Back at Home

I have been at home for about 10 days now. I went to buy some euros today as I decided I should probably at least make some effort to plan this trip to Frankfurt. I don't think I want to go anymore, I am going to be loads younger than anyone else and massively underqualified. At least if anyone asks me questions in the "discussion" parts I can look blankly at them and hide behind the fact I don't even have a maths degree. That or I will just burst into tears and run out of the room. That is of course provided I actually make it to where ever I am meant to be going- that will be barrier number 1. I think I will not think about it for a few more days and then panic about it the night before.

I am annoyed that all the episodes of Poirot have been removed from youtube, I don't really know what I'm expected to do now with my time. Luckily I have a contingency plan: ANGEL. So, having spent quite a few days watching back to back episodes of Angel (note: superior in every way to Buffy), interspersed with Die Hard 1, and turning into a nocturnal creature I decided that I would go for a run today. Obviously under the cover of darkness. I think I would rather risk being attacked than have people see me huffing and puffing after a slow jog lasting about 3 seconds. I managed to run for the grand total of how ever long it takes for my ipod to play "Be Prepared" from the Lion King twice. I really like that song, whenever I hear the part that says "and where do we feature?", "just listen to teacher" I always think of Severus Snape and it makes me laugh. Anyway, I don't think I'll be going for a run for a while again.

PART 3: Breakfast and a shooting party

Poirot looked into the mirror above the sink in this ensuite bathroom. He smoothed his moustache with the tips of his fingers, curling the ends carefully. As he regarded his reflection intently he thought back to the dinner of the previous night. “There iz something most strange about these people” be muttered to himself, closely observing the curl of his moustache. And with a final slight twitch of his nose he left his room and descended the elegant stairs to breakfast.

As he entered the breakfast room Miss Ruth greeted him, “Good morning Monsieur Poirot”
“Mademoiselle.” Poirot made a little bow in the direction of Miss Ruth.
“I trust you slept well?” enquired Lady Cheerton conversationally, pouring Poirot a cup of tea.
“Very well, I thank you,” replied Poirot, accepting the cup and tottering delicately over to an unoccupied seat where he ostentatiously shook out his napkin, sat down and tucked the napkin neatly over his chest in one fluid motion.

Next to him sat Dr Gangle, also with his napkin firmly attached to his chest. In front of him an empty plate.
“You are not eating monsieur?” enquired Poirot
“Oh yes, I’m just waiting ..” began Dr Gangle
“ For what my old bean?” asked Reverend Doctor Kerry Cheerton
“Well, the maid” responded Dr Gangle, apparently confused
At this words the Reverend Doctor Kerry Cheerton and Lady Cheerton burst into ringing laughter. Finally, dabbing a tear from her eye with a corner of her napkin Lady Cheerton spoke, “Breakfast is always self-service.”
“At least in Britain” said Professor Yorde, from the other side of the table
“If it’s good enough for the Queen, it’s good enough here at the Old Rectory” huffed the Reverend Doctor Kerry Cheerton.
“Of.. Of course” stuttered Dr Gangle, wringing his hands slightly and looking feverously down at his empty plate.
Poirot, suddenly thinking back to something which happened the night before, looked at Professor Yorde. He was staring, slightly open-mouthed at Dr Gangle, as if he had suddenly realised something.

At this moment Captain Severs entered the room, “Oh jolly good, breakfast,” he cried, smacking his lips together and rubbing his stomach in anticipation.

After a few more minutes of arrivals a quick scan of the room told Poirot that all the guests from dinner the night before were present except for the one notable absence: Patricia Fansmield.

The final arrival to breakfast was Dr Lilac. As soon as he entered Poirot noticed dark circles around his eyes. He hovered momentarily by the door looking nervous before taking a seat opposite Poirot. He seemed to twitch awkwardly and more than once Poirot saw his flinch slightly after making eye contact with Trevelyan, who sat at the other end of the table, cooling drinking from a cup of black coffee, no hint of discomfort on his impassive face.

