Elephants Can Remember - Christie Agatha (читать хорошую книгу TXT) 📗
He was at school. It was the little girl, and another little girl who'd come to play with her that afternoon. Ah, well, I can't remember the details now. It's so long ago. There was a lot of talk about it. There was some as said, you know, as it wasn't her at all. They thought it was the ayah that had done it, but the ayah loved them and she was very, very upset. She wanted to take them away from the house. She said they weren't safe there, and all sorts of things like that. But of course the others didn't believe in it and then this came about and I gather they think it must have been whatever her name was-I can't remember it now. Anyway, there it was." "And what happened to this sister, either of General or Lady Ravenscroft?" "Well, I think, you know, as she was taken away by a doctor and put in some place and went back to England, I believe, in the end. I dunno if she went to the same place as before, but she was well looked after somewhere. There was plenty of money, I think, you know. Plenty of money in the husband's family. Maybe she got all right again. But, well, I haven't thought of it for years. Not till you came here asking me stories about General and Lady Ravenscroft. I wonder where they are now. They must have retired before now, long ago." "Well, it was rather sad," said Mrs. Oliver. "Perhaps you read about it in the papers." "Read what?" "Well, they bought a house in England and then-" "Ah, now, it's coming back to me. I remember reading something about that in the paper. Yes, and thinking then that I knew the name Ravenscroft, but I couldn't quite remember when and how. They fell over a cliff, didn't they?
Something of that kind." "Yes," said Mrs. Oliver, "something of that kind." "Now look here, dearie, it's so nice to see you, it is. You must let me give you a cup of tea." "Really," said Mrs. Oliver, "I don't need any tea. Really, I don't want it." "Of course you want some tea. If you don't mind now, come into the kitchen, will you? I mean, I spend most of my time there now. It's easier to get about there. But I take visitors always into this room because I'm proud of my things, you know. Proud of my things and proud of all the children and the others." "I think," said Mrs. Oliver, "that people like you must have had a wonderful life with all the children you've looked after." "Yes. I remember when you were a little girl, you liked to listen to the stories I told you. There was one about a tiger, I remember, and one about monkeys-monkeys in a tree." "Yes," said Mrs. Oliver, "I remember those. It was a very long time ago." Her mind swept back to herself, a child of six or seven, walking in button boots that were rather too tight on a road in England, and listening to a story of India and Egypt from an attendant Nanny. And this was Nanny. Mrs. Matcham was Nanny. She looked round the room as she followed her hostess out. At the pictures of girls, of schoolboys, of children and various middle-aged people, all mainly photographed in their best clothes and sent in nice frames or other things because they hadn't forgotten Nanny. Because of them, probably, Nanny was having a reasonably comfortable old age with money supplied. Mrs. Oliver felt a sudden desire to burst out crying.
This was so unlike her that she was able to stop herself by an effort of will. She followed Mrs. Matcham to the kitchen.
There she produced the offering she had brought.
"Well, I never! A tin of Tophole Thathams tea. Always my favorite. Fancy you remembering. I can hardly ever get it nowadays. And that's my favorite tea biscuits. Well, you are a one for never forgetting. What was it they used to call you- those two little boys who came to play-one would call you Lady Elephant and the other one called you Lady Swan. The one who called you Lady Elephant used to sit on your back and you went about the floor on all fours and pretended to have a trunk you picked things up with." "You don't forget many things, do you, Nanny?" said Mrs.
Oliver.
"Ah," said Mrs. Matcham. "Elephants don't forget. That's the old saying."
Chapter VIII. Mrs. Oliver At Work
Mrs. Oliver entered the premises of Williams amp; Barnet, a well-appointed chemist's shop also dealing with various cosmetics. She paused by a kind of dumbwaiter containing various types of corn remedies, hesitated by a mountain of rubber sponges, wandered vaguely toward the prescription desk and then came down past the well-displayed aids to beauty as imagined by Elizabeth Arden, Helena Rubinstein, Max Factor and other benefit providers for women's lives.
