‘Everyone here liked Mrs Lancaster very much. She was a little bit – well, you know what I mean – woolly in the head. I mean, she forgot things, confused things and couldn’t remember names and addresses sometimes.’
‘Did she get many letters?’ said Tuppence. ‘I mean letters from abroad and things?’
‘Well, I think Mrs Johnson – or Mr Johnson – wrote once or twice from Africa but not after the first year. People, I’m afraid, do forget, you know. Especially when they go to a new country and a different life, and I don’t think they’d been very closely in touch with her at any time. I think it was just a distant relation, and a family responsibility, and that was all it meant to them. All the financial arrangements were done through the lawyer, Mr Eccles, a very nice, reputable farm. Actually we’d had one or two dealings with that finn before so that we new about them, as they knew about us. But I think most of Mrs Lancaster’s friends and rehfions had passed over and so she didn’t hear much from anyone, and I think hardly anyone ever came to visit her. One very nice-looking man came about a year later, I think. I don’t think he knew her personally at all well but he was a friend of Mr Johnson’s and had also been in the Colonial service overseas. I think he just came to make sure she was well and happy.’
‘And after that,’ said Tuppence,’ everyone forgot about her.’ ‘I’m afraid so,’ said Miss Packard. ‘It’s sad, isn’t it? But it’s the usual rather than the unusual thing to happen. Fortunately, most visitors to us make their own friends here. They get friendly with someone who has their own tastes or certain memories in common, and so things settle down quite happily.
I think most of them forget most of their past life.’
‘Some of them, I suppose,’ said Tommy, ‘are a little -‘ he hesitated for a word ‘- a little -‘ his hand went slowly to his forehead, but he drew it away. ‘I don’t mean -‘ he said.
‘Oh, I know perfectly what you mean,’ said Miss Packard.
‘We don’t take mental patients, you know, but we do take what you might call borderline cases. I mean, people who are rather senile – can’t look after themselves properly, or who have certain fancies and imaginations. Sometimes they imagine themselves to be historical personages. Quite in a harmless way. We’ve had two Marie Antoinettes here, one of them was always talking about something called the Petit Trianon and drinking a lot of milk which she seemed to associate with the place. And we had one dear old soul who insisted that she was Madame Curie and that she had discovered radium. She used to read the papers with great interest, especially any news of atomic bombs or scientific discoveries. Then she always explained it was she and her husband who had first started experiments on these lines. Harmless delusions are things that manage to keep you very happy when you’re elderly. They don’t usually last all the time, you know. You’re not Marie Antoinette every day or even Madame Curie. Usually it comes on about once a fortnight. Then I suppose presumably one gets tired of keeping the play-acting up. And of course more often it’s just forgetfulness that people suffer from. They can’t quite remember who they are. Or they keep saying there’s something very important they’ve forgotten and if they could only remember it. That sort of thing.’ ‘I see,’ said Tuppence. She hesitated, and then said, ‘Mrs Lancaster – Was it always things about that particular fireplace in the sitting-room she remembered, or was it any fireplace?’ Miss Packard stared – ‘A fireplace? I don’t understand what yOU mean.’ ‘It was something she said that I didn’t tmderstand Perhaps she’d had some unpleasant association with a fireplace, or read some story that had frightened her.’ ‘Possibly.’ Tuppence said: ‘I’m still rather worded about the picture she gave to Aunt Ada.’ ‘I really don’t think you need worry, Mrs Beresford. I expect she’s forgotten all about it by now. I don’t think she prized it particularly. She was just pleased that Miss Fanshawe admired it and was glad for her to have it, and I’m sure she’d be glad for you to have it because you admire it. It’s a nice picture, I thought so myself. Not that I know much about pictures.’ ‘I tell you what I’ll do. I’ll write to Mrs Johnson ffyou’ll give me her address, and just ask if it’s all right to keep it.’ ‘The only address I’ve got is the hotel in London they were going to – the Cleveland, I think it was called. Yes, the Cleveland Hotel, George Street, W.1. She was taking Mrs Lancaster there for about four or five days and after that I think they were going to stay with some relations in Scotland. I expect the Cleveland Hotel will have a forwarding address.’ ‘Well, thank you – And now, about this fur stole of Aunt Ada’s?