“Are you quite well, Dr Lilac?” asked Dr Anne as she poured herself a cup of coffee and took the seat next to him.
“Oh yes, I am quite well. I thank you.” spluttered Dr Lilac. He had seemingly not noticed the arrival of Dr Anne, and jumped slightly.
Dr Anne looked at Dr Lilac, her eyes wide with concern. “John..,” she said in a low voice as she reached out her hand to place it on his forearm, but before she could he pulled his arm away violently simultaneously tugging his shirt sleeve roughly down over his wrist.
“John..?” Dr Anne repeated his name again, in the same low voice and this time Poirot detected a tiniest hint of desperation in her voice.
“Please, Dr Anne, I’m fine… really,” on his final word his voice relaxed, although he continued to clutch at the cuff of the left arm of his shirt.

Poirot looked across at Captain Severs, he had apparently noticed nothing of this rather odd behaviour and was tucking into a hearty portion of bacon, beans and scrambled eggs, “By Jove, I can’t even count the number of beans on my plate” he cried.
“That would be because you served them yourself” remarked Professor Yorde dryly, turning sharply to look at Dr Gangle, who immediately looked down at his now full plate and busied himself positioning food on his fork.

“I’ve arranged for a shooting party to go out after breakfast. Would you care to join us Mr Poirot?” asked Reverend Doctor Kerry Cheerton.
“Mais non monsieur, zee shooting, eet iz not for Poirot. I think I will stay and catch up on my reading.”
“I need to review my papers for the coming seminars, so I’m afraid I’ll have to give it a miss” said Professor Glasgow, draining his coffee cup and placing it unceremoniously back onto the table.
“Your loss,” said the Reverend Doctor Kerry Cheerton cheerfully.
“I also, regret I will not be a member of the party” said Professor Fansmield, “my wife… she feels… a little unwell this morning, and I must attend to her.” He spoke stiffly and there was no trace of concern or affection in his formal vernacular.
“Hangover” whispered Barrat loudly, to nobody in particular. Professor Fansmield shot him a filthy look but made no response.
“Of course” said Lady Cheerton hastily, smiling indulgently over at Professor Fansmield, who returned none of her friendliness and merely turned away.

“So, who exactly will be shooting with me today?” asked Reverend Doctor Kerry Cheerton, a little irritably, “Dr Lilac?”
At these words Barrat burst into uncontrollable laughter.
“Barrat, what is wrong with you this morning?” demanded Professor Glasgow.
“Oh nothing, nothing” said Barrat hastily, before lapsing once again into a fit of giggles, “I was just thinking that it would all depend on if you’re shooting-up by the woods.”
“Of course we’re shooting near the wood” cried Reverend Doctor Kerry Cheerton “What the devil’s the matter with you boy?”
Professor Glasgow glowered at Barrat, “I think you need to do some typing Barrat”
“Of course uncle, of course.” Barrat declined his head respectfully and with a wide grin minced from the room, apparently pleased with the minor disruption he had caused.

“Is he not shooting?” asked Lady Cheerton, tilting her head towards the doorway through which Barrat had just passed.
“Oh no, Barrat is far too delicate a boy for such things. I blame his mother, far too soft with the lad if you ask me,” said Professor Glasgow gruffly.

“And what would you know about parenting?” asked Miss Ruth pleasantly, her eyebrows raising slightly.
“Miss Ruth,” gasped Lady Cheerton, astonished.
“Oh, well… nothing, I suppose” said Professor Glasgow staring open-mouthed at her.
“My apologies Professor Glasgow, it was not my intention to be rude” continued Miss Ruth, still smiling amiably. Lady Cheerton nodded at her, satisfied.

“You have no children?” asked Professor Yorde, not raising his eyes from the newspaper he was staring intently at.
“I am not a parent, no” replied Professor Glasgow slowly, each word spoke with a decided deliberation.

There was a moments silence before the Reverend Doctor Kerry Cheerton blustered on. “So, who is coming? I can’t go alone. I need the...” Reverend Doctor Kerry Cheerton stopped suddenly. His wife regarded him through narrowed eyes, “company.. I need the company.”

