M Beaton: There Goes The Bride

By the end of January, she found a new friend. She had taken time off from work to look round the market in Mircester, buying up local produce and meat, determined to eat healthily, trying to shove to the back of her mind that she would end up as usual putting something in the microwave and giving what she had bought to Doris Simpson. She was standing at the fruit and vegetable stall when a woman next to her dropped her shopping bag and carrots and onions rolled out on to the street. Agatha helped her pick them up.

‘Thanks,’ said the woman. ‘I really am clumsy.’

‘That’s all right,’ said Agatha with a rare burst of honesty. ‘I’m pretty clumsy myself.’

She studied Agatha’s face. ‘Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?’

‘My photo’s been in the newspapers,’ said Agatha proudly.

‘I know! You’re that famous detective! Agatha Raisin.’

‘That’s me.’

‘Look. I’ve just moved into the area. Can I buy you lunch?’

Agatha studied her. She was possibly in her forties with expensively blonded hair, a smooth, lightly tanned face and wearing a mink coat. Wearing a mink coat in broad daylight took courage in these days of political correctness. There was a heavy gold necklace at her throat and a Rolex on her wrist.

‘All right,’ said Agatha. ‘But I can’t be away from the office too long.’

Over lunch in The George hotel, the woman introduced herself as Charlotte Rother. She listened, fascinated, as Agatha recounted her adventures. By the time the coffee arrived, Agatha realized guiltily that she hadn’t asked her new companion about herself.

‘There’s not much to tell,’ said Charlotte. ‘I’m a divorcee. My husband was very, very rich and gave me a handsome settlement. Fortunately, we don’t have any children. I was living in London, but I’m tired of cities. I’ve bought a cottage in Ancombe. Do you know it?’

‘Yes,’ said Agatha. ‘It’s quite near me. I live in Carsely.’

‘Do you have one of those thatched cottages?’

‘Yes.’

‘So pretty, but surely very expensive to maintain.’

‘Thatching does cost a lot. What type of place do you have?’

‘It’s a bungalow. Not very attractive. But the area is pretty and I have a good garden. Are you interested in gardening?’

‘I really don’t have the time. I get a man round to keep what’s there tidy.’

Charlotte had a singularly warm and charming smile. ‘Why don’t you come and visit me this weekend and I’ll show you the place.’

Agatha thought of the empty weekend looming up and said cheerfully, ‘I’d love to.’

‘Come for lunch. About one. Do you know where the church is in Ancombe?’

‘Yes, right in the middle.’

‘As you drive past, coming from Carsely, count along six houses after the church and I am the seventh on the left. It’s got a short drive and it’s bordered by a high hedge, so don’t miss it.’

‘I won’t.’ Agatha smiled. ‘And as I am going to lunch at your place, I insist on paying for this lunch. No. No arguments.’

They exchanged cards and when she went back to the office, Agatha felt pleased with her new friend. Of course, Mrs Bloxby was really her best friend, but the vicar’s wife was often busy and had too many parish commitments to go out for meals or to the theatre.

She did not talk to anyone about Charlotte. She wanted to keep her to herself.

So Agatha was really annoyed when her doorbell rang on Saturday morning to find Roy Silver on her doorstep, complete with overnight bag.

‘Roy! I’m usually glad to see you,’ said Agatha, ‘but I’ve got an important lunch date. You should have phoned.’

‘I’m sorry. I’m having a horrible time.’ Tears began to run down Roy’s face.

‘Oh, come in, do. Tell me what’s been happening.’

Roy followed her into the kitchen. ‘I got an offer from another PR agency.’

‘Which one?’

‘Atherton’s.’

‘They’re very big.’

‘I was so excited,’ said Roy, mopping his eyes. ‘I went round to see them as arranged. I was interviewed by Bertha Atherton.’

‘Snakes and bastards. She’s a complete cow.’

‘So it turns out. I had just got handed the Duluxe make-up launch. Bertha offered me a lot of money. I said I’d join them.’

‘Let me guess,’ said Agatha. ‘She then went straight to Duluxe and said she was hiring their PR so it would be better all round if they moved the account to her.’

‘That’s it. Duluxe told Pedman’s and Mr Pedman called me in and gave me such a bawling-out.’

‘Did he fire you?’

‘No, I swore blind that Atherton’s had called me round for an interview and had offered me a lot of money and all I said was that I would think about it. I mean, I didn’t sign anything. I don’t think she recorded anything. There was to be a further meeting next week.’

‘During which time,’ said Agatha, ‘Bertha would find out whether she could winkle the account away from Pedman’s, and if she couldn’t she’d simply have phoned you up and said she’d changed her mind.’

‘That’s it. Everyone in the office is treating me like a leper. And there’s a new PR snapping at my heels and trying to take the account away from me.’

‘Has Pedman shown any sign of doing that?’

‘No.’

‘Then he won’t. Do a good job with Duluxe.’ Agatha bit her lip. She had been accused before of having a cavalier attitude towards her old friends.

‘Unpack your bag and leave me to phone,’ she said.

As soon as Roy had trailed upstairs to the spare bedroom to unpack, Agatha found Charlotte’s card and phoned her.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Charlotte gaily. ‘Bring your friend along. There’s masses to eat.’

‘Now, I want you to be charming,’ lectured Agatha as she drove Roy to Ancombe.

‘I’m always charming,’ said Roy sulkily.

‘Right. Here’s the church. Now I’ve got to count the houses. Right, here we are. Yes, she does have a big hedge. If she wants to garden, she’ll need to cut that down a bit. It must cut off light from half the garden.’

The inside of Charlotte’s sitting room came as something of a shock. Agatha thought that someone with such impeccable dress sense as Charlotte would have had something classier in the way of furnishings. There was an oatmeal-coloured three-piece suite in front of a glass coffee table. A rather noisy flowery wallpaper covered the walls. Beside the sofa was one of those cheap nests of tables one got in DIY shops. The curtains at the windows were of the awful frilly scalloped kind looking like so many knicker-covered backsides. The fire was a two-bar electric one with fake logs.

‘Awful, isn’t it?’ said Charlotte. ‘I bought the whole place, furniture and all. I’ll be getting rid of this lot soon.’

Agatha introduced Roy. Over pre-lunch drinks, Roy poured out his tale of woe, much to Agatha’s annoyance, but Charlotte was sympathetic. Agatha revealed that she used to work in public relations herself and both women then set about cheering Roy up by suggesting outrageous ways in which he could promote Duluxe.

Lunch was delicious. Smoked salmon was followed by roast pheasant with roast parsnips and roast potatoes and broccoli. Dessert was that Cotswold favourite – icky-sticky pudding.

Agatha could feel the waistband of her skirt tightening and envied Charlotte her slim figure.

When she and Roy were leaving, Agatha suggested that she and Charlotte should meet up during the week. Charlotte said she had to go to London but would phone Agatha immediately she got back.

Before Roy left, Agatha had drafted out a whole series of proposals for the launch of Duluxe. As soon as he got to the office on Monday morning, Roy sent the proposals in to Mr Pedman, without mentioning Agatha’s name, and found himself back in favour again. He was told that Sarah Andrews, director of Duluxe, wished to take him out to dinner that evening at the Ivy restaurant.