M Beaton: There Goes The Bride

Her taxi was just moving back out on to the main road again when a car with James at the wheel and Felicity beside him passed her. She ducked down, to the surprise of her driver.

Bill Wong got another phone call from James that evening. ‘I’m telling you, Bill, I saw her at Gallipoli. She’s chasing me! Please find out if she’s all right. I’m afraid she’s taking my engagement badly.’

Long afterwards, Agatha was to blame her visits to the two famous battlefields as having been caused by that fall down the stairs. She must have hit her head. How could she have been so stupid?

For back in the familiar surroundings of her cottage in the village of Carsely in the Cotswolds, back to work, Agatha’s obsession with James faded away.

She comforted herself with the thought that James had surely not seen her, and besides, she had told everyone that her holiday had been spent entirely in Istanbul.

Shortly after her arrival home, on a pleasant Saturday afternoon, she decided to visit Mrs Bloxby at the vicarage.

The vicar’s wife welcomed her. ‘I know you probably want to smoke, Mrs Raisin, but it’s quite chilly in the garden.’ Both of them belonged to the Carsely Ladies’ Society, where the members addressed one another by their second names, and despite their close friendship, the two women found the custom impossible to break.

‘I’ll live without one,’ sighed Agatha. ‘Rotten nanny state. Do you know that pubs are closing down at the rate of twenty-eight a week?’

‘The Red Lion is in trouble,’ said Mrs Bloxby.

‘Never! Our village pub?’

‘We’re all trying to rally round, but an awful lot of drinkers don’t want to go to a place where they can’t smoke. John Fletcher didn’t think it would strike so hard.’

‘He’s got quite a big car park at the back,’ said Agatha. ‘He could put up one of those marquee things with heaters.’

‘He hasn’t the money for that now.’

‘Then we’d better start raising some,’ said Agatha.

‘If anyone can do it, you can.’ Agatha’s past career was that of a successful public relations executive.

‘Are you going to Mr Lacey’s wedding?’ asked Mrs Bloxby.

‘Of course. They’re being married in Felicity’s home village of Downboys in Sussex. I suppose they’ll arrange accommodation for us all.’

‘I asked about that,’ said Mrs Bloxby. ‘We’re expected to make our own bookings. There’s the town of Hewes not too far away.’

‘Cheapskates! I hope I can still get a room.’

‘I think you have one. Toni Gilmour has been invited and knowing you were away and the possible shortage of rooms, she booked a double at The Jolly Farmer in Hewes.’

The doorbell rang and Mrs Bloxby went to answer it. She came back followed by Bill Wong. Bill was half Chinese and half English. He had a strong Gloucester accent and the only thing oriental about him was his rather beautiful almond-shaped eyes.

‘Hello, Agatha,’ said Bill. ‘Thought I might find you here. You’ve been putting the frighteners on your ex.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Agatha, turning red. ‘How are your parents?’

But Bill was not to be deflected. ‘James phoned me from the Crimea. Told me he saw you. Then when he went to Gallipoli, there you were again. He thinks you’re stalking him.’

‘The vanity of men never ceases to amaze me,’ said Agatha.

‘But what on earth were you doing?’ asked Bill.

‘It’s coincidence, that’s all,’ said Agatha. ‘I was on holiday. I was James’s wife, remember, so I learned a lot about military history.’

‘Oh, really? When was the Battle of Waterloo?’

‘Mr Wong,’ said Mrs Bloxby gently. ‘You are surely off duty and not interrogating a suspect. Tea or coffee?’

‘Coffee, please.’

When she had served coffee, Mrs Bloxby broke the heavy silence between Agatha and Bill by asking Agatha how she would go about fund-raising to save the village pub.

Anxious to escape any further questions from Bill, Agatha began to talk of running an initial campaign in the local papers and then holding a fête to raise money. ‘Maybe I’ll get a smoking celebrity’ she said.

Bill eventually left and drove into police headquarters in Mircester to start his shift.

He decided to phone James, who was staying with his future in-laws in Downboys in Sussex.

‘I spoke to Agatha today, James,’ said Bill. ‘I don’t know what she was doing at the battlefields, but Agatha likes to compete with people. You’d better watch out. Maybe she plans to turn out her own guides. No, I shouldn’t think for a moment she was stalking you.’

Detective Sergeant Collins listened outside Bill’s door. She was jealous of Bill and highly ambitious, so she often listened to his calls, hoping to steal a march on him. But Bill’s call this time seemed to be nothing important. Only some chat about that infuriating Raisin female.

The days before the wedding seemed, to Agatha, to hurtle past and soon she was in her car being driven to Sussex. Agatha had agreed to let Toni drive because her hip was hurting again. A surgeon had told her that she really must begin to think seriously about having a hip operation.

Toni was wearing a leather jacket over a black T-shirt. A broad leather belt was slung low over her slim hips and her black trousers were tucked into a pair of pixie boots. Her fair hair was cut short and layered.

Agatha glanced at her sideways and sighed. Her own figure, although she had lost weight, seemed to sag even more these days. She had been neglecting her exercises. Sometimes early fifties felt young enough to her, but on days like this, seated next to the glowing youth of Toni and going to her ex’s marriage to a gorgeous girl, she felt ancient. Agatha’s legs were still good and her brown hair thick and glossy.

The countryside sped past. ‘Half a league, half a league, half a league onwards,’ muttered Agatha.

‘Oh, we got that at school,’ said Toni. ‘“The Charge of the Light Brigade”.’

Agatha winced. She had forgotten where the quotation came from.

‘What’s in your enormous suitcase?’ asked Toni. ‘We’ll only be there for a couple of days.’

‘Because I don’t know what to wear,’ said Agatha, ‘so I brought as much as I could. I don’t know whether to be dressy or smart casual.’

‘They’ll all be wearing hats like the Duchess of Cornwall,’ said Toni.

‘I haven’t got a hat.’

‘Neither have I. You always look smart.’

‘How’s business going?’

‘We’re actually beginning to make a profit.’

Agatha fought down a surge of competition. Just look where that character defect had got her. Making a right fool of herself. At least she could try to keep clear of James.

Toni hit that idea on the head by saying, ‘There’s some sort of pre-wedding party tonight at Downboys.’

‘Why?’ moaned Agatha. ‘The groom’s not supposed to see the bride before the wedding.’

‘I don’t think that bothers people these days,’ said Toni.

‘Why did you book us in at a pub? Doesn’t Hewes boast a hotel?’

‘It has two. But they’ve been taken over by Felicity’s relatives and friends. I think their accommodation is being paid for. Maybe James didn’t know he was expected to pay for his side of the church. The Jolly Farmer’s pretty reasonable.’

‘I hope that doesn’t mean a communal bathroom.’

‘No, bathroom en suite promised.’

‘I thought you might have wanted to travel down with Harry Beam,’ said Agatha.

‘He’s following us down. As we’re sharing a room, it’s better if we turn up together,’ said Toni.

Hewes was an attractive old market town situated by a river. The pub turned out to be a sort of pub-cum-hotel built round an old courtyard.