“I’ll come” said Professor Yorde, setting down his coffee cup carefully next to his now empty plate.
“Captain Severs?” continued the Reverend Doctor Kerry Cheerton, looking questioningly towards the Captain.
“Oh yes, a spot of shooting would be top drawer Reverend,” replied Captain Severs, “I’ll go change directly.”
“I’ll be joining you too” said Dr Gangle.
“And I” said Professor Vector.
Poirot looked across at Professor Vector, who stood by the breakfast buffet and thought it very odd that he had not noticed him this whole breakfast time.
“I’ll give it a miss” drawled Trevelyan as the Reverend turned to look expectantly at him.

“Good, then it’s all settled” smiled Lady Cheerton, “I hope you gentlemen catch your prey.”

PART 2: A woman scorned

“Lady Cheerton tells me you are a nephew of zee great Professor Glasgow?” Poirot said to the young gentlemen on his left, whom Lady Cheerton had previously told him was Trevelyan.
“Oh yes, and you are quite right, he really is a wonderful mathematician. I can only hope one day to have half the success in research that he has had,” enthused Trevelyan as he leaned back in his chair removing the napkin from his chest.
“But of course, he iz most famous,” smiled Poirot.

“Mathematically… and otherwise,” interjected a wispy voice. Poirot looked to where the voice had come from.
“Barrat, another nephew of the great Professor Glasgow,” came the voice again. Barrat offered his hand to Poirot across Trevelyan, and as he did Poirot noticed that Trevelyan directed the smallest expression of distaste towards Barrat. Poirot took the offered hand, “A pleasure to meet you. But let me ask, “otherwise”? You intrigue me monsieur.”
Barrat opened his mouth to reply when Trevelyan cut in, “I think Barrat is merely referring to the pleasure our uncle takes in the travelling which being such an imminent mathematician affords. Is that not correct Barrat?”
Barrat bowed his head slightly taking up his wine glass and before taking a sip “Of course Trevelyan, as always you know exactly what I mean.”
Barrat and Trevelyan exchanged an indecipherable look, but before Poirot could comment further a small crash to his left caused him to turn.

To Poirot’s left sat Patricia Fansmield. Throughout the meal she had had her wine glass refilled more times than Poirot could remember and now, as the dessert dishes were being cleared away, the effects were certainly showing. She had, it seems, just knocked over her water glass as she had reached, blurry-eyed for one of the empty wine bottles in front of her. Poirot glanced across the table and caught Captain Severs’ eye. Captain Severs rolled his own and they exchanged a knowing look before resuming his conversation with Dr Lilac and Lady Cheerton.

“Paul. Pauuul!” Patricia slurred shrilly to her husband across the table, her head lolling to one sat and her drained wine glass precariously held in her hand. Poirot looked across to Professor Fansmield, who was engaged in conversation with Professor Glasgow and Dr Anne. Upon hearing his wife he looked up and wrinkled his brow. “Yes, dear” he replied through gritted teeth.
“Paul, will you please stop flirting so overtly with that woman!” Patricia jabbed the air roughly with the index finger of her free hand to indicate Dr Anne, who sat at her husband’s right hand side.
“Please Patricia, if anyone has cause to complain it is certainly not you,” hissed Professor Fansmield never shifting his gaze from his wife.
“I’ve had enough Paul” shrieked Patricia
“For once, I quite agree with you, my dear” responded Professor Fansmield, the tone of his voice remaining dangerously even.

The others at the table all shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Dr Anne appeared to be very much engrossed with her napkin, as she folded and unfolded it nervously in her lap. Professor Yorde had adopted a position not dissimilar to a statue- frozen and apparently under the impression that if he remained perfectly still he would get sucked into no argument.

Barrat, however, was staring at the scene with wide, hungry eyes. He appeared to be almost quivering with excitement at such an outburst. Miss Ruth looked equally as interested, while Professor Glasgow looked extremely uncomfortable. He had turned a deep puce colour and fidgeted constantly, periodically glancing nervously at Patricia- seemingly willing her to be quiet. If that was indeed what he was hoping, it did not happen.

