‘Or a glass of milk perhaps. It’s not poisoned today.’ ‘No, no, not even that. We shan’t be stopping very much longer.’
‘Well, if you’re quite sure – but it wouldn’t be any trouble, you know. Nobody ever thinks anything is any trouble here.
Unless, I mean, you ask for something quite impossible.’
‘I daresay the aunt we’re visiting sometimes asks for quite impossible things,’ said Tuppence. ‘She’s a Miss Fanshawe,’ she added.
‘Oh, Miss Fanshawe,’ said the old lady. ‘Oh yes.’
Something seemed to be restraining her but Tuppence said cheerfully,
‘She’s rather a tartar, I should imagine. She always has been.’
‘Oh, yes indeed she is. I used to have an aunt myself, you know, who was very like that, especially as she grew older. But we’re all quite fond of Miss Fanshawe. She can be very, very amusing if she likes. About people, you know.’
‘Yes, I daresay she could be,’ said Tuppence. She reflected a moment or two, considering Aunt Ada in this new light.
Very acd, smd the old lady. ‘My name is Lancaster, by the way, Mrs Lancaster.’
‘My name’s Beresford,’ said Tuppence.
‘I’m afraid, you know, one does enjoy a bit of malice now and then. Her descriptions of some of the other guests here, and the things she says about them. Well, you know, one oughtn’t, of course, to f’md it funny but one does.’
‘Have you been living here long?’
‘A good while now. Yes, let me see, seven years – eight years.
Yes, yes it must be more than eight years.’ She sighed. ‘One loses touch with things. And people too. Any relations I have left live abroad.’
‘That must be rather sad.’
‘No, not really. I didn’t care for them very much. Indeed, I didn’t even know them well. I had a bad illness – a very bad illness – and I was alone in the world, so they thought it was better for me to live in a place like this. I think I’m very lucky to have come here. They are so kind and thoughtful. And the gardens are really beautiful. I know myself that I shouldn’t like to be living on my own because I do get very confused sometimes, you know. Very confused.’ She tapped her forehead.
‘I get confused here. I mix things up. I don’t always remember properly the things that have happened.’ ‘I’m sorry,’ said Tuppence. ‘I suppose one always has to have something, doesn’t one?’ ‘Some illnesses are very painful. We have two poor women living here with very bad rheumatoid arthritis. They suffer terribly. So I think perhaps it doesn’t matter so much if one gets, well, just a little confused about what happened and where, and who it was, and all that sort of thing, you know. At any rate it’s not painful physically.’ ‘No. I think perhaps you’re quite right,’ said Tuppence.
The door opened and a girl in a white overall came in with a little tray with a coffee pot on it and a plate with two biscuits, which she set down at Tuppence’s side.
‘Miss Packard thought you might care for a cup of coffee,’ she said.
‘Oh. Thank you,’ said Tuppence.
The girl went out again and Mrs Lancaster said, ‘There, you see..Very thoughtful, aren’t they?’ ‘Yes indeed.’ Tuppence poured out her coffee and began to drink it. The two women sat in silence for some time. Tuppence offered the plate of biscuits but the old lady shook her head.
‘No thank you, dear. I just like my milk plain.’ She put down the empty glass and leaned back in her chair, her eyes half closed. Tuppence thought that perhaps this was the moment in the morning when she took a little nap, so she remained silent. Suddenly however, Mrs Lancaster seemed to jerk herself awake again. Her eyes opened, she looked at Tuppence and said, ‘I see you’re looking at the fireplace.’ ‘Oh. Was I?’ said Tuppence, slightly startled.
‘Yes. I wondered -‘ she leant forward and lowered her voice.
‘ Excuse me, was it your poor child?’ Tuppence slightly taken aback, hesitated.
‘I – no, I don’t think so,’ she said.
‘I wondered. I thought perhaps you’d come for that reason.