“A most unsuitable girl — as seems always to be the way. Oh, I don’t mean an actress or anything like that. The local doctor’s sister — more like his daughter, really, years younger — and the poor man with no idea how to bring her up. Men are so helpless, aren’t they? She ran quite wild, entangled herself first with a young man in the office — a mere clerk — and a very unsatisfactory character, too. They had to get rid of him. Repeated confidential information. Anyway, this girl, Helen Kennedy, was, I suppose, very pretty. I didn’t think so. I always thought her hair was touched up. But Walter, poor boy, fell very much in love with her.
As I say, quite unsuitable, no money and no prospects, and not the kind of girl one wanted as a daughter-in-law. Still, what can a mother do? Walter proposed to her and she refused him, and then he got this silly idea into his head of going out to India and being a tea-planter. My husband said, “Let him go,” though of course he was very disappointed. He had been looking forward to having Walter with him in the firm and Walter had passed all his law exams and everything. Still, there it was. Really, the havoc these young women cause!” “Oh, I know. My nephew — ” Once again Mrs. Fane swept over Miss Marple’s nephew.
“So the dear boy went out to Assam or was it Bangalore — really I can’t remember after all these years. And I felt most upset because I knew his health wouldn’t stand it. And he hadn’t been out there a year (doing very well, too. Walter does everything well) than–would you believe it?
–this impudent chit of a girl changes her mind and writes out that she’d like to marry him after all.” “Dear, dear.” Miss Marple shook her head.
“Gets together her trousseau, books her passage — and what do you think the next move is?” “I can’t imagine.” Miss Marple leaned forward in rapt attention.
“Has a love-affair with a married man, if you please. On the boat going out. A married man with three children, I believe.
Anyway there is Walter on the quay to meet her and the first thing she does is to say she can’t marry him after all. Don’t you call that a wicked thing to do?” “Oh, I do indeed. It might have completely destroyed your son’s faith in human nature.” “It should have shown her to him in her true colours. But there, that type of woman gets away with anything.” “He didn’t — ” Miss Marple hesitated ” — resent her action? Some men would have been terribly angry.” “Walter has always had wonderful self control. However upset and annoyed Walter may be over anything, he never shows it.” Miss Marple peered at her speculatively.
Hesitantly, she put out a feeler.
“That is because it goes really deep, perhaps? One is really astonished sometimes, with children. A sudden outburst from some child that one has thought didn’t care at all. A sensitive nature that can’t express itself until it’s driven absolutely beyond endurance.” “Ah, it’s very curious you should say that. Miss Marple. I remember so well.
Gerald and Robert, you know, both hottempered and always apt to fight. Quite natural, of course, for healthy boys — ” “Oh, quite natural.” “And dear Walter, always so quiet and patient. And then, one day, Robert got hold of his model aeroplane — he’d built it up himself with days of work — so patient and clever with his fingers — and Robert, who was a dear high-spirited boy but careless, smashed it. And when I came into the schoolroom there was Robert down on the floor and Walter attacking him with the poker, he’d practically knocked him out–and I simply had all I could do to drag Walter off him. He kept repeating, “He did it on purpose — he did it on purpose. I’m going to kill him.” You know, I was quite frightened. Boys feel things so intensely, do they not?” “Yes, indeed,” said Miss Marple. Her eyes were thoughtful.
She reverted to the former topic.