The Mirror Crack'd: from Side to Side by Agatha Christie

Mrs. Badcock,” boomed the man in livery.
    â€œMrs. Badcock,” said the vicar, turning back, lemonade in his hand, “the indefatigable secretary of the association. She’s one of our hardest workers. In fact I don’t know what the St. John would do without her.”
    â€œI’m sure you’ve been wonderful,” said Marina.
    â€œYou don’t remember me?” said Heather, in an arch manner. “How should you, with all the hundreds of people you meet. And anyway, it was years ago. In Bermuda of all places in the world. I was there with one of our ambulance units. Oh, it’s a long time ago now.”
    â€œOf course,” said Marina Gregg, once more all charm and smiles.
    â€œI remember it all so well,” said Mrs. Badcock. “I was thrilled, you know, absolutely thrilled. I was only a girl at the time. To think there was a chance of seeing Marina Gregg in the flesh—oh! I was a mad fan of yours always.”
    â€œIt’s too kind of you, really too kind of you,” said Marina sweetly, her eyes beginning to hover faintly over Heather’s shoulder towards the next arrivals.
    â€œI’m not going to detain you,” said Heather—“but I must—”
    â€œPoor Marina Gregg,” said Mrs. Bantry to herself. “I suppose this kind of thing is always happening to her! The patience they need!”
    Heather was continuing in a determined manner with her story.
    Mrs. Allcock breathed heavily at Mrs. Bantry’s shoulder.
    â€œThe changes they’ve made here! You wouldn’t believe till you saw for yourself. What it must have cost ….”
    â€œI—didn’t feel really ill—and I thought I just must—”
    â€œThis is vodka,” Mrs. Allcock regarded her glass suspiciously. “Mr. Rudd asked if I’d like to try it. Sounds very Russian. I don’t think I like it very much….”
    â€œâ€”I said to myself: I won’t be beaten! I put a lot of makeup on my face—”
    â€œI suppose it would be rude if I just put it down somewhere.” Mrs. Allcock sounded desperate.
    Mrs. Bantry reassured her gently.
    â€œNot at all. Vodka ought really to be thrown straight down the throat”—Mrs. Allcock looked startled—“but that needs practice. Put it down on the table and get yourself a Martini from that tray the butler’s carrying.”
    She turned back to hear Heather Badcock’s triumphant peroration.
    â€œI’ve never forgotten how wonderful you were that day. It was a hundred times worth it.”
    Marina’s response was this time not so automatic. Her eyes which had wavered over Heather Badcock’s shoulder, now seemed to be fixed on the wall midway up the stairs. She was staring and there was something so ghastly in her expression that Mrs. Bantry half took a step forward. Was the woman going to faint? What on earth could she be seeing that gave her that basilisk look? But before she could reach Marina’s side the latter had recovered herself. Hereyes, vague and unfocussed, returned to Heather and the charm of manner was turned on once more, albeit a shade mechanically.
    â€œWhat a nice little story. Now, what will you have to drink? Jason! A cocktail?”
    â€œWell, really I usually have a lemonade or orange juice.”
    â€œYou must have something better than that,” said Marina. “This is a feast day, remember.”
    â€œLet me persuade you to an American daiquiri,” said Jason, appearing with a couple in his hand. “They’re Marina’s favourites, too.”
    He handed one to his wife.
    â€œI shouldn’t drink anymore,” said Marina, “I’ve had three already.” But she accepted the glass.
    Heather took her drink from Jason. Marina turned away to meet the next person who was arriving.
    Mrs. Bantry said to Mrs. Allcock, “Let’s go and see the bathrooms.”
    â€œOh, do you