Вечеринка на Хэллоуин / Hallowe'en Party

HALLOWE’EN PARTY
Комментарии и словарь  
Д. Г
. Сигала

УДК 372.8
ББК 
81.2 Англ
К82
Agatha Christie
HALLOWE’EN PARTY
В оформлении обложки использован
фрагмент орнамента Уильяма Морриса
Кристи, Агата.
К82		
Вечеринка в Хэллоуин : книга для чтения на английском языке / А. Кристи.  — Санкт-Петербург : 
КАРО, 2024. — 368 с. — (Detective story).
ISBN 978-5-9925-1720-0.
Детективный роман «Вечеринка в Хэллоуин» (1968) — одно 
из последних произведений Агаты Кристи о бельгийском сыщике 
Эркюле Пуаро. На сей раз в расследовании знаменитому детективу 
помогает Ариадна Оливер — альтер эго самой писательницы. Им 
предстоит вычислить убийцу тринадцатилетней девочки, которая 
утонула в самый разгар детского праздника на Хэллоуин.  
Неадаптированный текст на языке оригинала снабжен постраничными комментариями и словарем.
УДК 372.8
ББК 81.2 Англ
Hallowe’en Party Copyright © 1969 
Agatha Christie Limited. 
All rights reserved.
AGATHA CHRISTIE, POIROT 
аnd the Agatha Christie Signature
аre registered trade marks of
Agatha Christie Limited in the UK
and elsewhere. All rights reserved.
© КАРО, 2024
Все права защищены
ISBN 978-5-9925-1720-0

To P. G. Wodehouse
whose books and stories have brightened 
my life for many years. Also, to show my 
pleasure in his having been kind enough to 
tell me that he enjoys my books.

CHAPTER 1
Mrs Ariadne Oliver had gone with the friend with 
whom she was staying, Judith Butler, to help with the 
preparations for a children’s party which was to take 
place that same evening.
At the moment it was a scene of chaotic activity. 
Energetic women came in and out of doors moving 
chairs, small tables, flower vases, and carrying large 
quantities of yellow pumpkins which they disposed 
strategically in selected spots.
It was to be a Hallowe’en1 party for invited guests 
of an age group between ten and seventeen years old.
Mrs Oliver, removing herself from the main group, 
leant against a vacant background of wall and held up 
a large yellow pumpkin, looking at it critically—’The 
last time I saw one of these,’ she said, sweeping back 
her grey hair from her prominent forehead, ‘was in the 
United States last year—hundreds of them. All over the 
house. I’ve never seen so many pumpkins. As a matter 
1  Hallowe’en = Halloween — Хэллоуин, канун Дня всех 
святых, празднуется в ночь с 31 октября на 1 ноября
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of fact,’ she added thoughtfully, ‘I’ve never really known 
the difference between a pumpkin and a vegetable 
marrow1. What’s this one?’
‘Sorry, dear,’ said Mrs Butler, as she fell over her 
friend’s feet.
Mrs Oliver pressed herself closer against the wall.
‘My fault,’ she said. ‘I’m standing about and getting 
in the way. But it was rather remarkable, seeing so 
many pumpkins or vegetable marrows, whatever 
they are. They were everywhere, in the shops, and 
in people’s houses, with candles or nightlights inside 
them or strung up. Very interesting really. But it wasn’t 
for a Hallowe’en party, it was Thanksgiving. Now I’ve 
always associated pumpkins with Hallowe’en and that’s 
the end of October. Thanksgiving comes much later, 
doesn’t it? Isn’t it November, about the third week in 
November? Anyway, here, Hallowe’en is definitely the 
31st of October, isn’t it? First Hallowe’en and then, what 
comes next? All Souls’ Day2? That’s when in Paris you 
go to cemeteries and put flowers on graves. Not a sad 
sort of feast. I mean, all the children go too, and enjoy 
themselves. You go to flower markets first and buy lots 
and lots of lovely flowers. Flowers never look so lovely 
as they do in Paris in the market there.’ 
1  vegetable marrow — кабачок
2  All Souls’ Day — День всех святых, празднуется 1 ноября
5

