Tuppence. I'm very fond of Tuppence. She's a nice girl, always was and still is.'
'Hardly a girl,' said Tommy.
'Now don't say that of your wife. Don't get in that habit. One in a thousand, she is. But I'm sorry for someone who has her in the picture sleuthing him down. She's probably out on the hunt today.'
'I don't think she is. More likely gone to tea with an elderly lady.'
'Ah well. Elderly ladies can sometimes give you useful information. Elderly ladies and children of five years old. All the unlikely people come out sometimes with a truth nobody had ever dreamed of. I could tell you things -'
'I'm sure you could, Colonel.'
'Ah well, one mustn't give away secrets.'
Colonel Atkinson shook his head.
On his way home Tommy stared out of the railway carriage window and watched the rapidly retreating countryside. 'I wonder,' he said to himself, 'I really wonder. That old boy, he's usually in the know. Knows things. But what can there be that could matter now. It's all in the past - I mean there's nothing, can't be anything left from that war. Not nowadays.' Then he wondered. New ideas had taken over - Common Market ideas. Somewhere, as it were behind his mind rather than in it, because there were grandsons and nephews, new generations - younger members of families that had always meant something, that had pull, had got positions of influence, of power because they were born who they were and if by any chance they were not loyal, they could be approached, could believe in new creeds or in old creeds revived, whichever way you liked to think of it. England was in a funny state, a different state from what it had been. Or was it really always in the same state? Always underneath the smooth surface there was some black mud. There wasn't clear water down to the pebbles, down to the shells, lying on the bottom of the sea. There was something moving, something sluggish somewhere, something that had to be found, suppressed. But surely not - surely not in a place like Hollowquay. Hollowquay was a has-been if there ever was. Developed first as a fishing village and then further developed as an English Riviera - and now a mere summer resort, crowded in August. Most people now preferred package trips abroad.
'Well,' said Tuppence, as she left the dinner table that night and went into the other room to drink coffee, 'was it fun or not fun? How were all the old boys?'
'Oh, very much the old boys,' said Tommy. 'How was your old lady?'
'Oh the piano tuner came,' said Tuppence, 'and it rained in the afternoon so I didn't see her. Rather a pity, the old lady might have said some things that were interesting.'
'My old boy did,' said Tommy. 'I was quite surprised. What do you think of this place really, Tuppence?'
'Do you mean the house?'
'No, I don't mean the house. I think I mean Hollowquay.'
'Well, I think it's a nice place.'
'What do you mean by nice?'
'Well, it's a good word really. It's a word one usually despises, but I don't know why one should. I suppose a place that's nice is a place where things don't happen and you don't want them to happen. You're glad they don't.'
'Ah. That's because of our age, I suppose.'
'No, I don't think it's because of that. It's because it's nice to know there are places where things don't happen. Though I must say something nearly happened today.'
'What do you mean by nearly happened? Have you been doing anything silly, Tuppence?'
'No, of course I haven't.'
'Then what do you mean?'
'I mean that pane of glass at the top of the greenhouse, you know, it was trembling the other day a bit, had the twitches. Well it practically came down on my head. Might have cut me to bits.'
'It doesn't seem to have cut you to bits,' said Tommy looking at her. '
'No. I was lucky. But still, it made me jump rather.'
'Oh, we'll have to get our old boy who comes and does things, what's-his-name? Isaac, isn't it? Have to get him to look at some of the other panes - I mean, we don't want you being done in,
'Hardly a girl,' said Tommy.
'Now don't say that of your wife. Don't get in that habit. One in a thousand, she is. But I'm sorry for someone who has her in the picture sleuthing him down. She's probably out on the hunt today.'
'I don't think she is. More likely gone to tea with an elderly lady.'
'Ah well. Elderly ladies can sometimes give you useful information. Elderly ladies and children of five years old. All the unlikely people come out sometimes with a truth nobody had ever dreamed of. I could tell you things -'
'I'm sure you could, Colonel.'
'Ah well, one mustn't give away secrets.'
Colonel Atkinson shook his head.
On his way home Tommy stared out of the railway carriage window and watched the rapidly retreating countryside. 'I wonder,' he said to himself, 'I really wonder. That old boy, he's usually in the know. Knows things. But what can there be that could matter now. It's all in the past - I mean there's nothing, can't be anything left from that war. Not nowadays.' Then he wondered. New ideas had taken over - Common Market ideas. Somewhere, as it were behind his mind rather than in it, because there were grandsons and nephews, new generations - younger members of families that had always meant something, that had pull, had got positions of influence, of power because they were born who they were and if by any chance they were not loyal, they could be approached, could believe in new creeds or in old creeds revived, whichever way you liked to think of it. England was in a funny state, a different state from what it had been. Or was it really always in the same state? Always underneath the smooth surface there was some black mud. There wasn't clear water down to the pebbles, down to the shells, lying on the bottom of the sea. There was something moving, something sluggish somewhere, something that had to be found, suppressed. But surely not - surely not in a place like Hollowquay. Hollowquay was a has-been if there ever was. Developed first as a fishing village and then further developed as an English Riviera - and now a mere summer resort, crowded in August. Most people now preferred package trips abroad.
'Well,' said Tuppence, as she left the dinner table that night and went into the other room to drink coffee, 'was it fun or not fun? How were all the old boys?'
'Oh, very much the old boys,' said Tommy. 'How was your old lady?'
'Oh the piano tuner came,' said Tuppence, 'and it rained in the afternoon so I didn't see her. Rather a pity, the old lady might have said some things that were interesting.'
'My old boy did,' said Tommy. 'I was quite surprised. What do you think of this place really, Tuppence?'
'Do you mean the house?'
'No, I don't mean the house. I think I mean Hollowquay.'
'Well, I think it's a nice place.'
'What do you mean by nice?'
'Well, it's a good word really. It's a word one usually despises, but I don't know why one should. I suppose a place that's nice is a place where things don't happen and you don't want them to happen. You're glad they don't.'
'Ah. That's because of our age, I suppose.'
'No, I don't think it's because of that. It's because it's nice to know there are places where things don't happen. Though I must say something nearly happened today.'
'What do you mean by nearly happened? Have you been doing anything silly, Tuppence?'
'No, of course I haven't.'
'Then what do you mean?'
'I mean that pane of glass at the top of the greenhouse, you know, it was trembling the other day a bit, had the twitches. Well it practically came down on my head. Might have cut me to bits.'
'It doesn't seem to have cut you to bits,' said Tommy looking at her. '
'No. I was lucky. But still, it made me jump rather.'
'Oh, we'll have to get our old boy who comes and does things, what's-his-name? Isaac, isn't it? Have to get him to look at some of the other panes - I mean, we don't want you being done in,
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