Agatha's Missing Days

This story is based on a real event. Agatha Christie did 'disappear' in 1926 and was later discovered in Harrogate. The main characters - Christie, her husband, his mistress and Bob Tappin - were all real but I have taken liberties with the events of those missing days.

*****

As the train struggled through the grey English countryside the woman continued to stare out of the window. The rain on the carriage window had replaced the tears that she had recently shed. She couldn't believe the last twenty-four hours. The argument with Archie had been so pointless; in fact, she couldn't remember now how it had started. The bombshell that followed had taken her breath away. He was leaving her. Worse, he was going to live with that bitch, Nancy Neele. He even told her that he had been sleeping with her for months. God, she hated her! To think, she had trusted that woman, had invited her into their lives.

What happened after that was still a bit of a blur. There was more screaming and shouting as Archie walked out the door. After that, she had spent the day feeling sorry for herself or bursting into angry tears. She went into Rosalind's room to kiss the sleeping seven year old. She knew that the nanny would look after the child when she awoke. Finally, she scribbled a note, threw some clothes in a case and jumped into the car. She remembered running out of petrol at some point and just leaving the car. It must have been near Guildford. At the back of her mind she thought she had been chasing Archie. Surely she wasn't going to beg him to come back? No, nothing so melodramatic.

She had certainly managed to get a lift to Guildford Station and then a train to Waterloo. She remembered struggling across London. Finding there were no trains until the morning, she had spent the night in a seedy hotel in the Euston Road before catching the early train from Kings Cross. She had booked to go to Edinburgh but knew she had no real intention of getting there. As for what she did intend, well, at the moment she had no idea. She watched as the towns rolled by. Peterborough, Grantham, Doncaster. Each name seemed less attractive than the one before. She wondered what her Belgian friend would say. Something about using her grey matter, she guessed.

She looked up as the compartment door opened. A young couple almost fell through the door, giggling. They sat in the seats opposite and seemed incapable of keeping their hands off each other. Trying to ignore them, Agatha stared out of the window. After a while their irritating noises seemed to tail off. Glancing around, she realised they were staring at her although they looked away quickly, embarrassed. The young girl seemed to be trying to pluck up courage to speak.

"Excuse me, do I know you? I seem to recognise your face."

Panic rushed over Agatha. She did not want to be found, did not want Archie to reach her. She stumbled for a reply.

"I...err... don't think so, my dear. I'm...Theresa, Theresa... Neele." She grabbed for the first name that came to her mind, that of her husband's slut. There was something satisfactory in using that name. The young girl looked disappointed but uncertain.

"Oh, I'm sorry. It's just that your face reminded me of someone."

Agatha forced a laugh.

"Don't worry, dear. Mine is a very common face."

The girl apologised again but still looked disappointed. Agatha knew she had to get off the train, get away from these inquisitive eyes. She felt the train slowing. The guard's voice echoed down the corridor.

"Harrogate. The next stop is Harrogate."

Agatha grabbed her case from the seat beside her and stood up quickly. As she pulled the compartment door open she heard the young girl say

"You know, you look very like..."

But who she looked like was washed away in the steam from the locomotive as she stepped onto the platform of Harrogate railway station.

The noise enveloped her immediately. Whistles, cries, the monstrous locomotive crawling from the station, huge wheels grasping at the metal rails. For a moment she was frozen. What on earth was she doing? Then panic gripped her and she ran. Crashing into passengers, through doors filthy with soot until finally emerging onto the street. She could hear shouts from taxis but was uncertain if they were directed at her. She fled from the noise down the street opposite, not knowing where she was heading. Shops passed in a blur, Christmas decorations glinting in some windows. Finally, she paused for breath. People were going about their business but no-one seemed to be paying her any attention. She cursed herself for her ridiculous panic. As she looked around, her gaze was taken by a large building. She drifted towards the imposing front door and, without knowing what she intended, entered. As the door closed behind her a hush descended and, with it, a sense of calm came over Agatha.

"Can I help you, madam?"

The voice to her left brought her back to reality.

