The Clocks

‘The trouble is,’ she said, ‘when people keep cats in that way-fourteen, she’s got-they get absolutely besotted about them. And it’s all a lot of nonsense. I like cats. We used to have a cat ourselves, a tabby. Very good mouser, too. But all the fuss that woman makes, cooking special food-hardly ever letting the poor things out to have a life of their own. Of course the cats are always trying to escape. I would, if I was one of those cats. And the boys are very good really, they wouldn’t torment a cat in any way. What I say is cats can always take care of themselves very well. They’re very sensible animals, cats, that is if they are treated sensibly.’

‘I’m sure you’re quite right,’ said the inspector. ‘You must have a busy life,’ he went on, ‘keeping those boys of yours amused and fed during the holidays. When are they going back to school?’

‘The day after tomorrow,’ said Mrs Ramsay.

‘I hope you’ll have a good rest then.’

‘I mean to treat myself to a real lazy time,’ she said.

The other young man who had been silently taking down notes, startled her a little by speaking.

‘You ought to have one of those foreign girls,’ he said. ‘Au pair, don’t they call it, come and do chores here in return for learning English.’ 

‘I suppose I might try something of that kind,’ said Mrs Ramsay, considering, ‘though I always feel that foreigners may be difficult. My husband laughs at me. But then of course he knows more about it than I do. I haven’t travelled abroad as much as he has.’

‘He’s away now, isn’t he?’ said Hardcastle.

‘Yes-he had to go to Sweden at the beginning of August. He’s a constructional engineer. A pity he had to go just then-at the beginning of the holidays, too. He’s so good with the children. He really likes playing with electric trains more than the boys do. Sometimes the lines and the marshalling yards and everything go right across the hall and into the other room. It’s very difficult not to fall over them.’ She shook her head. ‘Men are such children,’ she said indulgently.

‘When do you expect him back, Mrs Ramsay?’

‘I never know.’ She sighed. ‘It makes it rather-difficult.’ There was a tremor in her voice. Colin looked at her keenly.

‘We mustn’t take up more of your time, Mrs Ramsay.’

Hardcastle rose to his feet.

‘Perhaps your boys will show us the garden?’

Bill and Ted were waiting in the hall and fell in with the suggestion immediately.

‘Of course,’ said Bill apologetically, ‘it isn’t a verybig garden.’

There had been some slight effort made to keep the garden of No. 62, Wilbraham Crescent in reasonable order. On one side there was a border of dahlias and Michaelmas daisies. Then a small lawn somewhat unevenly mown. The paths badly needed hoeing, models of aeroplanes, space guns and other representations of modern science lay about, looking slightly the worse for wear. At the end of the garden was an apple tree with pleasant-looking red apples on it. Next to it was a pear tree.

‘That’sit,’ said Ted, pointing at the space between the apple and the pear, through which the back of Miss Pebmarsh’s house showed clearly. ‘That’s Number 19 where the murder was.’

‘Got quite a good view of the house, haven’t you,’ said the inspector. ‘Better still, I expect, from the upstairs windows.’

‘That’s right,’ said Bill. ‘If only we’d been up there yesterday looking out, we might have seen something. But we didn’t.’

‘We were at the cinema,’ said Ted.

‘Were there fingerprints?’ asked Bill.

‘Not very helpful ones. Were you out in the garden at all yesterday?’

‘Oh, yes, off and on,’ said Bill. ‘All the morning, that is. We didn’t hear anything, though, or see anything.’

‘If we’d been there in the afternoon we might have heard screams,’ said Ted, wistfully. ‘Awful screams there were.’

‘Do you know Miss Pebmarsh, the lady who owns that house, by sight?’

The boys looked at each other, then nodded.

‘She’s blind,’ said Ted, ‘but she can walk around the garden all right. Doesn’t have to walk with a stick or anything like that. She threw a ball back to us once. Quite nice about it she was.’

‘You didn’t see her at all yesterday?’

The boys shook their heads.

‘We wouldn’t see her in the morning. She’s always out,’ Bill explained. ‘She usually comes out in the garden after tea.’

Colin was exploring a line of hosepipe which was attached to a tap in the house. It ran along the garden path and was laid down in the corner near the pear tree.

‘Never knew that pear trees needed watering,’ he remarked.

‘Oh, that,’ said Bill. He looked slightly embarrassed.

‘On the other hand,’ said Colin, ‘if you climbed up in this tree.’ He looked at both boys and grinned suddenly. ‘You could get a very nice little line of water to play on a cat, couldn’t you?’

Both boys scuffled the gravel with their feet and looked in every other direction but at Colin. 

‘That’s what you do, isn’t it?’ said Colin.

‘Aw, well,’ said Bill, ‘it doesn’t hurt ’em. It’s not,’ he said with an air of virtue, ‘like a catapult.’

‘I suppose you used to use a catapult at one time.’