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The Christie Affair(97)

Author:Nina de Gramont

‘What about several glances?’

She laughed and let go of his hand. They both sat and stared out the windscreen for several minutes. Then she said, ‘She’s still watching. The librarian. You’d better drive.’

Back at the Bellefort I had not gone upstairs to lie down, as I’d told Chilton, but only to change my clothes. Having made an appearance at the hotel, assuring the general public of my remaining presence in the world, I escaped from it again almost at once. The day had warmed. The rain had lifted. Solvitur ambulando. When I reached the Timeless Manor’s drive I ran the length of it.

‘Look what I found,’ Finbarr said, meeting me on the lawn outside, as if he’d known I would come straight back. It was a tennis net, rackets and balls. He set it up and we played two sets, me winning them both handily.

A big black car came sputtering up the drive. I lifted my hand to shade my eyes. There in the driver’s seat sat Mr Chilton. All the workings of my body halted. No breath to my lungs or blood from my heart. Agatha had been found. Was Chilton here to arrest Finbarr? All of us, for trespassing? Worst of all, regardless of what happened next, would this time come to an abrupt end, all of us returning to life as it had been unspooling?

Instead, Finbarr called out, as the two of them emerged from the automobile. Cheerful as you please, as if he’d known the man for ages, he said, ‘Do you play, Mr Chilton?’

And Chilton said, absolutely casual, ‘I did once or twice before the war. Afraid I’m a bit of a liability now.’ He indicated his bad arm.

‘It’s just for fun,’ Finbarr said.

Chilton nodded. He looked at me as though he’d fully expected to find me here. ‘Hello, Miss O’Dea.’ He pronounced the Miss pointedly.

‘I haven’t got an eye for balls,’ Agatha said. ‘I never had.’ Still, she went upstairs to change back into her men’s clothes. Finbarr, Chilton and I stood on the grass. I wanted to ask Chilton when he’d discovered Agatha, but something silenced me. I didn’t want to say anything, lest I break whatever spell allowed this to happen – all of us discovered, and yet not ruined. I felt a burst of love for Chilton, that he had found her and yet apparently had no intention of alerting the world.

‘It’s rather magical here,’ I said, instead of posing any questions.

‘Indeed it is,’ Chilton agreed.

Agatha returned. Since I was the best player, I took Chilton as my partner. For once I held back on my need to win, letting Chilton swing at balls I could easily have reached. Despite her disclaimer, Agatha played quite nicely. All the upper-crust girls were passable at tennis. The four of us played while our hands reddened and chapped along with our cheeks. But the same magic that brought us all here together without spelling disaster seemed to keep us warm enough, half-dead tennis balls tossed in the air, scores called out, the pop and whack of slicing rackets.

How long did we play? How does one measure time in a place where time has vanished? At some point the shaggy dog from down the road leaped out from the bushes. He stole our ball in mid play, running off with it, and though we could easily have given it up for lost Finbarr and I re-enacted our youth by chasing after him, calling to him, running in mad circles until the dog tired and dropped the ball at Finbarr’s feet. The two of us collapsed in a laughing heap, ruffling the dog’s fur and letting him lick our chins. Finbarr scooped up the ball and stood.

‘Make a wish.’

He could see from my face. I knew how this game worked. You can declare a wish granted but that doesn’t make it so. He dropped the ball, the laughter gone. Finbarr’s magic powers had their limits, and they were fatal ones. I looked off, into the trees, not ready to face the broken spell.

By the time we thought to look around us, Agatha and Chilton were gone.

In silent agreement they had walked up to the top floor, where Agatha lay down on the bed she hadn’t bothered to make that morning, used as she was to someone else performing that task. Chilton rekindled the fire, then lay down beside her. She did not object. Nothing real existed. It was a span out of time. No consequences. She acknowledged what she ought to be feeling – the rekindled romance between Finbarr and me could represent her road back to Archie. Instead, she felt something different and altogether more liberating.

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