Agatha Christie - Cat Among the Pigeons

‘I think I made a good job of things,’ said Miss Bulstrode thoughtfully. ‘Nothing, of course, is ever quite as one first imagined it…

‘Tell me, Eleanor,’ she said suddenly, ‘if you were running this place instead of me, what changes would you make? Don’t mind saying. I shall be interested to hear.’

‘I don’t think I should want to make any changes,’ said Eleanor Vansittart. ‘It seems to me the spirit of the place and the whole organization is well-nigh perfect.’

‘You’d carry on on the same lines, you mean?’

‘Yes, indeed. I don’t think they could be bettered.’

Miss Bulstrode was silent for a moment. She was thinking to herself: I wonder if she said that in order to please me. One never knows with people. However close to them you may have been for years. Surely, she can’t really mean that. Anybody with any creative feeling at all must want to make changes. It’s true, though, that it mightn’t have seemed tactful to say so…And tact is very important. It’s important with parents, it’s important with the girls, it’s important with the staff. Eleanor certainly has tact.

Aloud, she said, ‘There must always be adjustments, though, mustn’t there? I mean with changing ideas and conditions of life generally.’

‘Oh, that, yes,’ said Miss Vansittart. ‘One has, as they say, to go with the times. But it’s your school, Honoria, you’ve made it what it is and your traditions are the essence of it. I think tradition is very important, don’t you?’

Miss Bulstrode did not answer. She was hovering on the brink of irrevocable words. The offer of a partnership hung in the air. Miss Vansittart, though seeming unaware in her well-bred way, must be conscious of the fact that it was there. Miss Bulstrode did not know really what was holding her back. Why did she so dislike to commit herself? Probably, she admitted ruefully, because she hated the idea of giving up control. Secretly, of course, she wanted to stay, she wanted to go on running her school. But surely nobody could be a worthier successor than Eleanor? So dependable, so reliable. Of course, as far as that went, so was dear Chaddy—reliable as they came. And yet you could never envisage Chaddy as headmistress of an outstanding school.

‘What do I want?’ said Miss Bulstrode to herself. ‘How tiresome I am being! Really, indecision has never been one of my faults up to now.’

A bell sounded in the distance.

‘My German class,’ said Miss Vansittart. ‘I must go in.’ She moved at a rapid but dignified step towards the school buildings. Following her more slowly, Miss Bulstrode almost collided with Eileen Rich, hurrying from a side path.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry, Miss Bulstrode. I didn’t see you.’ Her hair, as usual, was escaping from its untidy bun. Miss Bulstrode noted anew the ugly but interesting bones of her face, a strange, eager, compelling young woman.

‘You’ve got a class?’

‘Yes. English—’

‘You enjoy teaching, don’t you?’ said Miss Bulstrode.

‘I love it. It’s the most fascinating thing in the world.’

‘Why?’

Eileen Rich stopped dead. She ran a hand through her hair. She frowned with the effort of thought.

‘How interesting. I don’t know that I’ve really thought about it. Why does one like teaching? Is it because it makes one feel grand and important? No, no…it’s not as bad as that. No, it’s more like fishing, I think. You don’t know what catch you’re going to get, what you’re going to drag up from the sea. It’s the quality of the response . It’s so exciting when it comes. It doesn’t very often, of course.’

Miss Bulstrode nodded in agreement. She had been right! This girl had something!

‘I expect you’ll run a school of your own some day,’ she said.

‘Oh, I hope so,’ said Eileen Rich. ‘I do hope so. That’s what I’d like above anything.’

‘You’ve got ideas already, haven’t you, as to how a school should be run?’

‘Everyone has ideas, I suppose,’ said Eileen Rich. ‘I daresay a great many of them are fantastic and they’d go utterly wrong. That would be a risk, of course. But one would have to try them out. I would have to learn by experience…The awful thing is that one can’t go by other people’s experience, can one?’

‘Not really,’ said Miss Bulstrode. ‘In life one has to make one’s own mistakes.’

‘That’s all right in life,’ said Eileen Rich. ‘In life you can pick yourself up and start again.’ Her hands, hanging at her sides, clenched themselves into fists. Her expression was grim. Then suddenly it relaxed into humour. ‘But if a school’s gone to pieces, you can’t very well pick that up and start again, can you?’

‘If you ran a school like Meadowbank,’ said Miss Bulstrode, ‘would you make changes—experiment?’

Eileen Rich looked embarrassed. ‘That’s—that’s an awfully hard thing to say,’ she said.

‘You mean you would,’ said Miss Bulstrode. ‘Don’t mind speaking your mind, child.’

‘One would always want, I suppose, to use one’s own ideas,’ said Eileen Rich. ‘I don’t say they’d work. They mightn’t.’

‘But it would be worth taking a risk?’

‘It’s always worth taking a risk, isn’t it?’ said Eileen Rich. ‘I mean if you feel strongly enough about anything.’

‘You don’t object to leading a dangerous life. I see…’ said Miss Bulstrode.

‘I think I’ve always led a dangerous life.’ A shadow passed over the girl’s face. ‘I must go. They’ll be waiting.’ She hurried off.

Miss Bulstrode stood looking after her. She was still standing there lost in thought when Miss Chadwick came hurrying to find her.

‘Oh! there you are. We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Professor Anderson has just rung up. He wants to know if he can take Meroe this next weekend. He knows it’s against the rules so soon but he’s going off quite suddenly to—somewhere that sounds like Azure Basin.’

‘Azerbaijan,’ said Miss Bulstrode automatically, her mind still on her own thoughts.

‘Not enough experience,’ she murmured to herself. ‘That’s the risk. What did you say, Chaddy?’

Miss Chadwick repeated the message.

‘I told Miss Shapland to say that we’d ring him back, and sent her to find you.’

‘Say it will be quite all right,’ said Miss Bulstrode. ‘I recognize that this is an exceptional occasion.’

Miss Chadwick looked at her keenly.

‘You’re worrying, Honoria.’

‘Yes, I am. I don’t really know my own mind. That’s unusual for me—and it upsets me…I know what I’d like to do—but I feel that to hand over to someone without the necessary experience wouldn’t be fair to the school.’

‘I wish you’d give up this idea of retirement. You belong here. Meadowbank needs you.’

‘Meadowbank means a lot to you, Chaddy, doesn’t it?’

‘There’s no school like it anywhere in England,’ said Miss Chadwick. ‘We can be proud of ourselves, you and I, for having started it.’

Miss Bulstrode put an affectionate arm round her shoulders. ‘We can indeed, Chaddy. As for you, you’re the comfort of my life. There’s nothing about Meadowbank you don’t know. You care for it as much as I do. And that’s saying a lot, my dear.’

Miss Chadwick flushed with pleasure. It was so seldom that Honoria Bulstrode broke through her reserve.

II

‘I simply can’t play with the beastly thing. It’s no good.’

Jennifer flung her racquet down in despair.

‘Oh, Jennifer, what a fuss you make.’

‘It’s the balance,’ Jennifer picked it up again and waggled it experimentally. ‘It doesn’t balance right.’