Agatha Christie Fullscreen Mysterious enemy (1922)

Pause

“Rich relations?”

Again Tommy shook his head.

“Oh, Tommy, not even a great-aunt?”

“I’ve got an old uncle who’s more or less rolling, but he’s no good.”

“Why not?”

“Wanted to adopt me once. I refused.”

“I think I remember hearing about it,” said Tuppence slowly. “You refused because of your mother——”

Tommy flushed.

“Yes, it would have been a bit rough on the mater.

As you know, I was all she had.

Old boy hated her—wanted to get me away from her. Just a bit of spite.”

“Your mother’s dead, isn’t she?” said Tuppence gently.

Tommy nodded. Tuppence’s large grey eyes looked misty.

“You’re a good sort, Tommy. I always knew it.”

“Rot!” said Tommy hastily. “Well, that’s my position.

I’m just about desperate.”

“So am I!

I’ve hung out as long as I could.

I’ve touted round.

I’ve answered advertisements.

I’ve tried every mortal blessed thing.

I’ve screwed and saved and pinched!

But it’s no good.

I shall have to go home!”

“Don’t you want to?”

“Of course I don’t want to!

What’s the good of being sentimental?

Father’s a dear—I’m awfully fond of him—but you’ve no idea how I worry him!

He has that delightful early Victorian view that short skirts and smoking are immoral.

You can imagine what a thorn in the flesh I am to him!

He just heaved a sigh of relief when the war took me off.

You see, there are seven of us at home.

It’s awful!

All housework and mothers’ meetings!

I have always been the changeling.

I don’t want to go back, but—oh, Tommy, what else is there to do?”

Tommy shook his head sadly.

There was a silence, and then Tuppence burst out:

“Money, money, money!

I think about money morning, noon and night!

I dare say it’s mercenary of me, but there it is!”

“Same here,” agreed Tommy with feeling.

“I’ve thought over every imaginable way of getting it too,” continued Tuppence.

“There are only three! To be left it, to marry it, or to make it.

First is ruled out.

I haven’t got any rich elderly relatives.

Any relatives I have are in homes for decayed gentlewomen!

I always help old ladies over crossings, and pick up parcels for old gentlemen, in case they should turn out to be eccentric millionaires.

But not one of them has ever asked me my name—and quite a lot never said ‘Thank you.’”

There was a pause.