BY DR. MANJIRI PRABHU*
It was a scene straight out of a Harry Potter book! The chocolate and cream-colored steam train with a green engine standing at the quaint station looked like the Hogwarts Express at platform 9¾ in Kings Cross Station, London.
Except, I wasn’t in London. I was at Paignton Station in South Devon, about to take the 12:15 PM steam train. I wasn’t heading to Harry’s dark world, but to a beautiful place that inspired mystery novels. I was on my way to visit Greenway Estate, the holiday home of the famous ‘Queen of Crime’—Agatha Christie.
Agatha Christie, my spirit mentor, was born on September 15, 1890. I had been invited to the International Agatha Christie Festival at Torquay, UK, in 2015, celebrating her 125th birth anniversary.
Torquay is a quaint seaside town in Devon, boasting a stunning coastline called the Riviera, with beautiful English beaches and cliffs, ranging from the pristine to the dramatic. More importantly, it is Agatha Christie’s birthplace. This September, she would have been 134 years old. As the International Agatha Christie Festival is set to once again celebrate this master of crime in Torquay, I thought it fitting to reminisce about my trip to Greenway, her holiday home, a few years ago.
Greenway Estate, now run by the National Trust, is about an hour away from the festival venue. I remember I couldn’t resist visiting the home of my idol amidst book discussions, author talks, and mystery-themed dinners. So, there I was, at Paignton Station, about to embark on a memorable adventure steeped in mystery.
“For an extra pound one-way, you can sit in the Pullman Observation Carriage,” the ticket inspector explained as he stood beside the charming heritage steam train.
I paid the extra pound without hesitation and settled into the majestic carriage, which had huge glass windows. The train chugged and whistled, curving along Torbay—the famed English Riviera. A haze hovered over the calm, grey-blue sea, and the smooth green cliffs created a mystical landscape with a touch of magic. I felt as though I was traveling both into the past and into my future.
Twenty minutes later, I alighted at Churston Station and took the 12:40 PM connecting shuttle bus. Appropriately named ‘Miss Jane Marple,’ the shuttle trundled through English country lanes to the Greenway Estate, located on the tip of a triangular hillside overlooking the River Dart. In precisely eleven minutes, the bus halted at the estate entrance.
I descended, my heart fluttering with anticipation. My feet crunched on the gravel driveway, flanked by dense trees and green slopes, draped in the afternoon light. Passing a quaint coffee shop, the path finally opened to reveal Agatha’s Greenway House, perched on top of the tree-covered hillside, with a picturesque view of the Riviera. Agatha and her second husband, Malcolm Mallowan, had bought this elegant, two-storied white Georgian house and gardens in 1938 for a mere £6,000. Although she didn’t write much here, she used the house as a location in at least three novels. The family spent wonderful holidays every summer with friends, enjoying the river, golf, and croquet.
As I wandered from room to room, the connection I had always felt with Agatha Christie seemed to come alive. I thought of the parallels I had discovered between her life and mine, and I felt as though my life was following a similar pattern. From her childhood to her first published work, from her likes and fears to certain events like her father’s death and her first marriage—my life seemed to echo parts of hers. That’s why being at Greenway felt so special.
Her portrait as a child, her piano (which she was too shy to play in public), and her collection of silver cutlery all held a distinct charm. But what completely captured my imagination was Agatha’s bedroom—polished wooden flooring, a huge fireplace, a cozy bed, and a cupboard filled with her clothes. The room displayed a startlingly lived-in feeling, as though she might appear from behind a door and exchange a few witty words. A BBC audio interview with Agatha played for those interested, and hearing her voice brought her alive. A painting titled ‘Sad Dog, Out All Night with No Key,’ which hung in her husband Malcolm’s study and had inspired the terrier in Dumb Witness, was proof of her love for dogs.
In a corner of the library rested Agatha’s favorite armchair, with a lovely view of the lawn outside. Apparently, this was where she sat to correct her novel drafts. We weren’t allowed to touch the armchair, but temptation got the better of me—I clicked a quick selfie, and the kind lady on guard turned a blind eye. It was obvious that every article in the house was preserved with loving care, successfully recreating the aura and era of Agatha’s life.
Once outside, I took the slippery footpath that dipped steeply through the woods and down the hill towards the boathouse, with the river as my guide. The boathouse on the banks of the Dart was enticing, as this was where the strangled body of a girl was found in her novel Dead Man’s Folly. The boathouse also featured in the film adaptation.
A steamer passed by on the choppy river as I breathed in the wild beauty surrounding me, imagining how every inch of beautiful Greenway had been a source of infinite inspiration for Agatha.
Finally, I returned to the front of the house, where visitors lounged in armchairs. Some basked in the sun, others read their books, or simply stared at the stunning view. Greenway, being a dog-friendly home, welcomed dogs on leashes, and happy furry bodies rolled on the lawn.
As I gazed at Greenway, dappled in the evening light, I experienced a strange sense of déjà vu, as if I had been here before—as if I was meant to be here.
Back at Churston Station, the ticket inspector flashed me a warm smile. “You can sit in the front carriage again, at no extra cost,” he offered.
I nodded, a little touched. He must have sensed I wasn’t just a curious tourist.
As the steam train sped toward Paignton, I felt a tug of sadness. However, I couldn’t bring myself to say goodbye to Greenway. It had created a permanent home in my heart, and I knew I would return one day.
This March, I was privileged to meet Agatha’s grandson, Mathew Prichard, and his lovely wife Lucy, at their home in Wales. It was a memorable day as we chatted about his legacy, enjoyed a delicious lunch, and I met their adorable dog, Gwynnie. But more significantly, Mathew was kind enough to show me some of Agatha’s personal memorabilia—her passports, her first typed and edited manuscripts, short stories, rare photos, her camera, and especially her last portrait painting, which hung proudly on one of the walls of his house. He shared the story behind the portrait and his grandmother’s reactions to it. I experienced a sense of rare fulfillment, as though I had finally met my spirit mentor, face to face.
Cover photo: Dr. Manjiri Prabhu with Agatha’s favorite armchair. Image designed on Canva.
*Dr. Manjiri Prabhu is an award-winning international author, short filmmaker, and the curator & founder/director of two international festivals.
1 comment
Must have been a wonderful experience .