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 17 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 on either side of it.
She left the car outside Laurel Cottage and went in. A thin, energetic woman with grey 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. Grey 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 over-cluttered 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, real 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 Oliver. ‘I understand that they thought it was a suicide pact.’
‘I don’t believe that,’ said Mrs Buckle. ‘I’m sure they’d never have committed suicide together. Not people like that. And living so pleasantly together as they did. Of course, they hadn’t lived there very long.’
‘No, I suppose they hadn’t,’ said Mrs Oliver. ‘They lived somewhere near Bournemouth, didn’t they, when they first came to England?’
‘Yes, but they found it was a bit too far for getting to London from there, and so that’s why they came to Chipping Bartram. Very nice house it was, and a nice garden.’
‘Were they both in good health when you were working for them last?’
‘Well, he felt his age a bit as most people do. The General, he’d had some kind of heart trouble or a slight stroke. Something of that kind, you know. They’d take pills, you know, and lie up a bit from time to time.’
‘And Lady Ravenscroft?’
‘Well, I think she missed the life she’d had abroad, you know. They didn’t know so very many people there, although they got to
‘Oh well, some other time,’ said Mrs Oliver. ‘Anyway, I can’t quite remember – was it number 17 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 on either side of it.
She left the car outside Laurel Cottage and went in. A thin, energetic woman with grey 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. Grey 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 over-cluttered 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, real 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 Oliver. ‘I understand that they thought it was a suicide pact.’
‘I don’t believe that,’ said Mrs Buckle. ‘I’m sure they’d never have committed suicide together. Not people like that. And living so pleasantly together as they did. Of course, they hadn’t lived there very long.’
‘No, I suppose they hadn’t,’ said Mrs Oliver. ‘They lived somewhere near Bournemouth, didn’t they, when they first came to England?’
‘Yes, but they found it was a bit too far for getting to London from there, and so that’s why they came to Chipping Bartram. Very nice house it was, and a nice garden.’
‘Were they both in good health when you were working for them last?’
‘Well, he felt his age a bit as most people do. The General, he’d had some kind of heart trouble or a slight stroke. Something of that kind, you know. They’d take pills, you know, and lie up a bit from time to time.’
‘And Lady Ravenscroft?’
‘Well, I think she missed the life she’d had abroad, you know. They didn’t know so very many people there, although they got to
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