I was intrigued to learn that Netflix had picked up The Seven Dials Mystery for the small screen and not remembering a lot about it, hunted it out among my collection of dusty old Agatha Christie paperbacks. First published in the 1920s, the opening scenes make it sound a little like a P G Wodehouse novel.
We’re in an English country mansion known as Chimneys which has been rented out for the summer by a wealthy industrialist, Sir Oswald Coote, and his wife Lady Coote. For some reason there are a bunch of young people staying that don’t seem to be anything to do with the Cootes, a typical Wodehouse type of house party.
When Gerry Wade becomes increasingly tardy about coming down for breakfast, much to Lady Coote’s growing discomfort, Jimmy Thesiger and his friends decide to teach him a lesson. They go into town to buy a collection of alarm clocks. The plan is to sneak them into his room to rouse him the next morning at the ungodly hour of 6:30. Only even that doesn’t seem to work, particularly when it is discovered that Gerry, far from sleeping through the cacophony of eight alarm clocks going off, is dead.
Chimneys is the home of Lord Caterham and his daughter Lady Eileen (Bundle) Brent. Bundle is also the heroine of a previous book, The Secret of Chimneys, and is always on the go in her Hispano-Suiza. Being a fearless young woman with time on her hands, she is easily bored. Before long Jimmy teams up with Bundle to solve the crime. Unlike his friends who have jobs in London, Jimmy’s a man of leisure; his valet Stevens has the same aplomb and consideration for Jimmy’s every comfort you might expect of Jeeves.
Bundle made a grimace.
“Why need people die in my room?” she asked with some indignation.
“That’s just what I’ve been saying,” said Lord Caterham, in triumph. “Inconsiderate. Everybody’s damned inconsiderate nowadays.”
“Not that I mind,” said Bundle valiantly. “Why should I?”
“I should,” said her father. “I should mind very much. I should dream things, you know – spectral hands and clanking chains.”
“Well,” said Bundle. “Great Aunt Louisa died in your bed. I wonder you don’t see her spook hovering over you.”
“I do sometimes,” said Lord Caterham, shuddering. “Especially after lobster.”
“Well, thank heaven I’m not superstitious,” declared Bundle.
Bundle’s and Jimmy’s friend Bill Eversleigh works in the Foreign Office, as did the victim, Gerry Wade. A second victim directs the investigation to Seven Dials, once a seedy part of London, now the name of a nefarious night-club and headquarters of a sinister sounding gang. With a second murder victim it is easy to assume it’s all something to do with a spy network of sorts, and the pace cranks up as our amateur sleuths team up with Gerry Wade’s step-sister, who’s a lot sharper than she looks, and follow clue after clue.
But Agatha Christie is a master of surprises, and there will be more than one shock for the reader before the end of the book. Of course, the killer is unmasked, in typical Christie style, and in spite of references to hangman’s nooses, there’s also a touch of romance in the air.
The Seven Dials Mystery really immerses the reader in a very different era of crime fiction and for some a book like this will seem terribly old fashioned. But with the huge array of cosy mysteries on the market, many set in similar periods, you can see why the Queen of Crime’s books are still big sellers. They are a lovely kind of escapism and the dialogue is full of fun, lending itself well to screen adaptations. And then there’s the settings, the costumes, that car! I shall look forward to the Netflix adaptation – in the right hands the story should come to life beautifully. This book scores three and a half stars from me.
Whenever I am stuck for something to read, or need a cosy novel to cheer me up, I tend to dip into my extensive Agatha Christie collection. I know I’ve read them before numerous times, and can probably remember ‘whodunit’, but the good ones offer more than just the mystery of the crime. One of my favourites is 
Judith McKinnon 