have been vacated today. They won't be full at all. Mrs Sandbourne, I think, has booked for all the party to stay there tonight, and tomorrow we shall see – well, we shall see how this all goes on."
Good-byes were said again and thanks.
Emlyn Price took Miss Marple's belongings and started out at a good striding pace.
"It's really only just round the corner, and then the first street to the left," he said.
"Yes, I passed it yesterday, I think. Poor Miss Temple. I do hope she's not badly hurt."
"I think she is rather," said Emlyn Price. "Of course, you know what doctors are, and hospital people. They say the same 'We must not give up hope.' There's no local hospital, they had to take her to Carristown which is about eight miles away. Anyway, Mrs Sandbourne will be back with the news by the time we've fixed you up at the hotel."
They got there to find the tour assembled in the coffee room and coffee and morning buns and pastries were being served. Mr and Mrs Butler were talking at the moment.
"Oh, it's just too, too tragic this happening," said Mrs Butler. "Just too upsetting, isn't it? Just when we were all so happy and enjoying everything so much. Poor Miss Temple. And I always thought she was very sure-footed. But there, you know, you never can tell, can you, Henry?"
"No, indeed," said Henry. "No, indeed. I am wondering really – yes, our time's very short – you know – whether we hadn't better – well, give up this tour at this point here. Not continue with it. It seems to me there's bound to be a bit of difficulty resuming things until we know definitely. If this was, well I mean, if this should be so serious that it could prove fatal, there might well I mean there might have to be an inquest or something of that kind."
"Oh Henry, don't say dreadful things like that!"
"I'm sure," said Miss Cooke, "that you are being a little too pessimistic, Mr Butler. I am sure that things couldn't be as serious as that."
In his foreign voice Mr Caspar said:
"But yes, they are serious. I hear yesterday. When Mrs Sandbourne talk on telephone to doctor. It is very, very serious. They say she has concussion bad – very bad. A special doctor he is coming to look at her and see if he can operate or if impossible. Yes – it is all very bad."
"Oh dear," said Miss Lumley. "If there's any doubt, perhaps we ought to go home, Mildred. I must look up the trains, I think." She turned to Mrs Butler. "You see, I have made arrangements about my cats with the neighbours, and if I was delayed a day or two it might make great difficulties for everyone."
"Well, it's no good our working ourselves up too much," said Mrs Riseley-Porter, in her deep, authoritative voice. "Joanna, put this bun in the wastepaper basket, will you? It is really quite uneatable. Most unpleasant jam. But I don't want to leave it on my plate. It might make for bad feeling."
Joanna got rid of the bun. She said:
"Do you think it would be all right if Emlyn and I went out for a walk? I mean, just saw something of the town. It's not much good our sitting about here, making gloomy remarks, is it? We can't do anything."
"I think you'd be very wise to go out," said Miss Cooke.
"Yes, you go along," said Miss Barrow before Mrs Riseley-Porter could speak.
Miss Cooke and Miss Barrow looked at each other and sighed, shaking their heads.
"The grass was very slippery," said Miss Barrow. "I slid once or twice myself, you know, on that very short turf."
"And the stones, too," said Miss Cooke. "Quite a shower of small stones fell down just as I was turning a corner on the path. Yes, one struck me on the shoulder quite sharply."
Tea, coffee, biscuits and cakes despatched, everyone seemed somewhat dissociated and ill at ease. When a catastrophe has occurred, it is very difficult to know what is the proper way to meet it. Everyone had given their view, had expressed surprise and distress.
They were now awaiting news and at the same time had a slight hankering after some form of sightseeing, some interest to carry them through the morning. Lunch would not be served until one o'clock and they really felt that to sit around and repeat their same remarks would be rather a gloomy business.
Miss Cooke and Miss Barrow rose as one woman and explained that it was necessary for them to do a little shopping. One or two things they needed, and they also wished to go to the post office and buy stamps.
"I want to send off one or two postcards. And I want to enquire about postal dues on a letter to China," said Miss Barrow.
"And I want to match some wools," said Miss Cooke. "And also it seemed to me there was rather an interesting building on the other side of the Market Square."
"I think it would do us all good to get out," said Miss Barrow.
Colonel and Mrs Walker also rose, and suggested to Mr and Mrs Butler that they too might go out and see what there was to see. Mrs Butler expressed hopes of an antique shop.
"Only I don't really mean a real antique shop. More what you would call a junk shop. Sometimes you can pick up some really interesting things there."
They all trooped out. Emlyn Price had already sidled to the door and disappeared in pursuit of Joanna without troubling to use conversation to explain his departure.
Mrs Riseley-Porter, having made a belated attempt to call her niece back, said she thought that at least the lounge would be rather more pleasant to sit in. Miss Lumley agreed. Mr Caspar escorted the ladies with the air of a foreign dignatary.
Professor Wanstead and Miss Marple remained.
"I think myself," said Professor Wanstead, addressing Miss Marple, "that it would be pleasant to sit outside the hotel. There is a small terrace giving on the street. If I might persuade you?"
Miss Marple thanked him and rose to her feet. She had hardly exchanged a word so far with Professor Wanstead. He had several learned looking books with him, one of which he was usually perusing, even in the coach he continued to try and read.
"But perhaps you too want to shop," he said. "For myself, I would prefer to wait somewhere peacefully for the return of Mrs Sandbourne. It is important, I think, that we should know exactly what we are in for."
"I quite agree with you, as to that," said Miss Marple. "I did a certain amount of walking round the town yesterday and I don't feel any necessity to do so again today. I'd rather wait here in case there is anything I can do to help. Not that I suppose there is, but one never knows."
They moved together through the hotel door and round the corner to where there was a little square of garden with a raised stone walk close to the wall of the hotel and on which there were various forms of basket chairs. There was no one there at the moment so they sat down. Miss Marple looked thoughtfully at her vis-à-vis. At his corrugated and wrinkled face, his bushy brows, his luxuriant head of gre
y hair. He walked with a slight stoop. He had an interesting face, Miss Marple decided. His voice was dry and caustic, a professional man of some kind, she thought.
"I am not wrong, am I," said Professor Wanstead. "You are Miss Jane Marple?"
"Yes, I am Jane Marple."
She was slightly surprised, though for no particular reason. They had not been long enough together for people to be identified by the other travellers. The last two nights she had not been with the rest of the party. It was quite natural.
"I thought so," said Professor Wanstead, "from a description I have had of you."
"A description of me?" Miss Marple was again slightly surprised.
"Yes, I had a description of you -" he paused for a moment. His voice was not exactly lowered, but it lost volume, although she could still hear it quite easily. "From Mr Rafiel."
"Oh," said Miss Marple, startled. "From Mr Rafiel."
"You are surprised?"
"Well, yes, I am rather."
"I don't know that you should be."
"I didn't expect," began Miss Marple and then stopped.
Professor Wanstead did not speak. He was merely sitting, looking at her intently. In a minute or two, thought Miss Marple to herself, he will say to me, "What symptoms exactly, dear lady? Any discomfort in swallowing? Any lack of sleep? Digestion in good order?" She was almost sure now that he was a doctor.
"When did he describe me to you? That must have been -"
"You were going to say some time ago – some weeks ago. Before his death, that is so. He told me that you would be on this tour."
"And he knew that you would be on it too that you were going on it."
"You can put it that way," said Professor Wanstead. "He said," he continued, "that you would be travelling on this tour, that he had in fact arranged for you to be travelling on this tour."
"It was very kind of him," said Miss Marple. "Very kind indeed. I was most surprised when I found he'd booked me. Such a treat. Which I could not have afforded for myself."
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