M Beaton - There Goes The Bride

Phil and Patrick were pleased with the newcomers because both were able to take a much-needed holiday.

Phil had decided to spend his holiday at home, working in his garden.

Autumn was creeping into the Cotswolds. The leaves on the lime trees were already beginning to turn and the harvest had been brought in. But the Cotswolds were enjoying the rare glory of an Indian summer and one Saturday morning Phil’s white hair was bent over a flower bed when he became aware of being watched.

He straightened up and turned round. Toni stood there. ‘What a nice surprise,’ said Phil. ‘I made a jug of lemonade this morning. Let’s sit in the garden.’

Toni sat down in a garden chair in front of a white wrought-iron table. When Phil came out of the kitchen door carrying glasses and a jug of lemonade, Toni said, ‘I can hear the faint sounds of a band.’

‘That’ll be over at the pub. There’s some sort of village fête going on.’

‘No Agatha?’

‘I gather from Mrs Bloxby that she seems to have lost interest in village things. I’m glad to see you. Any particular reason for this visit?’

Toni accepted a glass of lemonade and sighed. ‘It’s Agatha.’

‘Ah.’

‘You might have noticed that ever since I found Trixie and got all that publicity and she hired those two new men, I’m being given all the rubbish.’

‘Yes, I had noticed,’ said Phil awkwardly. ‘You should speak to her about it.’

‘I suppose I should. The fact is, I’m tired of being grateful to Agatha. She rescued me from home, found me a flat, has protected me and looked after me. If I complain to her, yes, she’ll probably put me on to something decent, but she should want to without me prompting her.’

‘She doesn’t have telepathic powers, you know. You have to speak to her.’

‘You know, she scares me.’

‘Well, she can be a bit scary but she’s got a heart of gold. You are very young. Maybe she’s jealous.’

‘Of course she’s jealous. Maybe she has a reason to be. I told Sharon after we had found Trixie to phone her and Sharon said she had. But it turns out she didn’t and as Sharon is a friend of mine, Agatha thought we were deliberately cutting her out.’

‘Would you like me to speak to her?’ asked Phil.

‘No, it’s all right. I’ve been thinking for a long time about joining the police force. It’s so frustrating having to interview people when you haven’t really any official capacity. But Agatha would think I was being ungrateful.’

‘Talk to Bill Wong about it and then maybe talk to Mrs Bloxby. Mrs Bloxby’s such a sensible, calming sort of lady.’

‘As I’m in the village, I may as well call on her now. Thanks for the lemonade.’

‘You’ll find her at the fête. It’s in the field behind the pub.’

‘What if Agatha’s there?’

‘Then just pluck up your courage and talk to her.’

Mrs Bloxby was standing wearily behind a table boasting the legend VILLAGE HANDICRAFTS.

‘Oh, Miss Gilmour. How very nice to see you,’ said the vicar’s wife. ‘Ah, here is Mrs Jardine to relieve me. Let’s go over to the refreshment tent and get some ice cream. Such an unusually hot day.’

Once they had queued up and paid for small dishes of strawberry ice cream, Mrs Bloxby led the way to a table in a corner of the tent.

‘Is Mrs Raisin coming to join us?’ asked Mrs Bloxby.

‘No, the reason I’m here is to ask your advice about Agatha.’

‘She is not in any trouble, I hope?’

‘No, I am. Ever since I received all that publicity over the Trixie case, Agatha has been giving me all the unimportant work.’

‘Then you must talk to her. Mrs Raisin is a friend of mine. I cannot discuss her behind her back unless she herself has a problem that I might be able to help with. You have a great deal of courage to go out on nasty cases and yet you cannot speak to your kind – very kind -employer!’

‘Agatha is more terrifying than a nasty case.’

‘Now, that’s enough! Have you spoken to anyone else about this?’

‘I called on Phil Marshall before I came here.’

‘This is a small gossipy village. Mrs Raisin will soon hear about your visit and she will ask Mr Marshall why you called and I have no doubt he will tell her. You had better go and see Mrs Raisin immediately.’

Toni approached Agatha’s cottage with lagging footsteps. She rang the bell, hoping that Agatha was out. But the lady herself answered the door.

‘Toni! What a nice surprise. Come through to the garden.’

When they were seated at the garden table, Agatha asked, ‘Is this a social call?’

‘No,’ said Toni, staring down at her feet.

‘Then what is it?’

‘Why are you giving me all the unimportant cases?’

‘Well, I have two new detectives, Paul and Fred, and I want to really try them out.’

Toni raised her blue eyes and looked straight into Agatha’s face. ‘I think ever since the Trixie case that you’ve become jealous of me.’

She waited for the storm to break. But Agatha’s reaction surprised her. Agatha sat very still, staring out at the Cotswold hills beyond the village. From the fête came the faint sounds of the village band.

Then Agatha heaved a deep sigh and said quietly, ‘Yes, of course, you’re quite right.’

‘But why?’

‘I hate not being photogenic,’ said Agatha. ‘Even if I’d broken the case, the photographers and reporters have only got to see you and they forget I exist. I’m sorry. I’ve not been myself recently.’

‘What’s the matter?’

‘Age, I suppose. They say the fifties are the new forties, but they don’t know what they’re talking about. Charles comes and goes, James treats me like a fellow, and Sylvan’s only interest in me was to keep track of what I might be finding out. It’s very lowering. Charles is really the one who caught Sylvan. It was his idea, you know. You were the one who found Trixie. So not only am I worried about losing my looks and any attraction I might have had, I’m beginning to doubt my worth as a detective.’

‘Do you want me to leave?’ asked Toni.

‘Good God, no! I’ll make it up to you on Monday morning. Now, I’ll get us a drink. What would you like?’

Toni asked for a vodka and tonic.

When Agatha went off to get the drinks, Toni felt trapped. How could she leave now after Agatha’s amazing burst of self-honesty?

Agatha came back with the drinks and looked at Toni’s troubled face. ‘Forget about it,’ she said gruffly. ‘You’d have felt better if I’d shouted at you and told you you were talking rubbish, now wouldn’t you?’

Toni gave a reluctant laugh. ‘Something like that.’

‘So let’s move on to something else. Sylvan’s body hasn’t been washed up anywhere and that bothers me. The police have pretty much closed the case, although they’re still looking for Sylvan – but not very hard. They have decided that Felicity knew something about the smuggling and that’s why she was shot. Yet, they have accepted that George Bross was gulled by Sylvan and is innocent. I can’t see that. I really don’t trust that man. I wish I could get to his wife, Olivia. She was keen to employ me but it was her husband who cut her off.’

‘The agency is running well,’ said Toni. ‘Why don’t you go back to Hewes and see if you can catch Olivia when she’s out shopping or something?’

Agatha brightened. ‘That’s an idea. I just don’t like to leave the whole case alone with so many unanswered questions.’

‘You’d better go in disguise,’ said Toni uneasily. ‘If Bross is a villain, you might be in trouble.’

‘I’ll go as myself,’ said Agatha defiantly. ‘It might stir things up.’