Agatha Christie - Murder in Mesopotamia

I jumped in my chair. What a coincidence his saying that!

‘Your daughter – I am not indiscreet – she has perhaps a tendresse for one of the young men out there?’

‘Oh, I don’t suppose so. She’s had Emmott and Coleman dancing attendance on her as a matter of course. I don’t know that she cares for one more than the other. There are a couple of young Air Force chaps too. I fancy all’s fish that comes to her net at present. No, I think it’s age daring to defeat youth that annoys her so much! She doesn’t know as much of the world as I do. It’s when you get to my age that you really appreciate a schoolgirl complexion and a clear eye and a firmly knit young body. But a woman over thirty can listen with rapt attention and throw in a word here and there to show the talker what a fine fellow he is – and few young men can resist that! Sheila’s a pretty girl – but Louise Leidner was beautiful. Glorious eyes and that amazing golden fairness. Yes, she was a beautiful woman.’

Yes, I thought to myself, he’s right. Beauty’s a wonderful thing. She had been beautiful. It wasn’t the kind of looks you were jealous of – you just sat back and admired. I felt that first day I met her that I’d do anything for Mrs Leidner!

All the same, that night as I was being driven back to Tell Yarimjah (Dr Reilly made me stay for an early dinner) one or two things came back to my mind and made me rather uncomfortable. At the time I hadn’t believed a word of all Sheila Reilly’s outpouring. I’d taken it for sheer spite and malice.

But now I suddenly remembered the way Mrs Leidner had insisted on going for a stroll by herself that afternoon and wouldn’t hear of me coming with her. I couldn’t help wondering if perhaps, after all, she had been going to meet Mr Carey… And of course, it was a little odd, really, the way he and she spoke to each other so formally. Most of the others she called by their Christian names.

He never seemed to look at her, I remembered. That might be because he disliked her – or it might be just the opposite…

I gave myself a little shake. Here I was fancying and imagining all sorts of things – all because of a girl’s spiteful outburst! It just showed how unkind and dangerous it was to go about saying that kind of thing.

Mrs Leidner hadn’t been like that at all…

Of course, she hadn’t liked Sheila Reilly. She’d really been – almost catty about her that day at lunch to Mr Emmott.

Funny, the way he’d looked at her. The sort of way that you couldn’t possibly tell what he was thinking. You never could tell what Mr Emmott was thinking. He was so quiet. But very nice. A nice dependable person.

Now Mr Coleman was a foolish young man if there ever was one!

I’d got to that point in my meditations when we arrived. It was just on nine o’clock and the big door was closed and barred.

Ibrahim came running with his great key to let me in.

We all went to bed early at Tell Yarimjah. There weren’t any lights showing in the living-room. There was a light in the drawing-office and one in Dr Leidner’s office, but nearly all the other windows were dark. Everyone must have gone to bed even earlier than usual.

As I passed the drawing-office to go to my room I looked in. Mr Carey was in his shirt sleeves working over his big plan.

Terribly ill, he looked, I thought. So strained and worn. It gave me quite a pang. I don’t know what there was about Mr Carey – it wasn’t what he said because he hardly said anything – and that of the most ordinary nature, and it wasn’t what he did, for that didn’t amount to much either – and yet you just couldn’t help noticing him, and everything about him seemed to matter more than it would have about anyone else. He just counted, if you know what I mean.

He turned his head and saw me. He removed his pipe from his mouth and said: ‘Well, nurse, back from Hassanieh?’

‘Yes, Mr Carey. You’re up working late. Everybody else seems to have gone to bed.’

‘I thought I might as well get on with things,’ he said.

‘I was a bit behind-hand. And I shall be out on the dig all tomorrow. We’re starting digging again.’

‘Already?’ I asked, shocked.

He looked at me rather queerly.

‘It’s the best thing, I think. I put it up to Leidner. He’ll be in Hassanieh most of tomorrow seeing to things. But the rest of us will carry on here. You know it’s not too easy all sitting round and looking at each other as things are.’

He was right there, of course. Especially in the nervy, jumpy state everyone was in.

‘Well, of course you’re right in a way,’ I said. ‘It takes one’s mind off if one’s got something to do.’

The funeral, I knew, was to be the day after tomorrow.

He had bent over his plan again. I don’t know why, but my heart just ached for him. I felt certain that he wasn’t going to get any sleep.

‘If you’d like a sleeping draught, Mr Carey?’ I said hesitatingly.

He shook his head with a smile.

‘I’ll carry on, nurse. Bad habit, sleeping draughts.’

‘Well, good night, Mr Carey,’ I said. ‘If there’s anything I can do–’

‘Don’t think so, thank you, nurse. Good night.’

‘I’m terribly sorry,’ I said, rather too impulsively I suppose.

‘Sorry?’ He looked surprised.

‘For – for everybody. It’s all so dreadful. But especially for you.’

‘For me? Why for me?’

‘Well, you’re such an old friend of them both.’

‘I’m an old friend of Leidner’s. I wasn’t a friend of hers particularly.’

He spoke as though he had actually disliked her. Really, I wished Miss Reilly could have heard him!

‘Well, good night,’ I said and hurried along to my room.

I fussed around a bit in my room before undressing. Washed out some handkerchiefs and a pair of wash-leather gloves and wrote up my diary. I just looked out of my door again before I really started to get ready for bed. The lights were still on in the drawing-office and in the south building.

I suppose Dr Leidner was still up and working in his office. I wondered whether I ought to go and say goodnight to him. I hesitated about it – I didn’t want to seem officious. He might be busy and not want to be disturbed. In the end, however, a sort of uneasiness drove me on. After all, it couldn’t do any harm. I’d just say goodnight, ask if there was anything I could do and come away.

But Dr Leidner wasn’t there. The office itself was lit up but there was no one in it except Miss Johnson. She had her head down on the table and was crying as though her heart would break.

It gave me quite a turn. She was such a quiet, self-controlled woman. It was pitiful to see her.

‘Whatever is it, my dear?’ I cried. I put my arm round her and patted her. ‘Now, now, this won’t do at all…You mustn’t sit here crying all by yourself.’

She didn’t answer and I felt the dreadful shuddering sobs that were racking her.

‘Don’t, my dear, don’t,’ I said. ‘Take a hold on yourself. I’ll go and make you a cup of nice hot tea.’

She raised her head and said: ‘No, no, its all right, nurse. I’m being a fool.’

‘What’s upset you, my dear?’ I asked.

She didn’t answer at once, then she said: ‘It’s all too awful…’

‘Now don’t start thinking of it,’ I told her. ‘What’s happened has happened and can’t be mended. It’s no use fretting.’

She sat up straight and began to pat her hair.

‘I’m making rather a fool of myself,’ she said in her gruff voice. ‘I’ve been clearing up and tidying the office. Thought it was best to do something. And then – it all came over me suddenly–’

‘Yes, yes,’ I said hastily. ‘I know. A nice strong cup of tea and a hot-water bottle in your bed is what you want,’ I said.