She stopped finally near a rather plump girl of thirty-five or so, and inquired for certain lipsticks, then uttered a short cry of surprise.
"Why, Marlene-it is Marlene isn't it?" "Well, I never. It's Mrs. Oliver. I am pleased to see you. It's wonderful, isn't it? All the girls will be very excited when I tell them that you've been in to buy things here." "No need to tell them," said Mrs. Oliver.
"Oh, now I'm sure they'll be bringing out their autograph books!" "I'd rather they didn't," said Mrs. Oliver. "And how are you, Marlene?" "Oh, getting along, getting along," said Marlene.
"I didn't know whether you'd be working here still." "Well, it's as good as any other place, I think, and they treat you very well here, you know. I had a rise in salary last year and I'm more or less in charge of this cosmetic counter now." "And your mother? Is she well?" "Oh, yes. Mum will be pleased to hear I've met you." "Is she still living in her same house down the-the road past the hospital?" "Oh, yes, we're still there. Dad's not been so well. He's been in hospital for a while, but Mum keeps along very well indeed. Oh, she will be pleased to hear I've seen you. Are you staying here by any chance?" "Not really," said Mrs. Oliver. "I'm just passing through, as a matter of fact. I've been to see an old friend and I wonder now-" she looked at her wrist watch. "Would your mother be at home now, Marlene? I could just call in and see her.
Have a few words before I have to get on." "Oh, do do that," said Marlene. "She'd be ever so pleased.
I'm sorry I can't leave here and come with you, but I don't think-well, it wouldn't be viewed very well. You know, I can't get off for another hour and a half." "Oh, well, some other time," said Mrs. Oliver. "Anyway, I can't quite remember-was it Number Seventeen or has it got a name?" "It's called Laurel Cottage." "Oh, yes, of course. How stupid of me. Well, nice to have seen you." She hurried out plus one unwanted lipstick in her bag, and drove her car down the main street of Chipping Bartram and turned, after passing a garage and a hospital building, down a rather narrow road which had quite pleasant small houses built on either side of it.
She left the car outside Laurel Cottage and went in. A thin, energetic woman with gray hair, of about fifty years of age, opened the door and displayed instant signs of recognition.
"Why, so it's you, Mrs. Oliver. Ah, well, now. Not seen you for years and years, I haven't." "Oh, it's a very long time." "Well, come in then; come in. Can I make you a nice cup of tea?" "I'm afraid not," said Mrs. Oliver, "because I've had tea already with a friend, and I've got to get back to London. As it happened, I went into the chemist for something I wanted and I saw Marlene there." "Yes, she's got a very good job there. They think a lot of her in that place. They say she's got a lot of enterprise." "Well, that's very nice. And how are you, Mrs. Buckle? You look very well. Hardly older than when I saw you last." "Oh, I wouldn't like to say that. Gray hairs, and I've lost a lot of weight." "This seems to be a day when I meet a lot of friends I knew formerly," said Mrs. Oliver, going into the house and being led into a small, rather overclustered sitting room. "I don't know if you remember Mrs. Carstairs-Mrs. Julia Carstairs." "Oh, of course I do. Yes, rather. She must be getting on." "Oh, yes, she is, really. But we talked over a few old days, you know. In fact, we went as far as talking about that tragedy that occurred. I was in America at the time so I didn't know much about it. People called Ravenscroft." "Oh, I remember that well." "You worked for them, didn't you, at one time, Mrs. Buckle?" "Yes. I used to go in three mornings a week. Very nice people they were. You know, really military lady and gentleman, as you might say. The old school." "It was a very tragic thing to happen." "Yes, it was, indeed." "Were you still working for them at that time?" "No. As a matter of fact, I'd given up going there. I had my old Aunt Emma come to live with me and she was rather blind and not very well, and I couldn't really spare the time any more to go out doing things for people. But I'd been with them up to about a month or two before that." "It seemed such a terrible thing to happen," said Mrs.
