X

A POCKET FULL OF RYE BY AGATHA CHRISTIE

of the trades people. Snobbery here raised

its hideous head and marooned Mrs. Emmett

on a permanent island of loneliness.

The necessity to talk grew upon Mrs.

Emmett, and on that particular day it had

burst its bounds, and Miss Marple had

251

received the full flood of the torrent. She had

been sorry for Mrs. Emmett then, and today

she was rather sorry for Mrs. Percival

Fortescue.

Mrs. Percival had had a lot of grievances to

bear and the relief of airing them to a more or

less total stranger was enormous.

“Of course I never want to complain,” said

Mrs. Percival. “I’ve never been of the complaining

kind. What I always say is that one

must put up with things. What can’t be cured

must be endured and I’m sure I’ve never said

a word to anyone. It’s really difficult to know

who I could have spoken to. In some ways one

is very isolated here–very isolated. It’s very

convenient, of course, and a great saving of

expense to have our own set of rooms in this

house. But of course it’s not at all like having

a place of your own. I’m sure you agree.”

Miss Marple said she agreed.

“Fortunately our new house is almost

ready to move into. It is a question really of

getting the painters and decorators out.

These men are so slow. My husband, of

course, has been quite satisfied living here.

But then it’s different for a man. That’s what

I always say–it’s so different for a man.

Don’t you agree?”

252

Miss Marple agreed that it was very

different for a man. She could say this

without a qualm as it was what she really

believed. “The gentlemen” were in Miss

Marple’s mind, in a totally different category

to her own sex. They required two eggs plus

bacon for breakfast, three good nourishing

meals a day and were never to be contradicted

or argued with before dinner. Mrs. Percival

went on:

“My husband, you see, is away all day in

the city. When he comes home he’s just tired

and wants to sit down and read. But I, on the

contrary, am alone here all day with no congenial

company at all. I’ve been perfectly

comfortable and all that. Excellent food. But

what I do feel one needs is a really pleasant

social circle. The people round here are really

not my kind. Part of them are what I call a

flashy, bridge-playing lot. Not nice bridge. I

like a hand at bridge myself as well as anyone, but of course they’re all very rich down here.

They play for enormously high stakes, and

there’s a great deal of drinking. In fact, the

sort of life that I call really fast society. Then, of course, there’s a sprinkling of–well, you

can only call them old pussies who love to

potter round with a trowel and do gardening.”

253

Miss Marple looked slightly guilty since

she was herself an inveterate gardener.

“I don’t want to say anything against the

dead,” resumed Mrs. Percy rapidly, “but

there’s no doubt about it, Mr. Fortescue, my

father-in-law, I mean, made a very foolish

second marriage. My—well I can’t call her my

mother-in-law, she was the same age as I am.

The real truth of it is she was man-mad.

Absolutely man-mad. And the way she spent

money! My father-in-law was an absolute fool

about her. Didn’t care what bills she ran up.

It vexed Percy very much, very much indeed.

Percy is always so careful about money

matters. He hates waste. And then what with

Mr. Fortescue being so peculiar and so bad

tempered, flashing out in these terrible rages,

spending money like water backing wildcat

schemes. Well—it wasn’t at all nice.”

Miss Marple ventured upon making a

remark.

“That must have worried your husband,

too?”

“Oh, yes, it did. For the last year Percy’s

been very worried indeed. It’s really made

him quite different. His manner, you know,

changed even towards me. Sometimes when I

talked to him he used not to answer.” Mrs.

254

Percy sighed, then went on, “Then Elaine,

my sister-in-law, you know, she’s a very odd

sort of girl. Very out of doors and all that.

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