Chapter 21 Chapter 21

There's nothing that tells Philip Durant that this day is any different than any other. Little did he know that this day would completely determine his future. He wakes up healthy and refreshed.The sun, the pale autumn sun, shines on the windows.Kirsty's phone message for him lifted his spirits even more. "Tina is coming for tea," he told Mary when she brought in his breakfast. "Really? Oh, yes, of course, she's off this afternoon, isn't she?" Mary looked preoccupied. "What's the matter, Polly?" "nothing." She helped him scrape off the top layer of his egg.Immediately he felt angry.

"I can still use my hand, Polly." "Oh, I thought it would save you trouble." "How old do you think I am? Six?" She was slightly surprised.Then she said abruptly: "Hester is coming home today." "Really?" he mumbled, because his mind was full of plans for Tina.Then he saw his wife's expression. "For heaven's sake, Polly, do you think I have any guilty feelings for that girl?" She turned her head to the side. "You always said she was cute." "She's very cute. If you like a beautiful figure and extraordinary temperament."

He added dryly: "But I'm not a womanizer, am I?" "You probably wish you were." "Don't be ridiculous, Polly. I never knew you had such a tendency to be jealous." "You know nothing about me." He began to argue, but then paused.It occurred to him, in shock, that maybe he didn't know Mary well enough. She continued: "I want you to be mine—all to myself. I want no one else in the world but you and me." "We have nothing to say, Polly." He spoke briskly, but felt uncomfortable inside.The bright morning seemed suddenly darkened.

She said, "Let's go home, Philip, please let's go home." "We'll be back soon, but not yet. Things are coming. As I told you, Tina is coming this afternoon." He went on, hoping her mind would turn to the new channel: "I Great hopes for Tina." "In what way?" "What does Tina know.", "You mean—about the murder?" "Yes," "but how could she? She wasn't even here that night." "I'm skeptical. I thought, you know, she's here. Strange little things help. That servant, Mrs. Nareko—the tall one, she told me something."

"What did she tell you?" "Village gossip. Mrs. So-and-so or Ernie—no—Cyril. He had to go to the police station with his mother. What did he see the night poor Mrs. Argyle was killed." "What did he see?" "Oh, this Mrs. Narrick is pretty vague. She hasn't asked Mrs. So-and-so. But it's a guess, isn't it, Polly? Cyril isn't in the room, so he must be What was seen outside. That gives us two theories. He saw Michael or he saw Tina. I guess Tina came here that night." "She probably already said so." "Not necessarily. Tina probably knew what not to say. Let's say she drove out that night. Maybe she came in and found your mother dead." Each "and walked away without saying anything? Bullshit. "

"There may be a reason...she may have seen or heard something that made her think she knew who did it." "She never liked Jack very much. I'm sure she wouldn't try to defend him." "Then maybe it wasn't Jack that she suspected...but never, when Jack was arrested, she thought what she suspected was all wrong. She said she wasn't here and she followed through. But now, of course, it's different. " Mary said impatiently: "You're just imagining things, Philip. You're imagining things that can't be true." "Very likely. I'm going to try and get Tina to tell me what she knows."

"I don't believe she knows anything. Do you really think she knows who did it?" "I wouldn't think of it to the point where I think she either saw—or heard—something. I'm going to find out what it is." "Tina won't tell you if she doesn't want to." "Yes, I agree. And she's pretty tight-lipped. And she's got a poker face and never shows any emotion. But she's not really a good liar—not as good a liar as you are, say... I The best way is to guess. Ask her with my guess. Let her answer yes or no, and you know what will happen? It will be one of three things. She will answer yes-that is.Or she will Say no—then I'll know if she's telling the truth since she's not a good liar. Or she'll refuse to answer with her poker face—then, Polly, it'll be as good as saying yes. Say Well, you must admit that my technique is possible."

"Oh, don't meddle, Fee! Really don't meddle! It'll all settle down and be forgotten." "No. This has to be figured out. Otherwise Hester will jump out of the window and Kirsty will have a nervous breakdown. Leo is frozen like a stalactite. As for poor Gwenda, she is deciding to accept A job in Rhodesia." "What does it matter how they are?" "No one else matters but us—is that what you mean?" , His face was serious and angry.Mary was startled.She had never seen her husband look like this before. She confronted him defiantly. "Why should I care about other people?" she asked.

