Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 100, Nos. 4 & 5. Whole Nos. 603 & 604, October 1992

Mrs. Pratt. Joanna cursed silently. Mrs. Pratt, the widow who lived in the cottage on the cliff, and whose hobby was watching the affairs of the summer visitors at the bungalows, and forcibly making bosom friends of as many of them as she possibly could. Joanna was well aware that Mrs. Pratt’s small brown eyes had taken in every detail of the Corinne affair; scarcely a day had passed this week without her dropping in and trying with ill-concealed gusto to extract from Joanna some sort of reaction on the subject, which she could then pass on to the other bosom friends on her beat.

“There you are, my dear,” she said, popping her head archly round the door. “Hiding away from little me like this! I haven’t seen you all morning! Come on and tell me all your news. And — dear me—” appearing to notice Mrs. Trent for the first time “—this is...?”

“This is Mrs. Trent, my husband’s mother,” said Joanna stiffly. “Mother, this is Mrs. Pratt, a neighbour of ours.”

“Well,” said Mrs. Pratt. “How nice to meet you! It’ll be very nice for Joanna, I’m sure, to have a little company at last.” She waited, and as neither of her listeners responded to the shaft, she tried again.

“Where is Robert, my dear? Surely he is here this afternoon at least, when his mother has just arrived?”

“He’s gone to fetch the paraffin,” said Joanna coldly.

“The paraffin?

Surely, my dear, you must have made a mistake? They always deliver the paraffin. In those great drums — let me look.” Before Joanna could stop her, she was on her knees examining the paraffin drum in the corner of the room.

“It’s nearly full! What can your husband be thinking of! The poor, dear man, all that long hot walk for nothing! If I meet him, I’ll tell him how sorry I am.”

“I’m sure you will,” said Joanna icily. “And now, I’m afraid Mother and I are going to be very busy unpacking.”

Gently, she tried to edge Mrs. Pratt towards the door.

“Of course, of course, I don’t want to keep you. I just thought” — Mrs. Pratt lowered her voice ostentatiously — “I don’t want to cause any trouble, and I’m sure it’s all right really, but as I came along I couldn’t help seeing your husband sitting on the cliff among the bushes with that young woman from the hotel. Corinne, I think the name is. Corinne Fairbrother. Sitting side by side.” She paused. “Of course, I’m sure it’s all right. He must have just met her by chance, coming back with the paraffin. Though it’s a funny way to come back. Right out of his way, you’d have thought. Still, that must have been it. And he must have sat down for a bit of a rest. It’s a long walk, of course. I’m sure you’ve nothing to worry about, my dear. I’m sure it’s all right.”

“Yes, I’m sure it is,” said Joanna briskly. “Goodbye, Mrs. Pratt.” She allowed herself to slam the door, but only a little, because otherwise it would set the water pipe gurgling in that sinister way it had when it intended to produce nothing but a few brownish drops the next time you turned it on.

Turning back into the room, she noticed that her mother-in-law’s usually rosy face had gone quite pale.

“Corinne, did she say?” she asked anxiously. “Corinne Fair-brother? Then it must be Robert’s old girlfriend. The one you got him on the rebound from.”

Joanna nodded — though she felt that the thing could perhaps have been phrased more elegantly. Somewhat to her surprise — and certainly to her relief — Mrs. Trent asked no further questions either then or when, later, Robert arrived back, tired and somewhat wary, to be confronted with the news of the lost binoculars. Usually, he treated his mother’s absent-mindedness with tolerant amusement, teasing her over her little mishaps and making her laugh; but not this time. Under the cloud of his not unjustified displeasure, his mother’s usual flow of chatter was dried up at its source; and though Joanna did her best to keep some sort of a conversation going during the evening, it was uphill work; and in the end the uncomfortable silences were broken only by Polly, who had learned to make exactly the gurgling noises produced by the faulty water pipes when they were about to go wrong.

By bedtime, Joanna was at her wit’s end. If this was how it was going to be, then how on earth were they to get through the rest of the holiday? If only, she thought, Robert would at least pretend to be enjoying the company of his family; would make an effort, at least part of the time, to act the part of a loving husband and affectionate and dutiful son.

And up to a point, this was exactly what happened. The very next morning brought the news that the binoculars had turned up safe and sound, and this of course lightened the atmosphere considerably. Thereafter, Robert really did seem to be trying, intermittently, to please his womenfolk, honouring them with his company for at least a part of each day, and disappearing on implausible pretexts rather less frequently than before, and for rather shorter lengths of time.