long-distance sight was good (as many of her neighbours knew to their cost in the village of St Mary Mead) and she saw very clearly the dark handsome face of Stephen Restarick as he stood facing Gina, talking eagerly. Gina’s face she could not see, since the girl had her back to them, but there was no mistaking the expression in Stephen Restarick’s face.
‘It isn’t any business of mine,’ said Miss Marple, ‘but I suppose you realize, Carrie Louise, that he’s in love with her.’
‘Oh no—’ Carrie Louise looked troubled. ‘Oh no, I do hope not.’
‘You were always up in the clouds, Carrie Louise. There’s not the least doubt about it.’
Before Mrs Serrocold could say anything, her husband came in from the hall carrying some open letters in his hand.
Lewis Serrocold was a short man, not particularly impressive in appearance, but with a personality that immediately marked him out. Ruth had once said of him that he was more like a dynamo than a human being. He usually concentrated entirely on what was immediately occupying his attention and paid no attention to the objects or persons who were surrounding them.
‘A bad blow, dearest,’ he said. ‘That boy, Jackie Flint. Back at his tricks again. And I really did think he meant to go straight this time if he got a proper chance. He was most earnest about it. You know we found he’d always been keen on railways—and both Maverick and I thought that if he got a job on the railways he’d stick to it and make good. But it’s the same story. Petty thieving from the parcels office. Not even stuff he could want or sell. That shows that it must be psychological. We haven’t really got to the root of the trouble. But I’m not giving up.’
‘Lewis—this is my old friend, Jane Marple.’
‘Oh how d’you do,’ said Mr Serrocold absently. ‘So glad—they’ll prosecute, of course. A nice lad, too, not too many brains, but a really nice boy. Unspeakable home he came from. I—’
He suddenly broke off, and the dynamo was switched on to the guest.
‘Why, Miss Marple, I’m so delighted you’ve come to stay with us for a while. It will make such a great difference to Caroline to have a friend of old days with whom she can exchange memories. She has in many ways a grim time here—so much sadness in the stories of these poor children. We do hope you’ll stay with us a very long time.’
Miss Marple felt the magnetism and realized how attractive it would have been to her friend. That Lewis Serrocold was a man who would always put causes before people she did not doubt for a moment. It might have irritated some women, but not Carrie Louise.
Lewis Serrocold sorted out another letter.
‘At any rate we’ve some good news. This is from the Wiltshire and Somerset Bank. Young Morris is doing extremely well. They’re thoroughly satisfied with him and in fact are promoting him next month. I always knew that all he needed was responsibility—that, and a thorough grasp of the handling of money and what it means.’
He turned to Miss Marple.
‘Half these boys don’t know what money is. It represents to them going to the pictures or to the dogs, or buying cigarettes—and they’re clever with figures and find it exciting to juggle them round. Well, I believe in—what shall I say?—rubbing their noses in the stuff—train them in accountancy, in figures—show them the whole inner romance of money, so to speak. Give them skill and then responsibility—let them handle it officially. Our greatest successes have been that way—only two out of thirty-eight have let us down. One’s head cashier in a firm of druggists—a really responsible position—’
He broke off to say: ‘Tea’s in, dearest,’ to his wife.
‘I thought we were having it here. I told Jolly.’
‘No, it’s in the Hall. The others are there.’
‘I thought they were all going to be out.’
Carrie Louise linked her arm through Miss Marple’s and they went into the Great Hall. Tea seemed a rather incongruous meal in its surroundings. The tea things were piled haphazard on a tray—white utility cups mixed with the remnants of what had been Rockingham and Spode tea services. There was a loaf of bread, two pots of jam, and some cheap and unwholesome-looking cakes.
A plump middle-aged woman with grey hair sat behind the tea table and Mrs Serrocold said:
‘This is Mildred, Jane. My daughter Mildred. You haven’t seen her since she was a tiny girl.’
Mildred Strete was the person most in tune with the house that Miss Marple had so far seen. She looked prosperous and dignified. She had married late in her thirties a Canon of the Church of England and was now a widow. She looked exactly like a Canon’s widow, respectable and slightly dull. She was a plain woman with a large unexpressive face and dull eyes. She had been, Miss Marple reflected, a very plain little girl.
‘And this is Wally Hudd—Gina’s husband.’
Wally was a big young man with hair brushed up on his head and a sulky expression. He nodded awkwardly and went on cramming cake into his mouth.
Presently Gina came in with Stephen Restarick. They were both very animated.
‘Gina’s got a wonderful idea for that backcloth,’ said Stephen. ‘You know, Gina, you’ve got a very definite flair for theatrical designing.’
Gina laughed and looked pleased. Edgar Lawson came in and sat down by Lewis Serrocold. When Gina spoke to him, he made a pretence of not answering.
Miss Marple found it all a little bewildering and was glad to go to her room and lie down after tea.
There were more people still at dinner, a young Dr Maverick who was either a psychiatrist or a psychologist—Miss Marple was rather hazy about the difference—and whose conversation, dealing almost entirely with the jargon of his trade, was practically unintelligible to her. There were also two spectacled young men who held posts on the teaching side, and a Mr Baumgarten, who was an occupational therapist, and three intensely bashful youths who were doing their ‘house guest’ week. One of them, a fair–haired lad with very blue eyes was, Gina informed her in a whisper, the expert with the ‘cosh’.
The meal was not a particularly appetizing one. It was indifferently cooked and indifferently served. A variety of costumes were worn. Miss Bellever wore a high black dress, Mildred Strete wore evening dress and a woollen cardigan over it. Carrie Louise had on a short dress of grey wool—Gina was resplendent in a kind of peasant get up. Wally had not changed, nor had Stephen Restarick, Edgar Lawson had on a neat dark blue suit. Lewis Serrocold wore the conventional dinner jacket. He ate very little and hardly seemed to notice what was on his plate.
After dinner Lewis Serrocold and Dr Maverick went away to the latter’s office. The occupational therapist and the schoolmasters went away to some lair of their own. The three ‘cases’ went back to the college. Gina and Stephen went to the theatre to discuss Gina’s idea for a set. Mildred knitted an indeterminate garment and Miss Bellever darned socks. Wally sat in a chair gently tilted backwards and stared into space. Carrie Louise
