some significance, perhaps, in the various names that were found for Caroline Louise Serrocold? Was she to all of them a symbol and not quite a real person?
When on the following morning Carrie Louise, dragging her feet a little as she walked, came and sat down on the garden seat beside her friend and asked her what she was thinking about, Miss Marple replied promptly:
'You, Carrie Louise.'
'What about me?'
'Tell me honestly - is there anything here that worries you?'
'Worries me?' The woman raised wondering clear blue eyes. 'But Jane, what should worry me?'
'Well, most of us have worries.' Miss Marple's eyes twinkled a little. 'I have. Slugs, you know - and the difficulty of getting linen properly darned - and not being able to get sugar candy for making my damson gin. Oh, lots of little things - it seems unnatural that you shouldn't have any worries at all.'
'I suppose I must have really,' said Mrs Serrocold vaguely. 'Lewis works too hard, and Stephen forgets his meals slaving at the theatre, and Gina is very jumpy - but I've never been able to alter people - I don't see how you can. So it wouldn't be any good worrying, would it?'
'Mildred's not very happy, either, is she?'
'Oh no,' said Carrie Louise. 'Mildred never is happy. She wasn't as a child. Quite unlike Pippa, who was always radiant.'
'Perhaps,' suggested Miss Marple, 'Mildred had cause not to be happy?'
Carrie Louise said quietly:
'Because of being jealous? Yes, I daresay. But people don't really need a cause for feeling what they do feel. They're just made that way. Don't you think so, Jane?'
Miss Marple thought briefly of Miss Moncrieff, a slave to a tyrannical invalid mother. Poor Miss Moncrieff who longed for travel and to see the world. And of how St Mary Mead in a decorous way had rejoiced when Mrs Moncrieff was laid in the churchyard and Miss Moncrieff, with a nice little income, was free at last. And of how Miss Moncrieff, starting on her travels, had got no farther than Paris where, calling to see one of mother's oldest friends, she had been so moved by the plight of an elderly hypochondriac that she had cancelled her travel reservations and taken up her abode in the villa to be bullied, over-worked, and to long wistfully, once more, for the joys of a wider horizon.
Miss Marple said:
'I expect you're right, Carrie Louise.'
'Of course my being so free from cares is partly due to Jolly. Dear Jolly. She came to me when Johnnie and I were just married and was wonderful from the first. She takes care of me as though I were a baby and quite helpless. She'd do anything for me. I feel quite ashamed sometimes. I really believe Jolly would murder someone for me, Jane. Isn't that an awful thing to say?'
'She's certainly very devoted,' agreed Miss Marple.
'She gets so indignant.' Mrs Serrocold's silvery laugh rang out. 'She'd like me to be always ordering wonderful clothes, and surrounding myself with luxuries, and she thinks everybody ought to put me first and to dance attendance on me. She's the one person who's absolutely unimpressed by Lewis's enthusiasm. All our poor boys are in her view pampered young criminals and not worth taking trouble over. She thinks this place is damp and bad for my rheumatism, and that I ought to go to Egypt or somewhere warm and dry.'
'Do you suffer much from rheumatism?'
'It's got much worse lately. I find it difficult to walk. Horrid cramps in my legs. Oh well -' again there came that bewitching elfin smile, 'age must tell.'
Miss Bellever came out of the french windows and hurried across to them.
'A telegram, Cara, just come over the telephone. Arriving this afternoon, Christian Gulbrandsen.'
'Christian?' Carrie Louise looked very surprised. 'I'd no idea he was in England.'
'The oak suite, I suppose?'
'Yes, please, Jolly. Then there will be no stairs.'
Miss Bellever nodded and turned back to the house.
'Christian Gulbrandsen is my stepson,' said Carrie Louise. 'Eric's eldest son. Actually he's two years
When on the following morning Carrie Louise, dragging her feet a little as she walked, came and sat down on the garden seat beside her friend and asked her what she was thinking about, Miss Marple replied promptly:
'You, Carrie Louise.'
'What about me?'
'Tell me honestly - is there anything here that worries you?'
'Worries me?' The woman raised wondering clear blue eyes. 'But Jane, what should worry me?'
'Well, most of us have worries.' Miss Marple's eyes twinkled a little. 'I have. Slugs, you know - and the difficulty of getting linen properly darned - and not being able to get sugar candy for making my damson gin. Oh, lots of little things - it seems unnatural that you shouldn't have any worries at all.'
'I suppose I must have really,' said Mrs Serrocold vaguely. 'Lewis works too hard, and Stephen forgets his meals slaving at the theatre, and Gina is very jumpy - but I've never been able to alter people - I don't see how you can. So it wouldn't be any good worrying, would it?'
'Mildred's not very happy, either, is she?'
'Oh no,' said Carrie Louise. 'Mildred never is happy. She wasn't as a child. Quite unlike Pippa, who was always radiant.'
'Perhaps,' suggested Miss Marple, 'Mildred had cause not to be happy?'
Carrie Louise said quietly:
'Because of being jealous? Yes, I daresay. But people don't really need a cause for feeling what they do feel. They're just made that way. Don't you think so, Jane?'
Miss Marple thought briefly of Miss Moncrieff, a slave to a tyrannical invalid mother. Poor Miss Moncrieff who longed for travel and to see the world. And of how St Mary Mead in a decorous way had rejoiced when Mrs Moncrieff was laid in the churchyard and Miss Moncrieff, with a nice little income, was free at last. And of how Miss Moncrieff, starting on her travels, had got no farther than Paris where, calling to see one of mother's oldest friends, she had been so moved by the plight of an elderly hypochondriac that she had cancelled her travel reservations and taken up her abode in the villa to be bullied, over-worked, and to long wistfully, once more, for the joys of a wider horizon.
Miss Marple said:
'I expect you're right, Carrie Louise.'
'Of course my being so free from cares is partly due to Jolly. Dear Jolly. She came to me when Johnnie and I were just married and was wonderful from the first. She takes care of me as though I were a baby and quite helpless. She'd do anything for me. I feel quite ashamed sometimes. I really believe Jolly would murder someone for me, Jane. Isn't that an awful thing to say?'
'She's certainly very devoted,' agreed Miss Marple.
'She gets so indignant.' Mrs Serrocold's silvery laugh rang out. 'She'd like me to be always ordering wonderful clothes, and surrounding myself with luxuries, and she thinks everybody ought to put me first and to dance attendance on me. She's the one person who's absolutely unimpressed by Lewis's enthusiasm. All our poor boys are in her view pampered young criminals and not worth taking trouble over. She thinks this place is damp and bad for my rheumatism, and that I ought to go to Egypt or somewhere warm and dry.'
'Do you suffer much from rheumatism?'
'It's got much worse lately. I find it difficult to walk. Horrid cramps in my legs. Oh well -' again there came that bewitching elfin smile, 'age must tell.'
Miss Bellever came out of the french windows and hurried across to them.
'A telegram, Cara, just come over the telephone. Arriving this afternoon, Christian Gulbrandsen.'
'Christian?' Carrie Louise looked very surprised. 'I'd no idea he was in England.'
'The oak suite, I suppose?'
'Yes, please, Jolly. Then there will be no stairs.'
Miss Bellever nodded and turned back to the house.
'Christian Gulbrandsen is my stepson,' said Carrie Louise. 'Eric's eldest son. Actually he's two years
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