The week that went before Poirot's retreat crawled. At long last, though, Poirot was on a train, heading for Styles, St. Mary.
En route, he opened the brief case he carried , removing and re-reading his first journal and scribbling chapter notes for "Getting Started " It was merely a working title. Mrs. Oliver was the author after all. On the other hand, a title gave one a focal point. A place from which to begin.
By the time the train began to slow in its arrival into the train station, Poirot had packed up his writing and reading material and the steward came by to pick up his coffee cup. Seeing the shilling tip, the young man smiled and nodded his thanks.
"Do you live here, sir?" the young man, in, perhaps, his twenties posed the question.
"No. I do have dear friends who live here and they have invited me to their home for....." Poirot stopped talking to the steward and smiled and waved toward the window, to the man holding the child.
"Enjoy your stay in Styles, sir." the steward said.
"Merci!" Poirot replied just before opening the door of his train car. The steward stayed in the car of the train just long enough to see the little boy being let down by the man who held him. From there, the child, about four, ran to the man, who'd just disembarked from the train.
"Papa!"The boy wore denim cover-alls and white t-shirt that almost looked like something his dad wore golfing. Definitely a different look from the dressed up little chap who danced with Miss Lemon/ Mrs Bennett at her wedding.
In a single motion, Poirot set down his briefcase and swept the boy up. "My goodness, but you are getting so big! Are you certain you are the same little Aaron Hastings of a few weeks ago?"
The boy giggled and nodded. "Yup!"
"Let Papa put you down now, Aaron."
"No, no. That is all right, Hastings. If you would take for me the brief case. I will pick it up again when we get the luggage, and this little fella, he can walk."
"But I like when you pick me up, Papa Payrow!"
"And Papa Payrow ," Poirot parroted the pronunciation of his name. "he loves to pick you up. On the other hand, you are not the tiny bundle your mama brought into the world, four years past."
Aaron relented and allowed himself to be put down, where he got between the two men, his dad and adopted grandfather and held their hands all the way to the baggage area.
"It is true, Hastings. This little boy is growing so fast. What are you feeling him?"
"Oh! Weed fertilizer. Three meals a day." Hastings teased. "And for drink, quick drying cement. That would account for the weight."
Poirot chuckled as he found his roll-away suitcase and Hastings was relieved as well as surprised to see that there was only ONE suitcase, big as it was.
"May I carry your suitcase, Papa?" Aaron asked.
"I do not carry this, mon cher petit. It has the wheels. I pull this belt, and the baggage, it comes along."
Hastings was amazed at how indulgent and patient Poirot was being. He Helped Aaron slip his hand into the canvas belt and let him pull the luggage. The boy got five feet, if that before he declared, "It's heavy, Papa Payrow!"
The men chuckled and Poirot took the canvas strap from the boy. "See if you can carry the briefcase."
"I don't think Isabel will be too happy if this child comes home in a wheel chair or full body cast."
Hastings put down the briefcase for his son to pick up. To Hastings' surprise, Aaron was just able to lift it off the ground but not too high and not for long. With an exaggerated sigh, the boy slumped. "That's SOOO heavy!"
"When you get to be a big boy, tall like your dad, you will be able to lift the briefcase.But then you will have your own."
In the car, Hastings pointed out various spots which were not part of Styles' landscape when they were here, a whole lifetime ago.
"A cinema house. The grocery store to replace that little shop where you bought your chocolate and I bought my stamps. Aaron, your papa and I solved a mystery in our new house, ....how long ago now, Poirot?"
"I do not even want to think that far back, mon ami. However, I will say that your dad, Aaron, he was very helpful in solving the ...case."
"Yaaay!" the boy cheered from the back seat of the more spacious automobile than anything Hastings was known to have driven, in his bachelor days. "Do you solve cases now, dad?"
" 'Fraid not, kiddo. It's enough of a mystery to get weekend bookings organized."
"Do you still solve cases, Papa Payrow?" Aaron asked, paging through an alphabet book with illustrated animals.
"I am solving one last case before I retire."
"And then you will stay with us forever and ever?" The boy spread his arms wide.
Poirot glanced at Hastings who smiled. "You are welcome to stay as long as you like you know. See what you think when you see the place and how you like country living. We'll go from there."
Recalling the dream he had, days earlier, Hercule could only smile and nod. "Merci."
*****
By the time they passed the sign that told Poirot they were close, he could already tell that he was in for a very pleasant surprise. And he was not disappointed. In fact, he was astonished. Even the yard, that had been....passable all those ....DECADES ago were just about unrecognizable now. And in a good way. There were people out playing golf.
"Only nine holes, but it does the trick for most people. There are a few tricks to make it a bit more of a challenge."
"I beat you last weekend, right dad?"