"You never cared. Did you?" "I do not understand what you mean." Philip gave a sudden, angry sigh.He pushed his plate of breakfast aside. "Take this away. I won't eat it." "But Philip—" He made an impatient gesture.Mary picked up the tray and went out the door.Philip turned the wheelchair to the desk.Pen in hand, he stared out the window.He felt a strange mental oppression.Not so long ago he was so excited.Now he feels restless. But then he perked up again.He quickly wrote two sheets of paper.Then he leaned back in his wheelchair, thinking.

This makes sense.It was possible, but he wasn't entirely satisfied.Did he really find the right way?He couldn't be sure.Motivation, motivation is so horribly lacking.He overlooked a certain factor. He sighed impatiently.He couldn't wait for Tina to arrive.If only this matter could be figured out.It's just that they understand, that's all they need.Once they know -- then they're all free.Get out of this atmosphere of doubt, helplessness, and suffocation.They, all but one, could go on with their own lives.He and Mary would go home and— His thoughts stopped.The excitement faded again.He faces his own problems.He didn't want to go home...he thought of the perfection of the house, the shiny brass, the spotless chintz.A clean, bright, well-maintained cage!And he was in the cage, tied to death in a wheelchair, surrounded by his wife's care.

His wife... when he thought of his wife, he seemed to see two people.One is the woman he married, with blond hair and blue eyes, gentle and reserved.It was the woman he loved, the woman he teased and she stared at him with a bewildered frown.This was his Polly.But there was another Mary—a Mary as hard as brass and lustful but without normal love—a Mary who didn't matter to anyone but herself.Even he is important because he is hers. A French poem flashed through his mind—how was it written? "Everything is her subsidiary spoils..." And this Mary he did not love.Behind those cold blue eyes Mary was a stranger—a stranger he didn't know... Then he laughed at himself.Like everyone else in the room, he was getting nervous and overwrought.He remembered that his mother-in-law had talked to him about his wife.About that sweet little blonde girl in New York.About the little girl putting her arms around her neck and yelling, "I want to stay with you. I don't want to leave you!" That's true love, isn't it?But—how unlike Mary, will she change so much when she was a child and when she grows up?How difficult, almost impossible, was it for Mary to tell her true feelings, to show her true feelings? But then of course—his thoughts stopped.Or, is it really that simple?Not real love - just a calculation, a means to an end, a deliberate display of affection.What can Mary do to get what she wants? Almost anything can be done, he thought - and was shocked that he thought of it himself. He threw down his pen angrily, turned his wheelchair out of the living room and into the next bedroom. He turned the wheelchair to the comb table.He picked up the comb and brushed back the hair that had fallen on his forehead.His own face made himself look foreign. Who am I, he thought, where am I going?Some thoughts he had never thought about before... He came to the window and looked out.Below, a day-servant woman stands outside the kitchen window talking to someone in the kitchen.Their voices floated towards him with a gentle local accent... His eyes were wide open, as if entering a dreamland. A voice from the next room woke him up from his contemplation.He turned the wheelchair and came to the connecting door. Gwenda Fern was standing at the desk.She turned to face him, and he was taken aback by her haggard face in the morning light. "Dark, Gwenda." "Hi, Philip. Leo thinks you might want to read the London Book." "Oh, thanks." "It's a nice room," said Gwenda, looking around. "I can't believe I've been here before." "Quite a royal suite, isn't it?" said Philip. "Keep away from anyone. Ideal for the sick and honeymooning couples." He wished he hadn't said the last few words, but it was too late.The muscles on Sister Guan's face trembled. "I have to go to work," she said vaguely. "The perfect secretary." "Not even that now, I made a mistake." "Don't we all make mistakes?" he added deliberately, "When will you and Leo get married?" "We probably never will." "That's really wrong," said Philip. "Leo thinks it might raise a bad rap—the police!" Her voice was resentful. "Fuck it, Gwenda, there's got to be some risk!" "I am willing to take the risk," Gwenda said. "I've never cared for a risk. I'd bet on my happiness. But Leo—" "How is it? Leo?" "Leo," said Gwenda, "maybe in death he will be the husband of Rachel Argyle as he was in life." The angry look in her eyes startled him. "She might as well be alive," Gwenda said. "She's here—in this room—until..."