Dont be silly, Joyce, said Miss Whittaker, the school-teacher.
I did, said Joyce.
Did you really? asked Cathie, gazing at Joyce with wide eyes, really and truly see a murder?
Of course she didnt, said Mrs Drake. Dont say silly things, Joyce.
I did see a murder, said Joyce. I did. I did. I did.
A seventeen-year-old boy poised on a ladder looked down interestedly.
What kind of a murder? he asked.
I dont believe it, said Beatrice.
Of course not, said Cathies mother. Shes just making it up.
Im not. I saw it.
Why didnt you go to the police about it? asked Cathie.
Because I didnt know it was a murder when I saw it. It wasnt really till a long time afterwards, I mean, that I began to know that it was a murder. Something that somebody said only about a month or two ago suddenly made me think: Of course, that was a murder I saw.
You see, said Ann, shes making it all up. Its nonsense.
When did it happen? asked Beatrice.
Years ago, said Joyce. I was quite young at the time, she added.
Who murdered who? said Beatrice.
I shant tell any of you, said Joyce. Youre all so horrid about it.
Miss Lee came in with another kind of bucket. Conversation shifted to a comparison of buckets or plastic pails as most suitable for the sport of bobbing for apples. The majority of the helpers repaired to the library for an appraisal on the spot . Some of the younger members, it may be said, were anxious to demonstrate, by a rehearsal of the difficulties and their own accomplishment in the sport. Hair got wet, water got spilt, towels were sent for to mop it up. In the end it was decided that a galvanized bucket was preferable to the more meretricious charms of a plastic pail which overturned rather too easily.
Mrs Oliver, setting down a bowl of apples which she had carried in to replenish the store required for tomorrow, once more helped herself to one.
I read in the paper that you were fond of eating apples, the accusing voice of Ann or Susanshe was not quite sure whichspoke to her.
Its my besetting sin, said Mrs Oliver.
It would be more fun if it was melons, objected one of the boys. Theyre so juicy. Think of the mess it would make, he said, surveying the carpet with pleasurable anticipation.
Mrs Oliver, feeling a little guilty at the public arraignment of greediness, left the room in search of a particular apartment, the geography of which is usually fairly easily identified. She went up the staircase and, turning the corner on the half landing, cannoned into a pair, a girl and a boy, clasped in each others arms and leaning against the door which Mrs Oliver felt fairly certain was the door to the room to which she herself was anxious to gain access. The couple paid no attention to her. Тhey sighed and they snuggled. Mrs Oliver wondered how old they were. The boy was fifteen, perhaps, the girl little more than twelve, although the development of her chest seemed certainly on the mature side.
Apple trees was a house of fair size. It had, she thought, several agreeable nooks and corners. How selfish people are, thought Mrs Oliver. No consideration for others. that well-known tag from the past came into her mind. It had been said to her in succession by a nursemaid, a nanny,
a governess, her grandmother, two great-aunts, her mother and a few others.
Excuse me, said Mrs Oliver in a loud, clear voice.
Тhe boy and the girl clung closer than ever, their lips fastened on each others.
Excuse me, said Mrs Oliver again, do you mind letting me pass? I want to get in at this door.
Unwillingly the couple fell apart. They looked at her in an aggrieved fashion. Mrs Oliver went in, banged the door and shot the bolt.
It was not a very close fitting door. The faint sound of words came to her from outside.
Isnt that like people? one voice said in a somewhat uncertain tenor. They might see we didnt want to be disturbed.
People are so selfish, piped a girls voice. They never think of anyone but themselves.
No consideration for others, said the boys voice.
CHAPTER 2
What about teenage parties? said Judith.
I dont know much about them, said Mrs Oliver.
In one way, said Judith, I think theyre probably least trouble of all. I mean, they just throw all of us adults out. And say theyll do it all themselves.
And do they?
Well, not in our sense of the word, said Judith. They forget to order some of the things, and order a lot of other things that nobody likes. Having turfed us out, then they say there were things we ought to have provided for them to find. They break a lot of glasses, and other things, and theres always somebody undesirable or who brings an undesirable friend. You know the sort of thing. Peculiar drugs andwhat do they call it?Flower Pot or Purple Hemp or L.S.D. , which I always have thought just meant money; but apparently it doesnt.