Chapter 4 Chapter 4 Helen

Gwenda gazed at Miss Marple for a moment, then pushed back her hair from her forehead. "Why should I say that?" she said. "Why do you say Helen? I don't know any Helen!" She put her hand down with a look of desperation. "You know," she said, "I'm crazy! I'm delusional! I'm trying to understand things that don't exist. It was just wallpaper at first—but now it's dead bodies. So I'm getting worse and worse." "Don't jump to conclusions now, my dear—" "Either it's this house. This house is haunted—or witchcraft or something. . . . I see something is going on there—or I see something is going to happen there—will It would be worse. Maybe some woman named Helen was going to be killed there... But I don't understand, if the house is haunted, why do I still see these horrible things after I leave it? Things. So I really think I must be going crazy. I'd better see a psychiatrist right away—this morning."

"Well, of course, Gwenda, dear, you can do that when you have nothing else to do. But I myself always think it best to find the simplest and most common explanation first. Let me put the facts of events Clean it up. There are three things that really bother you: a path in the garden that's been planted with trees but you feel like it's a path; a door that's been filled with bricks and you can accurately wallpaper that you can imagine in detail. Am I right?" "correct." "Well, the easiest and most natural explanation would be: you've seen them before."

"You mean, in my previous life?" "Oh, no, dear. I mean this life. I mean, they might be actual memories." "But, a month ago, I had never been to England, Miss Marple." "Are you sure, dear?" "Of course I'm sure. I've always lived near Christchurch, New Zealand." "Were you born there?" "No, I was born in India. My father was an officer in the British Army. My mother died a year or two after I was born. My father sent me back to New Zealand to be raised by her family. A few years Then he himself died." "You don't remember the journey from India to New Zealand?"

"Not all, what I remember is very vague, it was in a small boat. It had a round window--a hatch, I think. There was a man in a white uniform with a red face and blue eyes. He had a scar on his chin—a scar, I think. He used to lift me up in the air all of a sudden. I remember being half scared and half happy. But it was all broken pieces." "Do you remember a nurse--or a wet nurse?" "Not the nanny—Nannie. I remember Nanny because she lived with us for a while—until I was five. She cut ducks out of paper. Yes, she was on the boat. When I cried, she still Rebuke me because the captain kisses me, and I don't like his beard."

"That's very funny, you know, my dear, because you got two different voyages mixed up. One had a captain with a beard, and the other had a—red face and a scar on his chin." "Yes," Gwenda mused, "I think I must be confused." "It seems to me," said Miss Marple, "that your father first brought you to England when your mother died, and that you actually lived in this house——Hilsedry, you Remember, you told me that the house felt as if it were your home the moment you entered it. The room you chose as your bedroom might be your nursery—” "It's a nursery house with bars on the windows." "Did you see that? It had this gorgeous paper with alternating cornflowers and poppies on it. The kids' memories of the walls of their nursery room were Very strong. I haven't forgotten the fuchsia pansies on the wall of my nursery, and I still believe it resurfaced when I was only three years old."

"Is that why, when I see these toys, I immediately think of doll's houses and toy cupboards?" "Yes. And the bathroom. There is a mahogany tub around it. You told me once that when you saw it you thought of ducks swimming in it." Gwenda mused: "Really, I seem to recognize things in every place at once - cupboards and linen cupboards, and I always thought there was a door from the living room to the dining room. But, I really can't be coming To England and actually buy a house like the one I lived in long ago?" "That's impossible, my dear. It's just a very strange coincidence—strange coincidences do happen. Your husband needs a house on the South Bank. You're looking for one, and You pick a house that sparks your memory and it fascinates you. It's the right size and price, so you buy it. No, it's not absolutely impossible. Is the house exactly as stated? It's a haunted house, I think, and you'll get mixed reactions. You told me that, except for the one time you looked into the hall when you started down the stairs, you didn't No strong or disgusted feelings have been experienced."

There was something frightening again in Gwenda's eyes. she says: "You mean - that - Helen - is also true?" Miss Marple said very gently: "Well, that's what I think, my dear.... I think we have to face the fact that if anything else is a memory, it's a memory..." "Then I really saw someone killed--strangled--lying there dead?" "I don't think you had any clear idea that she was strangled. It's just that last night's scene was set up to fit your grown-up idea of ​​what a blue twitching face must be. I think, A very young child, going downstairs, will understand violence, death, and misfortune, and associate them with a string of words—because I think there is no doubt that the murderer will actually say those words. For a child , it's a very strong shock. Kids are weird little guys. If they're frightened enough. Especially when they're frightened by something they don't understand, they won't talk about it. They'll keep it secret. On the surface , perhaps they forgot it; but the memory remains ingrained."

Gwenda took a deep breath. "So, you think that's what happened to me? But why can't I remember anything now?" "It's impossible for a person to remember that well. Often things are, when you try to recall it, the memory drifts further away. But I think there's always a sign or two that something must have happened. Like, before you tell now When I told you about your experience in the theater last night, you used an obvious turn of phrase. You said you seemed to be looking down 'through the balustrades' - but you know, people usually just look through the balustrade Looking down from above, you don’t look down through the railing posts. Only children look down through the posts.”

"You're very clever," said Gwenda very appreciatively. "These little things are very important." "But who is Helen?" asked Gwenda, puzzled. "Tell me, dear, are you still quite sure it's Helen?" "Yeah....very weird because all I know is 'Helen' - but at the same time, I really know - I mean I know it's 'Helen' lying there... how do I go about finding out more How many cases?" "Oh, I think the most obvious thing is to find out for sure if you ever lived in London when you were a kid, and maybe you probably did. Your relatives—"

Gwenda interrupted. "Aunt Allison. She'll know, I'm sure." "Then I'll write her a letter and send it by air. Or send an evening post to tell her that something has happened which urgently requires knowing whether you have ever lived in England. When your husband arrives here, You might get an answer by airmail." "Oh, thank you, Miss Marple. You're very kind. I hope you're right. Because, if that's the case, well, well! I mean, there won't be any incredible It's over." Miss Marple smiled and said: "I hope so. I want to go to the North of England the day after tomorrow, and stay with some old friends of mine. I shall return here via London in ten days. If you are here with your husband then, or if you take When I get a reply, I'd like to know the result."

"Of course, dear Miss Marple: anyway, I want you to meet Giles. He's a perfect baby. And we'll have a good time discussing the - the whole thing." Gwenda is now fully recovered. Miss Marple, however, seemed to be thinking about something.