"Ah, yes. A room, I would like a room, please." She was certain that she looked a dreadful mess after her flight through the town but the receptionist made no comment on her appearance. Instead, there was a simple question on how long she intended to stay. She responded with a garbled reply indicating uncertainty. A signature in a book evoked a smile as she once more used that hated name, a key was placed in her hand and Agatha found herself in a long corridor, outside a nondescript door. She unlocked it and entered. The bed looked so inviting. Within minutes she was asleep.

She was uncertain how long she slept but noises in the corridor brought her back to consciousness. A glance at her watch told her it was late in the evening; she was certain she had missed dinner. It did not matter, she did not feel hungry. Climbing off the bed, she sat at the desk and stared in the mirror. Despite her rather dishevelled appearance, for a woman of thirty-six she still looked fairly presentable. As she poked and prodded her skin she felt she was shedding her past life. Archie, Nancy - they were all part of that past that seemed to be leaving her and she became aware that she did not care. Almost mechanically, she grabbed the hotel's headed writing paper and started to write.

Her ideas were chaotic but they involved a train, a mistress and a woman fleeing her adulterous husband. She had no idea how long she wrote for but only paused when she had covered four sides with her notes. Carefully, she folded them and slipped them into the side pocket of her suitcase. As she did so, she realised that, finally, hunger had caught up with her. It had been nearly twenty four hours since she had eaten anything. Quickly, she washed her face, brushed her hair and stepped out of her room.

The hotel was silent. Winding her way through the maze of corridors and stairs, she found herself back at reception but now it was deserted. Surely there must be someone who could help her? Noises drifted down the corridor so Agatha headed towards them. She found herself outside large double doors so gently pushed them open. Inside was a large ballroom and, at the far end, she could discern a figure on the stage.

"Excuse me."

The figure on the stage jumped and turned around.

"Blimey! You didn't half give me a fright. I thought it was the hotel ghost!" The man laughed and jumped off the stage. He headed for Agatha. "Can I help you, madam?"

"I was just looking for something to eat." Agatha noticed the man was wearing some sort of suit. "Do you work here?"

"In a way. I'm Bob, Bob Tappin. I play the banjo in the hotel dance band. As for food, well, I'm sure I can find something in the kitchens. Cheese sandwich?"

"Yes, yes, that would be fine." The man turned his back and disappeared through a door almost hidden in the corner of the room. Agatha wandered around the room. Here and there was the detritus of that evening's dance: bottles, glasses and crumpled napkins. As she reached the stage she could see what Mr Tappin had been doing, there was an open case with a gleaming silver banjo nestling in it.

"It's a beauty, isn't it?" This time it was Agatha's turn to jump. She turned around and saw Mr Tappin emerging from the door with a tray loaded with cheese and bread. He sat at a nearby table and gestured for Agatha to join him. As she did so, she watched as he cut the bread into thick slices and added slabs of cheddar. "Sorry they are not more presentable but hopefully they'll fill a gap." He pushed a plate towards her. "You haven't told me your name."

Agatha paused as she picked up the sandwich. "Theresa, it's Theresa."

"Well, Theresa, what brings you wandering around a hotel in the middle of the night?"

What could she say except for the truth? She told him how she had arrived late, had fallen asleep and then awoke hungry. She left out the part where she wrote. She did not want to suggest there was anything unusual about her. As she ate they continued to talk. Mr Tappin - Bob - told her about his life as a part time banjo player and she lied. Just as they so often flowed from her pen so stories now came from her mouth, a life in South Africa, a husband dead in the Great War, a quiet holiday in England. Finally the sandwich was finished and with it, the conversation. She thanked Bob for his help.

"That's no problem. The hotel would probably sack me if they felt I wasn't helping the guests. Any time you need another sandwich, you come on down to the ballroom. I'm always the last one out of here." He laughed. "Goodnight, Theresa"

"Goodnight, Bob." With a smile to herself, Agatha turned and headed to her room.

As she undressed, Agatha was surprised to find that she was wet between her legs. It had been a long time since she had felt like this. Archie had not come near her in months. She realised now that he had been screwing his slut all that time. To be honest, it had been even longer since she had managed a conversation with a man that did not involve publishing. The easy flow of chit chat with Bob had been cathartic. Like her earlier examination in the mirror, she felt this was another moment in which she was shedding the past.