Hastings smiled and shrugged. "He did, too. "
A little closer to the house, there were two tennis courts, fenced in. On the right side, people relaxed in chairs, reading or playing checkers. One section, not too big but enough to provide some companionship in addition to some privacy, was a place called The Rose Garden. Around a white picket fence, with a little gate two tables were carved out of trees and arranged on either side of a table that was a built in chess or checker board, or even a writing table. On the opposite side of the two chess/ checker tables was a little allotment for lovers of gardening. On the same side of the allotment were two benches.
Finally, the house!
Jumping out of the car, as soon as his dad parked with other cars, at the side of the building, Aaron grabbed his papa's hand and lead him up to the house.
"Papa Payrow! Hurry. Mum wants to see you."
Poirot was utterly captivated by the sight before him. The entire front 'wall' was now a window. "Don't let it scare you." Hastings said. "The window is tinted so it's pretty shady in there. All else failing, there are drapes."
As they headed into the house, it dawned on Poirot that the porch and porch swing didn't exist when he and Hastings were here, back when.
"That was Isabel's idea. More our little retreat of sorts but others use it, too." Hastings explained.
Entering the house, Poirot was amazed anew by the decor. The front room was a feast for the eyes. Two sets of sofas with complementing coffee tables. Easy chairs and side tables A wall full of books in a built in shelf that resembled, if you were far enough away to see it, a large book. At the far end of the room was a stone fire place. Unlit. In a cozy corner from the fire place were two full shelves of records and the latest in record players. Nothing was playing at the moment. Poirot figured it was something that came into use in the evening, after dinner when people were more interested in resting rather than milling around as they did now.
In the cozy, spacious common area, people sat and drank their coffees while reading. or mingling and chatting. And Hastings was right. Despite the brightness of the sun, it was not harshly bright on the eyes. Nor was it oppressively hot.
"Do you like it, Papa?" Aaron asked.
"Yes, dear one! In fact, I can hardly believe this is the same place your dad and I visited from so long ago."
"I'll bring in your suitcase in a bit, but perhaps you'd like something to eat first and I can show you what they did with the kitchen and dining room. John Cavendish was here a few months ago and he had a hard time believing it was the same place."
"How in the world was all of ....this accomplished in a mere year, mon ami? I am amazed!"
"Money and motivation. In that order. The people hired to do the work did want to see this place brought up rather than torn down and the benefactor made it worth their time. It's a source of pride to be able to contribute to the heritage of these places. "
Poirot was so taken with the place that he didn't even notice Aaron was gone until he came back with a few familiar faces in tow. Isabel greeted Poirot with a friendly kiss. Isabel was dressed a bit less formally than he'd seen her in the past. She wore blue jeans and one of her husband's old shirts. "I hope your trip was comfortable. Forgive the attire. Emily and I are getting the soil ready for the planting season."
Emily Japp, or Aunt Emmy as Aaron had taken to calling her, was likewise dressed with her salt and pepper hair done up in a kerchief. "Rhubarb!" she said. "Mr. Poirot, have you even had Rhubarb pie? It's a bit more tart than apple pie but it's very good with a bit of cinnamon, and then ice cream on top."
"That sounds lovely, Madame. But I'm guessing I will be waiting a few months for that pie."
"He'll be waiting even longer if he's waiting for me to bake it." Isabel teased. "I can work my way around the kitchen, but baking is just not a talent of mine. "
"Which is why I don't weigh three hundred pounds!" Hastings said. "That said, Aaron and I still have to show Mr. Poirot into the dining room and kitchen."
Again, Aaron took his Papa Payrow by the hand and lead him into the dining room, with its tables and chairs, some for single persons or two . Other table for small groups of four. There was a ...brightness, too, that Poirot compared to the environment of two decade plus gone by.
It was apparent their timing was not best placed as one of the staff was wiping down tables Still, Hastings commented that the 'mood' was a lot lighter and suitable to digestion, "than having a murderer sitting at the head of the table, scraping the last bit of food off the plate. I thought he was going to eat the pattern!"
"Do you speak of Alfred Inglethorp, Hastings?"
"Yes. Funny what you remember, even with the drastic changes to this place, but I can almost see him, sitting opposite his wife. You could cut the tension in that room with a butcher's knife! I much prefer this room to that look."
"May I see the kitchen or is there much activity going on?"
Before Hastings could answer, Aaron had brought back a woman from the kitchen. She was medium height with a chocolate brown complexion that reminded one of the head of the O'Hara household in Gone with the Wind. He had her by the hand and was just about dragging her.
"Paapa Payrow, this is Enid. She makes my favorite food."
"Payrow?" Enid puzzled for half a second. "Oh, for heaven's sake. Mr. Poirot! Hello! Captain Hastings said you were coming. Not to worry, I have your meals all ready in the warming oven. I hope you like Shepherd's Pie."