A lot of busy women were falling over Mrs Oliver 
occasionally, but they were not listening to her. They were 
all too busy with what they were doing.
They consisted for the most part of mothers, one or two 
competent spinsters; there were useful teenagers, boys of 
sixteen and seventeen climbing up ladders or standing on 
chairs to put decorations, pumpkins or vegetable marrows 
or brightly coloured witchballs1 at a suitable elevation; girls 
from eleven to fifteen hung about in groups and giggled.
‘And after All Souls’ Day and cemeteries,’ went on Mrs 
Oliver, lowering her bulk on to the arm of a settee, ‘you 
have All Saints’ Day. I think I’m right?’
Nobody responded to this question. Mrs Drake, a 
handsome middle-aged woman who was giving the party, 
made a pronouncement.
‘I’m not calling this a Hallowe’en party, although of 
course it is one really. I’m calling it the Eleven Plus party2. 
It’s that sort of age group. Mostly people who are leaving 
the Elms and going on to other schools.’
‘But that’s not very accurate, Rowena, is it?’ said 
Miss Whittaker, resetting her pince-nez on her nose 
disapprovingly.
1  witchball — полый стеклянный шар, который, по английскому поверью, защищал от колдовства, злых духов 
и т. д. Использовался начиная с XVIII в.
2  Eleven Plus party — вечеринка для детей начиная с 11 лет
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Miss Whittaker as a local school-teacher was 
always firm on accuracy.
‘Because we’ve abolished the eleven-plus some 
time ago.’
Mrs Oliver rose from the settee apologetically. 
‘I haven’t been making myself useful. I’ve just been 
sitting here saying silly things about pumpkins and 
vegetable marrows’—And resting my feet, she thought, 
with a slight pang of conscience1, but without sufficient 
feeling of guilt to say it aloud.
‘Now what can I do next?’ she asked, and added, 
‘What lovely apples!’
Someone had just brought a large bowl of apples 
into the room. Mrs Oliver was partial to apples.
‘Lovely red ones,’ she added.
‘They’re not really very good,’ said Rowena Drake. 
‘But they look nice and partified2. That’s for bobbing 
for apples3. They’re rather soft apples, so people will 
be able to get their teeth into them better. Take them 
into the library, will you, Beatrice? Bobbing for apples 
always makes a mess with the water slopping over, but 
1  pang of conscience — укол совести
2  partified — празднично выглядящий
3  bobbing for apples — традиционная в англоязычных 
странах игра на Хэллоуин, заключающаяся в попытке достать зубами яблоко из емкости с водой
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that doesn’t matter with the library carpet, it’s so old. 
Oh! Thank you, Joyce.’
Joyce, a sturdy thirteen-year-old, seized the bowl 
of apples. Two rolled off it and stopped, as though 
arrested by a witch’s wand, at Mrs Oliver’s feet.
‘You like apples, don’t you,’ said Joyce. ‘I read you 
did, or perhaps I heard it on the telly. You’re the one 
who writes murder stories, aren’t you?’
‘Yes,’ said Mrs Oliver.
‘We ought to have made you do something 
connected with murders. Have a murder at the party 
tonight and make people solve it.’
‘No, thank you,’ said Mrs Oliver. ‘Never again.’
‘What do you mean, never again?’
‘Well, I did once, and it didn’t turn out much of a 
success,’ said Mrs Oliver.
‘But you’ve written lots of books,’ said Joyce, ‘you 
make a lot of money out of them, don’t you?’
‘In a way,’ said Mrs Oliver, her thoughts flying to the 
Inland Revenue1.
‘And you’ve got a detective who’s a Finn.’
Mrs Oliver admitted the fact. A small stolid boy 
not yet, Mrs Oliver would have thought, arrived at the 
seniority of the eleven-plus, said sternly, ‘Why a Finn?’
1  Inland Revenue — Государственная налоговая служба 
Великобритании (в 2005 г. объединена с Государственной 
таможенно-акцизной службой)
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‘I’ve often wondered,’ said Mrs Oliver truthfully.
Mrs Hargreaves, the organist’s wife, came into 
the room breathing heavily, and bearing a large green 
plastic pail.
‘What about this,’ she said, ‘for the apple bobbing? 
Kind of gay, I thought.’
Miss Lee, the doctor’s dispenser1, said, ‘Galvanized 
bucket’s better. Won’t tip over so easily. Where are you 
going to have it, Mrs Drake?’
‘I thought the bobbing for apples had better be in 
the library. The carpet’s old there and a lot of water 
always gets spilt, anyway.’
‘All right. We’ll take them along. Rowena, here’s 
another basket of apples.’
‘Let me help,’ said Mrs Oliver.
She picked up the two apples at her feet. Almost 
without noticing what she was doing, she sank her 
teeth into one of them and began to crunch it. Mrs Drake 
abstracted the second apple from her firmly and restored 
it to the basket. A buzz of conversation broke out.
‘Yes, but where are we going to have the Snapdragon2?’
1  doctor’s dispenser — фармацевт
2  Snapdragon — традиционная в англоязычных странах 
игра: в широкую мелкую емкость клали изюминки по 
числу участников, наливали горячий бренди и поджигали его. Целью игры было достать изюминку и съесть ее, 
не обжегшись
9

‘You ought to have the Snapdragon in the library, 
it’s much the darkest room.’
‘No, we’re going to have that in the dining-room.’
‘We’ll have to put something on the table first.’
‘There’s a green baize to put on that and then the 
rubber sheet over it.’
‘What about the looking-glasses? Shall we really 
see our husbands in them1?’
Surreptitiously removing her shoes and still quietly 
champing at her apple, Mrs oliver lowered herself once 
more on to the settee and surveyed the room full of 
people critically. She was thinking in her authoress’s 
mind: ‘Now, if I was going to make a book about all 
these people, how should I do it? They’re nice people, 
I should think, on the whole, but who knows?’
In a way, she felt, it was rather fascinating not to 
know anything about them. They all lived in Woodleigh 
Common, some of them had faint tags attached to them 
in her memory because of what Judith had told her. 
Miss Johnson— something to do with the church, not 
the vicar’s sister. Oh no, it was the organist’s sister, 
of course. Rowena Drake, who seemed to run things 
in Woodleigh Common. The puffing woman who had 
1  What about the looking-glasses? Shall we really see our 
husbands in them? — традиционное гадание: считалось, 
что в зеркале девушка может увидеть лицо своего будущего мужа
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