The Burden by writing as Mary Westmacott Agatha Christie

I’m a beast. But you always seem so against – Henry.’
    â€˜It’s because I feel he’s selfish.’ Laura repeated the words she had used to Mr Baldock. ‘He isn’t – he isn’t – kind . I can’t help feeling that in some ways he could be – ruthless.’
    â€˜Ruthless,’ Shirley repeated the word thoughtfully without any symptom of distress. ‘Yes, Laura, in a way you’re right. Henry could be ruthless.’
    She added: ‘It’s one of those things that attracts me in him.’
    â€˜But think – if you were ill – in trouble – would he look after you?’
    â€˜I don’t know that I’m so keen on being looked after. I can look after myself. And don’t worry about Henry. He loves me.’
    â€˜Love?’ thought Laura. ‘What is love? A young man’s thoughtless greedy passion? Is Henry’s love for her anything more than that? Or is it true, and am I jealous?’
    She disengaged herself gently from Shirley’s clinging arms and walked away deeply disturbed.
    â€˜Is it true that I don’t want her to marry anybody? Not just Henry? Anybody? I don’t think so now, but that’s because there is no one else she wants to marry. If someone else were to come along, should I feel the same way as I do now, saying to myself: Not him – not him ? Is it true that I love her too much? Baldy warned me … I love her too much, and so I don’t want her to marry – I don’t want her to go away – I want to keep her – never to let her go. What have I got against Henry really? Nothing. I don’t know him, I’ve never known him. He’s what he was at first – a stranger. All I do know is that he doesn’t like me. And perhaps he’s right not to like me.’
    On the following day, Laura met young Robin Grant coming out of the vicarage. He took his pipe out of his mouth, greeted her, and strolled beside her into the village. After mentioning that he had just come down from London, he remarked casually:
    â€˜Saw Henry last night. Having supper with a glamorous blonde. Very attentive. Mustn’t tell Shirley.’
    He gave a whinny of laughter.
    Although Laura recognized the information for exactly what it was, a piece of spite on Robin’s part, since he himself had been deeply attracted to Shirley, yet it gave her a qualm.
    Henry, she thought, was not a faithful type. She suspected that he and Shirley had come very near to a quarrel on the occasion when they had recently met. Supposing that Henry was becoming friendly with another girl? Supposing that Henry should break off the engagement …?
    â€˜That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?’ said the sneering voice of her thoughts. ‘You don’t want her to marry him. That’s the real reason you insisted on a long engagement, isn’t it? Come now!’
    But she wouldn’t really be pleased if Henry broke with Shirley. Shirley loved him. Shirley would suffer. If only she herself was sure, quite sure, that it was for Shirley’s good –
    â€˜What you mean,’ said the sneering voice, ‘is for your own good. You want to keep Shirley …’
    But she didn’t want to keep Shirley that way – not a heart-broken Shirley, not a Shirley unhappy and longing for her lover. Who was she to know what was best, or not best for Shirley?
    When she got home, Laura sat down and wrote a letter to Henry:
    â€˜Dear Henry,’ she wrote, ‘I have been thinking things over. If you and Shirley really want to marry, I don’t feel I ought to stand in your way …’
    A month later Shirley, in white satin and lace, was married to Henry in Bellbury parish church by the vicar (with a cold in his head) and given away by Mr Baldock in a morning coat very much too tight for him. A radiant bride hugged Laura goodbye, and Laura said fiercely to