Towards Zero by Agatha Christie Read Free Book Online

“Devoted wife watches her husband slash his way to victory!”
    Kay started.
    “How you startled me! I didn't know you were there.”
    “I am always there. You should know that by this time.”
    Ted Latimer was twenty-five and extremely good-looking - even though unsympathetic old colonels were wont to say of him: “Touch of the Dago!”
    He was dark and beautifully sunburnt and a wonderful dancer.
    His dark eyes could be very eloquent, and he managed his voice with the assurance of an actor. Kay had known him since she was fifteen. They had oiled and sunned themselves at Juan les Pins, had danced together and played tennis together. They had been not only friends but allies.
    Young Merrick was serving from the left-hand court. Nevile's return was unplayable, a superb shot to the extreme corner.
    “Nevile's backhand is good,” said Ted. “It's better than his forehand. Merrick's weak on the backhand and Nevile knows it. He's going to pound at it all he knows how.”
    The game ended. “Four-three - Strange leads.”
    He took the next game on his service. Young Merrick was hitting out wildly.
    “Five-three.”
    “Good for Nevile,” said Latimer.
    And then the boy pulled himself together. His play became cautious. He varied the pace of his shots.
    “He's got a head on him,” said Ted. “And his footwork is first class. It's going to be a fight.”
    Slowly the boy pulled up to five-all. They went to seven-all, and Merrick finally won the match at nine-seven.
    Nevile came up to the net, grinning and shaking his head ruefully, to shake hands.
    “Youth tells,” said Ted Latimer. “Nineteen against thirty-three. But I can tell you the reason, Kay, why Nevile has never been actual championship class. He's too good a loser.”
    “Nonsense.”
    “It isn't. Nevile, blast him, is always the complete good sportsman. I've never seen him lose his temper over losing a match.”
    “Of course not,” said Kay. “People don't.”
    “Oh, yes, they do! We've all seen them. Tennis stars who give way to nerves -and who damn well snatch every advantage. But old Nevile - he's always ready to take the count and grin. Let the best man win, and all that. God, how I hate the public school spirit! Thank the Lord I never went to one.”
    Kay turned her head.
    “Being rather spiteful, aren't you?”
    “Positively feline!”
    “I wish you wouldn't make it so clear you don't like Nevile.”
    “Why should I like him? He pinched my girl.”
    His eyes lingered on her.
    “I wasn't your girl. Circumstances forbade.”
    “Quite so. Not even the proverbial tuppence a year between us.”
    “Shut up. I fell in love with Nevile and married him -”
    “And he's a jolly good fellow - and so say all of us!”
    “Are you trying to annoy me?”
    She turned her head as she asked the question. He smiled - and presently she returned his smile.
    “How's the summer going, Kay?”
    “So, so. Lovely yachting trip. I'm rather tired of all this tennis business.”
    “How long have you got of it? Another month?”
    “Yes. Then in September we go to Gull's Point for a fortnight.”
    “I shall be at the Easterhead Bay Hotel,” said Ted. “I've booked my room.”
    “It's going to be a lovely party!” said Kay. “Nevile and I, and Nevile's Ex, and some Malayan planter who's home on leave.”
    “That does sound hilarious!”
    “And the dowdy cousin, of course. Slaving away round that unpleasant old woman - and she won't get anything for it, either, since the money comes to me and Nevile.”
    “Perhaps,” said Ted, “she doesn't know that?” “That would be rather funny,” said Kay.
    But she spoke absently. She stared down at the racquet she was twiddling in her hands. She caught her breath suddenly.
    “Oh, Ted!”
    “What's the matter, Sugar?”
    “I don't know. It's just sometimes I get -I get cold feet! I get scared and feel queer.”
    “That doesn't sound like you, Kay.”
    “It doesn't, does it? Anyway,” she smiled rather