“I don’t see why you have to sit next to her anyway,” continued Patricia.
“If you knew anything about the etiquette of dinner parties you would realise that it is not done for a husband to be seated on the same side of the table as his wife, let alone next to her.” There was a pause before Professor Fansmield added, “as much as he might dearly like to.”
“Well, please excuse me if I’m not as enormously well bred as you, my darling” retorted Patricia, her voice stiff with malice; the term of endearment which punctuated her sentence flew like a dagger through the air.


Professor Fansmield regarded his wife with a look of utter contempt and stood, throwing his napkin to the table, “if you’ll all excuse me, I need a cigarette” and he made a small bow in the direction of Lady Cheerton.

“I’ll join you if you don’t mind,” came the voice of Professor Glasgow.

“Sir, I most certainly do,” responded Professor Fansmield and with that he walked to the French windows and exited into the dark of the night.

Professor Glasgow turned an even darker shade of puce and signalled to the maid to replenish his glass.

A full second of silence engulfed the table before Lady Cheerton, clearing her throat spoke, “I think we ladies should leave the gentlemen to set the world to rights. We’ll take coffee in the parlour.” Everyone at the table rose, and the ladies left, Miss Ruth helping Patricia from the room as discreetly as she could manage.

“Well, quite, yes,” began the Reverend Doctor Kerry Cheerton once the ladies had left the room, “I think a good stiff drink is what everybody needs.” And he rose to pour large glasses of brandy for everyone, “leave the ladies to their coffee eh?” he chuckled.

The doors connecting the dining room to the drawing room were opened and the Reverend Doctor Kerry Cheerton, followed by Professor Glasgow and Professor Vector moved to seat themselves in old and comfortable looking green leather chairs.

Trevelyan excused himself to go for a cigarette and exited the room in a similar manner to Professor Fansmield, and was closely followed by Dr Lilac, “I think I’ll step out for a breath of fresh air, it is such a beautiful night after all.”

Poirot, Captain Severs, Barrat, Professor Yorde and Dr Gangle remained seating at the dining table.

“Nasty business all that,” commented Captain Severs
“Quite” added Dr Gangle
“Well, it’s only to be expected really” said Barrat
“Really?” said Captain Severs
“Oh yes,” asserted Barrat “it’s plain to anyone they’re not happily married and well, if rumours are to be believed…”
“Rumours?” inquired Dr Gangle, leaning in slightly.

Barrat’s face relaxed into a wide smile as he took a breath, “Word is, Patricia had an affair years and years ago, and well, they’ve never quite recovered.”
“I say, that would explain the Professor’s comment” opined Captain Severs
“But, then why iz eet she who is making zee accusations most wild?” asked Poirot, “eet does not make sense”
“And why was Professor Glasgow looking so damn shifty?” mused Captain Severs
“No, well, Professor Fansmield has since had his own assignations, all in the name of revenge and its left Patricia a bit…”
“Paranoid and consumed with resentment?” offered Captain Severs
“Exactly” smiled Barrat
“But if they do not love each other, why stay together?” asked Dr Gangle, “Surely it’s as simple as reciting A to zee… zed, I mean, zed.”
Barrat, Professor Yorde and Captain Severs looked at Dr Gangle. “But, my dear chap” began Professor Yorde, somewhat incredulously “it’s just not done to get a divorce, not in Britain!”
“Of course, of course, I.. momentarily forgot myself” said Dr Gangle hastily.

Poirot looked at Dr Gangle, he suddenly seemed very flustered.
“What part of the country did you say you were from?” asked Professor Yorde
“Oh, a little place called Englandshire,” Dr Gangl tapped his finger against his union jack shirt unconsciously.
“I see” murmured Professor Yorde.

“It would be better for her to just kill him” chuckled Barrat
“Ahh, but would she have it in her?” replied Dr Gangle, making an effort to recover himself.
Barrat giggled churlishly and took a deep drink from his glass. And before he could say another word a different voice spoke, a voice full of meaning,

“Oh yes, there is nothing more dangerous than a woman scorned.”

No one had noticed Professor Vector approach them from the drawing room, and the seriousness of his tone was a sharp contrast to the capricious tone Barrat had used and the gentlemen fell silent.