As she slid between the sheets, she allowed her fingers to stray over her hidden bud. A few gentle circles and she could feel an orgasm building within her. Shocked at the immediacy of these feelings she stopped but the emptiness brought about by this sudden halt was even worse and, urgently, she jammed two fingers deep inside herself. The orgasm crashed over her almost immediately and she cried out. The nerve endings across her body seemed alive. The feel of her nightdress across her nipples was almost more than she could bear. As she gently withdrew her fingers a second orgasm pulsed through her and she had to bite her lip to avoid crying out again. As the orgasm faded so sleep replaced it and she closed her eyes, sliding quickly into oblivion.

Awaking the next morning to light pouring through the curtains, Agatha was surprised to find her nightdress bunched around her waist but the memory of the previous night soon flooded her mind. Buried deep within her was a moment of embarrassment but it was swamped with thoughts of the pleasure the orgasms had brought, pleasure she had almost forgotten. She washed quickly, dressed and headed downstairs to breakfast.

That morning was a blur. She wandered around the quiet town, shops closed, lights off on a Sunday in a town that set such store by chapel. She admired the decorations in the shop windows, thinking what she would buy for Rosalind's Christmas present. She returned to the hotel for lunch and spent a productive afternoon scribbling further notes on the hotel's paper. She stopped at the reception desk on the way to afternoon tea to enquire as to whether the band would be playing that evening.

"I'm sorry, madam, they do not play on a Sunday. Our residents find it rather disturbing."

Agatha felt her heart sink. She had not wanted to admit how much she was looking forward to seeing Bob again but the fact that he was not here brought back all her previous emptiness.

"Is everything all right, madam?" The receptionist seemed concerned. "If you are looking for something to do can I recommend our Turkish baths?"

A murmur of assent escaped from between Agatha's lips. She turned and headed in to the dining room. The afternoon tea was spectacular: sandwiches of every flavour, cakes of every hue, but she wanted none of it. She took a sandwich to be polite but only nibbled half of it before leaving abruptly and returning to her room. It was as she lay on her bed sobbing that the realisation hit her - she was being a silly little girl. For heaven's sake, she was a thirty six year old woman. She should not be behaving like this. The man had just helped her out with a sandwich, nothing more. She needed to sort herself out and she knew just the way to do it.

The Turkish baths were strictly demarcated and the ladies' side was empty except for the young girl who handed her the towel. On entering the changing rooms she stripped quickly, wrapped the towel around her and headed into the steam room. The heat and humidity brought out beads of perspiration almost immediately. Agatha sat on the stone bench and let all the grime from the previous few days seep out of her pores. The cold bath that followed brought her back to life. All those elements of her life that she had felt were shedding from her now seemed to be washed away down the bath's drain. Just like her exhilarating orgasms the previous night, she felt once more she had a new life in front of her. She dried quickly and left the baths.

As she sauntered down the corridor she heard a voice behind her.

"Miss Neele? Is it you?"

It took her a few seconds to realise this was addressed to her, still uncertain of her strange pseudonym. She turned. It was him.

"Oh Mr Tappin, good evening. I did not expect to see you. I understood the band were not playing this evening."

"No, no, we are not but I had to come in to sort out some music for tomorrow." He looked faintly embarrassed. "Can I offer you a cup of tea...or even a sandwich?"

Agatha laughed and the tension between them was released. "That would be lovely but I don't believe they are still serving."

"Don't worry. I am sure my friends in the kitchen can help. Where would you like to be served?"

Agatha paused, uncertain as to how her next words would be interpreted. "Shall we have it in my room?" After a moment's hesitation she told him the number.

"Are you sure?"

Agatha recognised that question carried more than simple concern for her reputation. "Yes, yes, we'll be more comfortable in there."

Holding her gaze so neither of them could be uncertain of what each intended, Bob excused himself to fetch the tea. Agatha headed for her room.