"If it tastes as lovely as this room smells, I am sure I will love it. Is that your favorite meal, little one?"
Aaron only shrugged. "I like macaroni and lots of cheese."
"I can't make macaroni every day, Aaron. People will get tired of it. Anyway, I'll get your table set up while your tour guide shows you the kitchen. "
Once a gain, Aaron had his papa by the hand and everyone followed behind. And again, Poirot was amazed by the improvements in the place. There were cupboards for dishes. a sideboard for the cutlery and coffee cups and saucers, and a large urn for the coffee. A long table for preparation. Under that prep table, in perfect placement, were the pots and roasters. Each size of pot to its place. Two large sinks for the washing of the pots and two commercial dish washers. and two large fridges. In addition, to the side of the room a walk in fridge for meats.
"I can tell you're impressed, Mr. Poirot." Isabel said.
"Impressed? I am jealous. I think this lady, she outstretches me in terms of the tidiness."
"Did I hear correctly?"
Following Enid into the kitchen, wearing work trousers with suspenders, a short sleeved t-shirt was James Japp, looking as far from a Scotland Yard detective as anyone could imagine, but quite healthy and smiling.
"You aren't sitting down at the lunch table looking like that, Paul Bunyan." Emily Japp playfully scolded.
"Yes, mum." Japp replied. "You're the second woman who's told me that in the last five seconds. Not to worry. I'll wash up. I just want to make sure I heard what I thought I heard, or if I'm in the first stages of sun stroke. Did you say, Poirot, that Enid outstretched you when it came to keeping a tidy kitchen?"
"Considering the number of people she has to cook for , then yes. Oui. Madame Enid, I believe Poirot, he has met his match."
*****
Lunch was quite enjoyable. During that time, Japp explained that he had been 'hired' as a weekend gardener. "I came to see what we could do to keep you ....out of trouble and I decided I like that place so I barter gardening services for a weekend out of London and it has worked out. quite agreeably for both of us."
"Do you get into trouble, Papa?" Aaron asked after taking a long drink of his milk. He'd eaten most of the Shepherd's pie but largely ignored the green beans on the same plate.
"I could tell you stories," Japp teased. Now dressed in an informal but clean shirt, replacing the one he had packed in a bag to put into separate luggage for the trip back to London and home.
"But you won't." Isabel said, smiling. "This boy's imagination is active enough."
****
For today anyway, Isabel Hastings didn't even think of trying to put her son down for his nap. 'Papa Payrow' was here and there was no way Aaron would stay put long enough to fall asleep. It was his Papa who hit upon a way to get him down for his nap without even mentioning the word.
"Now that I have seen just about every room in this home of yours, when are you going to show me your room, mon cher petit?"
Aaron laughed, "Papa, you're funny! I'm not a chair."
"That is true, and I did not call you a chair. I said you are my dear little one. Cher petit, it is French for dear little one. "
"Oh." Aaron wasn't so interested in learning a new language and he seemed less enthusiastic about anything. Hastings just about suggested a nap but stopped himself. What was it about kids and naps. He did warm to the idea of showing off his bedroom. It was, in fact, part of his parents' suite but designed to the loves of a little boy. And this little boy, like his dad, loved cars. Somewhere or somehow, Hastings found someone to build a miniature 'loft' bed for Aaron, where the safety frame was made to look like a car. LaGonda.
"Very nice indeed!" Aaron's papa declared, looking at the wall paper and the lamp. Even to the bedding, there was a running theme.
Picking up a few of his toys, Hastings put them in a chest and closed the lid.
"Would you like to hear a story of Master Detective Hastings and his trusty Poirot?"
Hastings looked at his friend and colleague. "Do I know this person?"
"It's you, dad!" Aaron declared as he sat in his bed. Isabel could tell he was about ready to drop off, but she didn't make a point of it. Instead she just listened to the story of her master detective husband.
"Oh, the Master Detective Arthur Hastings, he was up against it!" Poirot declared, capturing even Hastings' attention. "The rich man, Lord Edgeware, he is....harmed and no one can figure out how it happened. And then! Boom! The Master Detective Hastings, he figures it out, and almost by accident."
"How did you figure it out, dad?" Aaron asked, yawning and sliding his head onto his pillow.
Knowing his son would be out like a light soon, let Poirot carry on with the story. "You know, it's been so long, son, I can hardly remember. Would you care to remind me, trusty Poirot?" Hastings said with a smirk and chuckle.
"Bien Sür. You figure out by who left your luncheon first. AND by the way another person, he was ....harmed, and you cornered your prey. The woman who was so flattering. She caused the injuries." Poirot turned his attention back to Aaron. "And your dad, he..."
