Ever since reading about Agatha Christie’s holiday home in Devon, I have wanted to add Greenway House to my list of literary homes I have visited. In June, my wish came true. My husband and I traveled to London at the beginning of the summer to attend a Billie Eilish concert at the O2 Centre. To complement our musical experience, I fashioned an impromptu literary tour for the remainder of our week in England. On the itinerary were Poets Corner at Westminster Abbey, the Jane Austen Centre in Bath and Greenway House. The photo essay below was inspired by the idyllic afternoon we spent at “the loveliest place in the world.”

Clio gazed down at the Georgian House admiring its white facade and stately pillars. From her vantage point on the hilltop garden path, the holiday home shone in the shimmering afternoon sunshine. Agatha Christie, the home’s famous resident, often referred to Greenway House as the loveliest place in the world. Clio had to agree with her. Lifting her camera to her eye, she snapped photos of the house, a herd of cows grazing in a neighboring pasture and the sparkling river estuary below.

The countryside views in Devon were softer than in Cornwall. Clio had just spent two days exploring the area around Fowey, home to Daphne du Maurier, another of her beloved British writers. With her rugged ocean cliffs, wild surf, and prehistoric standing stones, Cornwall was like a grand and imposing dowager dressed in black, Clio thought with a small grin. Devon, on the other hand was a warm-hearted favorite aunt who was partial to floral print dresses and sun hats.

Daphne du Maurier and Agatha Christie had lived and written in southwest England at the same time. Clio wondered if they had ever met each other or traded correspondence. Had they read each other’s novels?

With a sigh of satisfaction, Clio reached into her quilted shoulder bag for the tourist map she had received from the National Trust tour guide who had showed her around the house. From where she stood in the top garden, it looked like she could follow a winding path down to the famed boathouse where the innocent Girl Guide named Marlene meets a dreadful end in her favorite Christie novel, Deadman’s Folly.

As she traipsed along the well-tended, downhill path, Clio shivered in delight. She was walking in the footsteps of the renowned Queen of Crime. With each step, she imagined the writer rambling through the grounds while mulling over the details of her latest mystery novel. Actually though, in this neighborhood, Christie was simply known as Mrs. Mallowan. Agatha and her archaeologist husband, Max, would come to Greenway to escape the hustle and bustle of their public lives.

Clio nodded and smiled at other walkers, many of whom were accompanied by panting, tail-wagging dogs tugging at their leashes. The woodland gardens were a marvelous spot for a Sunday stroll. At the bottom of the hill, she paused to catch her breath and bundle her chestnut hair into a long ponytail. A sudden gust of wind cooled the back of her neck and set swaths of verdant foliage dancing. The rustling of leaves blended harmoniously with the soothing sound of lapping water. The river was just ahead.

As she approached the boathouse, Clio caught a glimpse of a person standing by the shingled wooden structure.The elderly woman had her neatly coiffed silver hair covered with a plaid scarf. She wore a demure wool suit and sturdy walking shoes. A white and tan wire-haired terrier sat at her feet.

With a friendly smile on her face, Clio hurried forward. For a quick second, she let her gaze wander to the eye-catching river view. When she looked again at the boathouse, the woman and her dog had vanished. Perhaps they had slipped inside. Clio stepped through the open door. The cavernous room was empty, but the faint echo of a dog’s bark and a woman laughingly hushing him filled the air.