A Newport writer will always remember his wedding day - the day he married the woman of his dreams and met Britain's first lady of crime fiction

SMILING sweetly, the old lady turned towards him as he opened the compartment door.

The kindliness in her eyes, he would later remember, could not quite conceal the look of detached, professional interest as if his actions were in some way being recorded.

Almost 50 years later Terry Underwood remembers the meeting at Newport railway station in sharply-etched detail.

For one thing it was the day he made Hazel Lloyd, a lovely Risca girl, his bride.

They had been married at St Mary's Parish Church that morning and with the wedding party in high-spirited pursuit had gone to Ferris's restaurant, then on the corner of Cambrian Road and Bridge Street in Newport, for the reception.

Despite it being only a few hundred yards a car was waiting outside the restaurant to take them directly to the station. As Terry shook hands with those of the wedding party who had come onto the platform his best man boarded the Paddington-bound express searching for Terry and Hazel's reserved compartment.

Almost 50 years later Terry Underwood, now 77 and with a career in business, stage production and local authorship to his credit, recalls his youthful naivety.

"All we could think about was our two weeks' honeymoon at the St Ermine's Hotel, a luxury establishment of its day.

"And so when Alan Markey my best man told me that one of our reserved seats was already taken by an old lady I didn't think very much about it. The lady politely offered to move seats but I invited her to stay where she was.

"Then she said in a rather curious voice 'I've been watching you through the window'.

"The train had hardly pulled out of the station before were we chatting to the lady. We told her where we were staying and after a little while she said 'I'm going to have a spot of tea. Would you join me?

"I offered to pay, but she would have none of it. Her clothes were expensive and she was obviously a professional person. I asked her if she had come from Cardiff and she replied that in fact she'd been to Penarth to see her son.

"As the conversation went on I asked her what she did and she replied 'I'm an author' but then moved on to other topics. As we came into Paddington station she said a car would be waiting for her which would drop us at our hotel.

"I think Hazel and I looked at one another as though we had been caught up in some romantic story. When we saw the chaffeur we were convinced of it.

"The lady who had introduced herself simply as Mary let us off at our hotel and we spent the weekend settling in.

"Come the Monday there was a telephone call from the front desk telling us that a bouquet of flowers had arrived for Mrs Underwood along with a note.

"The bouquet was enormous and the note said 'Thank you for making my trip a pleasant one'.

"Two theatre tickets were attached and a PS read 'I can thoroughly recommend The Mousetrap' and it was signed 'Mary Westmacott'.

"In my youthful ignorance of things to do with books I had no idea then that 'Mary Westmacott' was the name under which the world-famous crime writer Agatha Christie wrote love stories."

Although obsessed by the theatre (Terry Underwood is today president of Newport's New Venture Players and the Young Venture Players' Theatre Group with a score of productions to his credit) he admits that when in his 20s his literary knowledge was slight.

"Many years later I went into Smiths in Newport and picked up a book called Agatha Christie - First Lady of Crime and with a jolt realised that the face on the cover was that of the lady Hazel and I had met all those years before on the Paddington train."

The final chapter in the Underwoods' story was written 10 years ago just as Terry was finishing one of his series of popular local history books.

"We had bought a caravan near Torbay and the deadline for me delivering the manuscript was approaching without me making very much progress so I went down to Devon to finish it off.

"The chap in the next caravan who was also by himself knocked the door and suggested we go for a boat trip up the River Dart.

"As we chugged up the river the guide pointed out Greenway House where the crime writer Agatha Christie had lived until her death and of course my ears pricked up.

"Overcoming my shyness and as soon as I got some free time I drove back down to Devon and to the house and having told a gardener my story was told to wait.

"After a few moments he re-appeared and ushered me into the presence of Rosalind, Agatha Christie's daughter.

"Having told her the story of what had happened back in 1958 she said 'That's mother! Her interest would have been prompted the minute she saw you as newly-weds getting onto the train'.

"Before I left one of the gardeners gave me a plant taken from Greenway House which grows in my garden to this day."