Hastings tapped Poirot on the shoulder and pointed to the bed. Aaron Hastings, who was listening in rapt attention, not five minutes earlier, was out like a light.
Hardly offended that his main 'audience' had dozed off, Poirot only smiled at the sleeping boy as his mom and dad kissed him goodnight. As Isabel closed the door, Hastings teased his former colleague, "Come on, my trusty Poirot. I'll buy you a coffee."
*****
By the time Aaron woke up, Hastings and Poirot had walked the grounds, discussing the matter of his staying on, should he like the surroundings. Japp met them half way and they ended up in the rose garden, as a young Chinese woman, with excellent English, greeted them. "I won't bother you, will I? I just want to get some of my flowers planted on time this year. Last year I put it off for too long and ....."
"Belly up?" Japp filled in.
" 'Fraid so. I won't be too much longer."
"No hurry, madameoiselle. We are just the longtime friends talking."
So the lady went on with her planting, gave her flowers some water out of a watering can, waved goodbye and headed for the house. A breeze blew her wide brimmed hat off but she grabbed it before had a chance to blow too far away. Poirot, especially, took in the scene; looking all about him, even as Japp talked on; attempting to persuade his longtime colleague that it was safer here than 'gadding about', looking for a hiding place.
"The Manchester Brotherhood, they're a nasty lot, no mistaking that. At the same time, they aren't idiots." Japp explained, sitting across from Poirot, with the built in chess set separating them. "I'm pretty sure I've mentioned this point before but it bears repeating. They aren't going to drive by this place and spray it with bullets, in hopes that one of the victims will be you. Not that they'd care about the rest of us, but they sure as hell won't risk hanging for a prize they didn't catch. As the saying goes, 'if they go down, they're going to make sure YOU are the one who breaks their fall.' Scotland Yard has eyes and ears in as many places as the Brotherhood, it may surprise you to know. Some of our guys are right under their very noses. Employed in places of trust."
"Such as?" Hastings inquired.
"Such as their favorite watering holes. Very high end places where the bar tenders would just about have to be picking the boys' pockets for them to notice. They stay inconspicuous. Pour the drinks. Clear the glasses and bottles and listen. That's what bar keeps do as a rule, anyway. Bar maids get some of the best 'stories' anywhere. Hey, if the frauleins in the German beer halls were to do too much gabbing, they could have brought down the Third Reich weeks or months ahead of allied troops."
"Or ended up hanging by the piano wire." Poirot spoke up, staring around him. "I am very nearly convinced to stay. In fact, I think I was so persuaded by the time I got out of the car. All the same, I do want to make sure I KNOW before I let you in on the plans. Is that fair?"
"Fair enough. But I guarantee you'll stay. In fact, I'd be willing to put ten pounds on it."
"I don't think I'd do that if I were you, Japp. You've lost the last two bets."
"And you won a bet," Japp reminded Hastings of the play.
Well, in fairness, that might have been an unfair wager. I don't think we did have all the evidence."
"All of that said, Hastings, " Poirot replied. "it was a bet you won. And I was not in the best of humor after not having a case for a few weeks, so I was not the gracious loser. However, in this case, I may well b e very happy to lose. I will let you know...."
"Tomorrow!" Japp declared. "Not to make that the deadline, but after you have a good sleep in your bed, you'll be throwing money at me if it means the chance to sleep in that bed again."
"I am almost afraid to ask," Poirot looked at James Japp. "but how do you say this with such surety?"
"My wife. She has been griping about our bed for a while. At first I thought it was just...pardon the phrasing, women's troubles. Well, Hastings invites us here for the weekend and Emily sleeps like a rock. Wakes up, chipper as a spring bird. I was almost sure I got into the wrong bed."
Both Poirot and Hastings chuckled at the thought.
"Anyway, this place is a little piece of heaven. Nights are relaxing. No sirens screeching by. No arguments with the neighbors."
"I even had one couple ask if they could kip on the grounds in sleeping bags, just to sleep under the stars." Hastings added. "Lovely idea. Only it ended up raining that night. Still, they had a good laugh over it."
"That wasn't you and Madame Hastings, was it?"
"Ten years ago, I might have tried that. No more. I have a business to run and a son to raise. Try doing those things when you can't move for screaming."
"All of that said, if you have a difficult time sleeping the way Emily usually does, you will be a new man by this time tomorrow."
*****
In fact, he was just about a new man by the end of the day. As the friends headed back to the house, they heard Aaron Hastings shouting before seeing him. "Papa PAYROW! Where are you?!"
More than the bed he DID sleep comfortably in, that night, the sound of his name, being mispronounced by that dear child was enough to decide the issue for Hercule Poirot, right there and then. And by lunch time on Saturday, James Japp won his ten pound bet.
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