Jim's pretty fed up too. He had a first-class row with her last night. Just because we had The Messiah on a bit loud! You can't object to The Messiah, can you? I mean, it's religious.'
'Did she object?'
'She created something terrible, said Cherry. 'Banged on the wall and shouted and one thing and another.'
'Do you have to have your music turned on so loud?' asked Miss Marple.
'Jim likes it that way,' said Cherry. 'He says you don't get the tone unless you have full volume.'
'It might,' suggested Miss Marple, 'be a little trying for anyone if they weren't musical.'
'It's these houses being semi-detached,' said Cherry. 'Thin as anything, the walls. I'm not so keen really on all this new building, when you come to think of it. It looks all very prissy and nice but you can't express your personality without somebody being down on you like a ton of bricks.'
Miss Marple smiled at her.
'You've got a lot of personality to express, Cherry,' she said.
'D'you think so?' Cherry was pleased and she laughed. 'I wonder,' she began. Suddenly she looked embarrassed. She put down the tray and came back to the bed.
'I wonder if you'd think it cheek if I asked you something? I mean – you've only got to say 'out of the question' and that's that.'
'Something you want me to do?'
'Not quite. It's those rooms over the kitchen. They're never used nowadays, are they?'
'No.'
'Used to be a gardener and wife there once, so I heard. But that's old stuff. What I wondered – what Jim and I wondered – is if we could have them. Come and live here, I mean.'
Miss Marple stared at her in astonishment.
'But your beautiful new house in the Development?'
'We're both fed up with it. We like gadgets, but you can have gadgets anywhere – get them on H.P. and there would be a nice lot of room here, especially if Jim could have the room over the stables. He'd fix it up like new, and he could have all his construction models there, and wouldn't have to clear them away all the time. And if we had our stereogram there too, you'd hardly hear it.'
'Are you really serious about this, Cherry?'
'Yes, I am. Jim and I, we've talked about it a lot. Jim could fix things for you any time – you know, plumbing or a bit of carpentry, and I'd look after you every bit as well as your Miss Knight does. I know you think I'm a bit slap-dash – but I'd try and take trouble with the beds and the washing-up – and I'm getting quite a dab hand at cooking. Did Beef Stroganoff last night, it's quite easy, really.'
Miss Marple contemplated her.
Cherry was looking like an eager kitten – vitality and joy of life radiated from her. Miss Marple thought once more of faithful Florence. Faithful Florence would, of course, keep the house far better. (Miss Marple put no faith in Cherry's promise.) But she was at least sixty-five – perhaps more. And would she really want to be uprooted? She might accept that out of very real devotion for Miss Marple. But did Miss Marple really want sacrifices made for her? Wasn't she already suffering from Miss Knight's conscientious devotion to duty?
Cherry, however inadequate her housework, wanted to come. And she had qualities that to Miss Marple at this moment seemed of supreme importance.
Warm-heartedness, vitality, and a deep interest in everything that was going on.
'I don't want, of course,' said Cherry, 'to go behind Miss Knight's back in any way.'
'Never mind about Miss Knight,' said Miss Marple, coming to a decision. 'She'll go off to someone called Lady Conway at a hotel in Llandudno – and enjoy herself thoroughly. We'll have to settle a lot of details, Cherry, and I shall want to talk to your husband – but if you really think you'd be happy…'
'It'd suit us down to the ground,' said Cherry. 'And you really can rely on me doing things properly. I'll even use the dustpan and brush if you like.'
Miss Marple laughed at this supreme offer.
Cherry picked up the breakfast tray again.
'I must get cracking. I got here late this morning – hearing about poor Arthur Badcock.'
'Arthur Badcock? What happened to him?'
'Haven't you heard? He's up at the police-station now,' said Cherry. 'They asked him if he'd come and 'assist them with their inquiries' and you know what that always means.'
'When did this happen?' demanded Miss Marple.
'This morning,' said Cherry. 'I suppose,' she added, 'that it got out about his once having been married to Marina Gregg.'
'What!' Miss Marple sat up again. 'Arthur Badcock was once married to Marina Gregg?'
'That's the story,' said Cherry. 'Nobody had any idea of it. It was Mr Upshaw put it about. He's been to the States once or twice on business for his firm and so he knows a lot of gossip from over there. It was a long time ago, you know. Really before she'd begun her career. They were only married a year or two and then she won a film award and of course he wasn't good enough for her then, so they had one of these easy American divorces and he just faded out, as you might say. He's the fading out kind, Arthur Badcock. He wouldn't make a fuss. He changed his name and came back to England. It's all ever so long ago. You wouldn't think anything like that mattered nowadays, would you? Still, there it is. It's enough for the police to go on, I suppose.'
'Oh, no,' said Miss Marple. 'Oh no. This mustn't happen. If I could only think what to do – Now, let me see.' She made a gesture to Cherry. 'Take the tray away, Cherry, and send Miss Knight up to me. I'm going to get up.'
Cherry obeyed. Miss Marple dressed herself with fingers that fumbled slightly. It irritated her when she found excitement of any kind affecting her. She was just hooking up her dress when Miss Knight entered.
'Did you want me? Cherry said -'
Miss Marple broke in incisively.
'Get Inch,' she said.
'I beg your pardon,' said Miss Knight, startled.
'Inch,' said Miss Marple, 'get Inch. Telephone for him to come at once.'
'Oh, oh I see. You mean the taxi people. But his name's Roberts, isn't it?'
'To me,' said Miss Marple, 'he is Inch and always will be. But anyway get him. He's to come here at once.'
'You want to go for a little drive?'
'Just get him, can you?' said Miss Marple, 'and hurry, please.'
Miss Knight looked at her doubtfully and proceeded to do as she was told.
'We are feeling all right, dear, aren't we?' she said anxiously.
'We are both feeling very well,' said Miss Marple, 'and I am feeling particularly well. Inertia does not suit me, and never has. A practical course of action, that is what I have been wanting for a long time.'
'Has that Mrs Baker been saying something that has upset you?'
'Nothing has upset me,' said Miss Marple. 'I feel particularly well. I am annoyed with myself for being stupid. But really, until I got a hint from Dr Haydock this morning – now I wonder if I remember rightly. Where is that medical book of mine?' She gestured Miss Knight aside and walked firmly down the stairs. She found the book she wanted in a shelf in the drawing-room. Taking it out she looked up the index, murmured. 'Page 210,' turned to the page in question, read for a few moments then nodded her head, satisfied.
'Most remarkable,' she said, 'most curious. I don't suppose anybody would ever have thought of it. I didn't myself, until the two things came together, so to speak.'
Then she shook her head, and a little line appeared between her eyes. If only there was someone…
She went over in her mind the various accounts she had been given of that particular scene…
Her eyes widened in thought. There was someone – but would he, she wondered, be any good? One never knew with the vicar. He was quite unpredictable.
Nevertheless she went to the telephone and dialled.
'Good morning, Vicar, this is Miss Marple.'
'Oh, yes, Miss Marple – anything I can do for you?'
