Agatha Christie - Murder in the mews

She said, ‘Douglas and I are simply mad on bathing. He can stay in for hours.’

And at that Hercule Poirot’s eyes slid over her shoulder to the spot on the beach where that enthusiastic bather, Mr Douglas Gold, was sitting talking to Valentine Chantry.

His wife said:

‘I can’t think why he doesn’t come…’

Her voice held a kind of childish bewilderment.

Poirot’s eyes rested thoughtfully on Valentine Chantry. He thought that other women in their time had made that same remark.

Beside him, he heard Mrs Gold draw in her breath sharply.

She said—and her voice was cold:

‘She’s supposed to be very attractive, I believe. But Douglas doesn’t like that type of woman.’

Hercule Poirot did not reply.

Mrs Gold plunged into the sea again.

She swam away from the shore with slow, steady strokes. You could see that she loved the water.

Poirot retraced his steps to the group on the beach.

It had been augmented by the arrival of old General Barnes, a veteran who was usually in the company of the young. He was sitting now between Pamela and Sarah, and he and Pamela were engaged in dishing up various scandals with appropriate embellishments.

Commander Chantry had returned from his errand. He and Douglas Gold were sitting on either side of Valentine.

Valentine was sitting up very straight between the two men and talking. She talked easily and lightly in her sweet, drawling voice, turning her head to take first one man and then the other in the conversation.

She was just finishing an anecdote.

‘—and what do you think the foolish man said? “It may have been only a minute, but I’d remember you anywhere , Mum!” Didn’t he, Tony? And you know, I thought it was so sweet of him. I do think it’s such a kind world—I mean, everybody is so frightfully kind to me always—I don’t know why—they just are. But I said to Tony—d’you remember, darling—“Tony, if you want to be a teeny-weeny bit jealous, you can be jealous of that commissionaire.” Because he really was too adorable…’

There was a pause and Douglas Gold said:

‘Good fellows—some of these commissionaires.’

‘Oh, yes—but he took such trouble—really an immense amount of trouble—and seemed just pleased to be able to help me.’

Douglas Gold said:

‘Nothing odd about that. Anyone would for you, I’m sure.’

She cried delightedly:

‘How nice of you! Tony, did you hear that?’

Commander Chantry grunted.

His wife sighed:

‘Tony never makes pretty speeches—do you, my lamb?’

Her white hand with its long red nails ruffled up his dark head.

He gave her a sudden sidelong look. She murmured:

‘I don’t really know how he puts up with me. He’s simply frightfully clever—absolutely frantic with brains—and I just go on talking nonsense the whole time, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Nobody minds what I do or say—everybody spoils me. I’m sure it’s frightfully bad for me.’

Commander Chantry said across her to the other man:

‘That your missus in the sea?’

‘Yes. Expect it’s about time I joined her.’

Valentine murmured:

‘But it’s so lovely here in the sun. You mustn’t go into the sea yet. Tony darling, I don’t think I shall actually bathe today—not my first day. I might get a chill or something. But why don’t you go in now, Tony darling? Mr—Mr Gold will stay and keep me company while you’re in.’

Chantry said rather grimly:

‘No, thanks. Shan’t go in just yet. Your wife seems to be waving to you, Gold.’

Valentine said:

‘How well your wife swims. I’m sure she’s one of those terribly efficient women who do everything well. They always frighten me so because I feel they despise me. I’m so frightfully bad at everything—an absolute duffer, aren’t I, Tony darling?’

But again Commander Chantry only grunted.

His wife murmured affectionately:

‘You’re too sweet to admit it. Men are so wonderfully loyal—that’s what I like about them. I do think men are so much more loyal than women—and they never say nasty things. Women, I always think, are rather petty .’

Sarah Blake rolled over on her side towards Poirot.

She murmured between her teeth.

‘Examples of pettiness, to suggest that dear Mrs Chantry is in any way not absolute perfection! What a complete idiot the woman is! I really do think Valentine Chantry is very nearly the most idiotic woman I ever met. She can’t do anything but say, “Tony, darling,” and roll her eyes. I should fancy she’d got cottonwool padding instead of brains.’

Poirot raised his expressive eyebrows.

‘ Un peu sévère! ’

‘Oh, yes. Put it down as pure “Cat,” if you like. She certainly has her methods! Can’t she leave any man alone? Her husband’s looking like thunder.’

Looking out to sea, Poirot remarked:

‘Mrs Gold swims well.’

‘Yes, she isn’t like us who find it a nuisance to get wet. I wonder if Mrs Chantry will ever go into the sea at all while she’s out here.’

‘Not she,’ said General Barnes huskily. ‘She won’t risk that make-up of hers coming off. Not that she isn’t a fine-looking woman although perhaps a bit long in the tooth.’

‘She’s looking your way, General,’ said Sarah wickedly. ‘And you’re wrong about the make-up. We’re all waterproof and kissproof nowadays.’

‘Mrs Gold’s coming out,’ announced Pamela.

‘Here we go gathering nuts and may,’ hummed Sarah. ‘Here comes his wife to fetch him away—fetch him away—fetch him away…’

Mrs Gold came straight up the beach. She had quite a pretty figure but her plain, waterproof cap was rather too serviceable to be attractive.

‘Aren’t you coming, Douglas?’ she demanded impatiently. ‘The sea is lovely and warm.’

‘Rather.’

Douglas Gold rose hastily to his feet. He paused a moment and as he did so Valentine Chantry looked up at him with a sweet smile.

‘Au revoir,’ she said.

Gold and his wife went down the beach.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Pamela said critically:

‘I don’t think, you know, that that was wise. To snatch your husband away from another woman is always bad policy. It makes you seem so possessive. And husbands hate that.’

‘You seem to know a lot about husbands, Miss Pamela,’ said General Barnes.

‘Other people’s—not my own!’

‘Ah! that’s where the difference comes in.’

‘Yes, but General, I shall have learnt a lot of Do Nots.’

‘Well, darling,’ said Sarah, ‘I shouldn’t wear a cap like that for one thing…’

‘Seems very sensible to me,’ said the General. ‘Seems a nice, sensible little woman altogether.’

‘You’ve hit it exactly, General,’ said Sarah. ‘But you know there’s a limit to the sensibleness of sensible women. I have a feeling she won’t be so sensible when it’s a case of Valentine Chantry.’

She turned her head and exclaimed in a low, excited whisper:

‘Look at him now. Just like thunder. That man looks as though he had got the most frightful temper…’

Commander Chantry was indeed scowling after the retreating husband and wife in a singularly unpleasant fashion.

Sarah looked up at Poirot.

‘Well?’ she said. ‘What do you make of all this?’

Hercule Poirot did not reply in words, but once again his forefinger traced a design in the sand. The same design—a triangle.

‘The eternal triangle,’ mused Sarah. ‘Perhaps you’re right. If so, we’re in for an exciting time in the next few weeks.’