Agatha Christie - Elephants Can Remember

"Yes," said Poirot, "that is what I have partly heard already, but mainly, I may say, by hearsay, which is not dependable.

What I want to ask you was, this was a case concerned with identical twins. What about the other twin? Margaret PrestonGrey.

Afterwards the wife of General Ravenscroft. Was she likely to be affected by the same malady?"

"There was never any medical case about her. She was perfectly sane. My father was interested, visited her once or twice and talked to her because he had so often seen cases of almost identical illnesses or mental disturbances happen between identical twins who had started life very devoted to each other."

"Only started life, you said?"

"Yes. On certain occasions a state of animosity can arise between identical twins. It follows on a first keen protective love one for the other, but it can degenerate into something which is nearer hatred, if there is some emotional strain that could trigger it off or could arouse it, or any emotional crisis to account for animosity arising between two sisters.

"I think there might have been that here. General Ravenscroft as a young subaltern or captain or whatever he was, fell deeply in love, I think, with Dorothea Preston-Grey, who was a very beautiful girl. Actually the more beautiful of the two.

She also fell in love with him. They were not officially engaged, but Captain Ravenscroft transferred his affections fairly soon to the other sister, Margaret-or Molly, as she was called. He fell in love with her, and asked her to marry him. She returned his affection and they were married as soon as it became feasible in his career. My father had no doubt that the other twin, Dolly, was bitterly jealous of her sister's marriage and that she continued to be in love with Alistair Ravenscroft and to resent his marriage. However, she got over it all, married another man in due course-a thoroughly happy marriage, it seemed, and later she used frequently to go to visit the Ravenscrofts, not only on that one occasion in Malaya, but later when they were in another station abroad and after they returned home. She was by that time apparently cured again, was no longer in any kind of mental dejection and lived with a very reliable nurse-companion and staff of servants. I believe, or so my father had always told me, that Lady Ravenscroft, Molly, remained very devoted to her sister. She felt very protective towards her and loved her dearly. She wanted often, I think, to see more of her than she did, but General Ravenscroft was not so keen on her doing so. I think it possible that the slightly unbalanced Dolly-Mrs. Jarrow- continued to feel a very strong attachment to General Ravenscroft, which I think may have been embarrassing and difficult for him, though I believe that his wife was quite convinced that her sister had got over any feelings of jealousy or anger."

"I understand Mrs. Jarrow was staying with the Ravenscrofts about three weeks or so before the tragedy of their suicide happened."

"Yes, that was quite true. Her own tragic death happened then. She was quite frequently a sleepwalker. She went out one night walking in her sleep and had an accident, falling down a portion of the cliff to which a pathway which had been discarded appeared to lead. She was found the next day and I believe died in hospital without recovering consciousness.

Her sister Molly was extremely upset and bitterly unhappy about this, but I would like to say, which you probably want to know, I do not think that this can in any way be held responsible for the subsequent suicide of the married couple who were living so happily together. Grief for a sister's or a sister-in-law's death would hardly lead you to commit suicide.

Certainly not to a double suicide,"

"Unless, perhaps," said Hercule Poirot, "Margaret Ravenscroft had been responsible for her sister's death."

"Good heavens!" said Dr. Willoughby, "surely you are not suggesting-"

"That it was Margaret who followed her sleepwalking sister, and that it was Margaret's hand that was stretched out to push Dorothea over the cliff edge?"

"I refuse absolutely," said Dr. Willoughby, "to accept any such idea."

"With people," said Hercule Poirot, "one never knows."

Mrs. Oliver looked at Cheltenham with approval. As it happened, she had never been to Cheltenham before. How nice, said Mrs. Oliver to herself, to see some houses that are really like houses, proper houses.

Casting her mind back to youthful days, she remembered that she had known people, or at least her relations, her aunts, had known people who lived at Cheltenham. Retired people usually. Army or Navy. It was the sort of place, she thought, where one would like to come and live if one had spent a good deal of time abroad. It had a feeling of English security, good taste and pleasant chat and conversation.

After looking in one or two agreeable antique shops, she found her way to where she wanted-or rather Hercule Poirot wanted her-to go. It was called The Rose Green Hairdressing Saloons. She walked inside it and looked round. Four or five people were in process of having things done to their hair. A plump young lady left her client and came forward with an inquiring air.

"Mrs. Rosentelle?" said Mrs. Oliver, glancing down at a card. "I understand she said she could see me if I came here this morning. I don't mean," she added, "having anything done to my hair, but I wanted to consult her about something and I believe a telephone call was made and she said if I came at half-past eleven she could spare me a short time."

"Oh, yes," said the girl. "I think Madam is expecting someone." She led the way through a passage down a short flight of steps and pushed a swing door at the bottom of it. From the hairdressing saloon they had passed into what was obviously Mrs. Rosentelle's house. The plump girl knocked at the door and said, "The lady to see you," as she put her nose in, and then asked rather nervously, "What name did you say?"

"Mrs. Oliver," said Mrs. Oliver.

She walked in. It had a faint effect of what might have been yet another showroom. There were curtains of rose gauze and roses on the wallpaper and Mrs. Rosentelle, a woman Mrs. Oliver thought of as roughly her own age or possibly a good many years older, was just finishing what was obviously a cup of morning coffee.

"Mrs. Rosentelle?" said Mrs. Oliver.

"Yes?"

"You did expect me?"

"Oh, yes. I didn't quite understand what it was all about.

The lines are so bad on the telephone. That is quite all right. I have about half an hour to spare. Would you like some coffee?"

"No, thank you," said Mrs. Oliver. "I won't keep you any longer than I need. It is just something that I want to ask you about, that you may happen to remember. You have had quite a long career, I understand, in the hairdressing business."

"Oh, yes. I'm quite thankful to give over to the girls now. I don't do anything myself these days."

"Perhaps you still advise people?"

"Yes, I do do that." Mrs. Rosentelle smiled.

She had a nice, intelligent face with well-arranged brown hair with somewhat interesting gray streaks in it here and there.

"I'm not sure what it's all about."

"Well, really, I wanted to ask you a question about, well, I suppose in a way about wigs generally."

"We don't do as much in wigs now as we used to do."

"You had a business in London, didn't you?"

"Yes. First in Bond Street and then we moved to Sloane Street, but it's very nice to live in the country after all that, you know. Oh, yes, my husband and I are very satisfied here.

We run a small business, but we don't do much in the wig line nowadays," she said, "though my husband does advise and get wigs designed for men who are bald. It really makes a big difference; you know, to many people in their business if they don't look too old and it often helps in getting a job."