Once inside, she leaned back against the door. What on earth was she doing? She was a married woman, albeit married to a cheating pig. To Bob, she was a widow on her own in a small hotel room. Quickly she persuaded herself that they were just having a cup of tea and, as he was an employee of the hotel, it would be unseemly to do so with a guest in the public rooms at this time. A light knock on the door made her cry out in surprise. She opened it and there stood Bob, holding a tray, laden with sandwiches, cakes, two cups and a tea pot.

"Room service?"

Agatha laughed and stepped aside to let him in, closing the door behind him. He placed the tray on the desk and turned towards her. She looked up. In two strides he was holding her and their lips were locked together. She sighed into his mouth and parted her lips, inviting his tongue in. He licked into the corners of her mouth and she could feel the dampness return between her legs. She knew this was the path of no return. Her nipples grew firm beneath her dress and, through his trousers, she could feel Bob's tumescence. She drew back from his face.

"Take me to bed." It was all the invitation he needed. He removed his shoes and socks. Then, gently, he released her dress from her shoulders and it dropped to the floor. Her firm breasts invited a caress from his hands which sent a shudder through her body. Slowly, he placed his hands in the waistband of her briefs and slid them over her hips, joining her dress on the floor.

"My God, your body is fabulous."

Agatha blushed at his words. It was a long time since anyone had ever said anything like that to her. She reached out and began to unbutton his shirt but his hand stopped her.

"I must tell you, I did not come in to sort out music today. I came in as I hoped to see you."

"I know. You are a dreadful liar. You looked so guilty. It's all right. I could not stop thinking about you. I was so miserable when I heard you were not playing today." Agatha returned to unbuttoning Bob's shirt. "I, too, have a confession. I have not done this for a long time. You may have to guide me." That was half true. She had not made love with Archie for months and, up to that point, their love life had been fairly unsatisfactory, often finishing once Archie came inside her and promptly fell asleep.

"It's all right. We will guide each other." By this time, Bob had released his belt, unbuttoned his trousers and, in one move, slid them and his underpants to the ground. His cock was hard, erect and Agatha was shocked to see its size. She had only ever seen Archie's penis before and had believed all men were roughly the same but this was far bigger than Archie's. She slid her hand down and lightly grasped it, almost testing its girth. Bob clearly sensed her nervousness.

"Don't worry. I will be gentle and slow." His words at once made her feel both safe and incredibly aroused. She knew she wanted this inside her. Together, they stepped out of their clothes and, in one move, Agatha found herself lifted up and placed on the bed. She closed her eyes as she felt Bob lie next to her. He kissed her once again, more gently this time and once again her lips slowly parted to admit his tongue. His weight above her, coupled with his firm cock pressed against her thigh was almost too much for Agatha to bear. She moaned gently. His mouth moved, kissing her neck and, when he took her left nipple between his teeth, sucking it firmly, she felt a rush of liquid from her pleasure garden.

No man had ever loved her like this and they had hardly started! Bob lingered on Agatha's breasts, switching to the other nipple at just the right moment. She was in heaven! The feelings coursing through her were unlike anything she had ever felt before. As he released his touch on her breast Agatha felt disappointment begin to surge through her but it was soon halted as Bob trailed a line of kisses down her belly and into her wiry hair.

"Wait. What are you doing? No man has done that to me before..."

Agatha's words were cut off as she felt Bob's tongue reach out and gently lick her growing bud. Her fingers last night now seemed rough and clumsy compared to the soft kisses Bob placed on her sodden lips. This was something beyond her wildest dreams. Suddenly the dream exploded as Bob's tongue pressed into her, penetrating her and gently licking inside her just as he had kissed her mouth a few short minutes ago. Agatha clamped her legs around Bob's back, drawing him in, wanting him to lick her more and more. Realising her desires, Bob allowed his tongue to stray in, along and around her hot slit. The threatened orgasm flooded her senses and Agatha's mouth opened in a silent shriek, her body becoming rigid as every inch of her seemed to shiver in pleasure.

Recognising how sensitive she now was, Bob withdrew his mouth and trailed gentle kisses back up to her mouth. Agatha savoured the wetness on his lips that she knew must have come from her. Licking around his lips, she allowed herself to taste her juices. As her body relaxed, she whispered,