Nancy Atherton - Aunt Dimity's Good Deed

“Lori’s driving down to Haslemere,” said Emma, looking pointedly at her husband.

“Is she?” Derek said.

“Yes, she is,” I replied. “As soon as I’ve made sure that Gerald’s at home.” Without waiting for further discussion, I dialed Gerald’s number and listened in disappointment while a recorded message informed me that, due to a fault on the line, the call could not be completed. Sighing, I let the receiver fall into its cradle, then jumped—as did the others—when the telephone rang under my hand.

I snatched it up. “Hello?” I said eagerly.

“Hello back at you, Lori-my-love.”

“Bill!” I exclaimed, astonished. It was nearly noon in Finch, but dawn had barely cracked back in Boston. “Oh, Bill, I’m so glad to hear your—”

“Listen, Lori, I don’t have much time,” Bill interrupted, sounding breathless and preoccupied. “There’s been a change of venue. Reeves Biddiford has decided to move the meeting up to the family lodge on Little Moose Lake, and he’s sending a car around to take me to the airport. We’re flying up early so we can get in some fishing before we begin our discussions.”

“Fishing?” I said.

“Fishing?” Derek echoed in the background.

“Reeves thinks it’ll soothe his savage relatives,” Bill explained. “If he’s right, we may be on the verge of a major breakthrough, Lori. If I handle it properly, I may be able to wrap the whole mess up by next week.”

“But, Bill—”

“Sorry, love, the car’s here and I’ve got to run. Tell Father I said hello. I love you. I’ll call. Bye for now.” And before I could get in so much as an “I love you, too,” my husband had hung up.

I set the phone down gently and turned to my attentive audience. “That was Bill,” I announced unnecessarily. “He’s gone fishing.”

“Fishing?” repeated Derek. “Bill?”

My husband was notoriously sedentary. He wore thick, black-framed glasses, carried an extra twenty pounds around his middle, and had the prison pallor and slouched shoulders of a dedicated desk-jockey. The Harrises knew as well as I did that the last time Bill had gone fishing he’d tripped over his own waders and fallen headlong into an icy Scottish trout stream.

“He’ll be in a boat this time,” I explained lamely, “on a lake up in Maine. It has something to do with the negotiations he’s working on.” It suddenly occurred to me that I had no idea how to get in touch with Bill at Little Moose Lake. “Wonderful,” I groaned, my shoulders slumping. “Now I’ve lost my father-in-law and my husband.”

“And Reginald,” Nell reminded me.

“Hush,” said her father, coming to stand by my side.

“Now, Lori,” Emma soothed, “you haven’t lost them. You’ve merely misplaced them. Temporarily. I’m sure that Bill’s secretary will be able to tell you how to get in touch with him.”

“And I have some suggestions about finding William,” Derek added. I looked up at him hopefully. “First off, we’ll ring the local constabulary in Haslemere and ask them to keep a lookout for the Mercedes. They might even be willing to stop William and get a message through to him.”

“That’s a fine idea,” said Emma. “And if you still need to go down to Haslemere, I’ll drive you.”

“A capital plan,” Derek agreed, “except for one thing. I’ll drive Lori to Haslemere.” He wagged a grubby index finger at his wife. “No, my dear, can’t have you deserting the dahlias in August.”

“But you have to fix the church roof,” Emma countered.

“Wait a minute,” I said. Emma’s leaden hints had been falling thick and fast all morning, so I was ready to call a halt to what was clearly a manufactured argument. Emma and Derek weren’t fighting for the privilege of conveying me to Haslemere, they were trying to stop me from getting behind the wheel and driving there myself. They had no faith whatsoever in my driving skills. They were afraid I’d put the Mini in a ditch or wrap it around a light pole, or something worse. They were, in my opinion, overreacting.

I wasn’t that bad a driver. It was true that I was occasionally rattled by oncoming traffic when driving on the wrong side of the road. It was also true that I tended to hug the verge in self-defense. And I could scarcely deny that I’d flattened four side mirrors against the hedgerows lining the narrow lanes around Finch, and scraped enough paint off the passenger‘s-side door to keep Mr. Barlow busy for weeks with his retouching tools. But I’d never had an actual collision with another vehicle, and I’d ended up in a ditch only once, when the sharp bend near the Pym sisters’ house had been covered with ice.

“Thank you for your concern,” I went on, “but we’re not calling the police, and neither one of you is driving me to Haslemere.” I raised my hand to silence Derek’s protest. “If Aunt Dimity’d thought the police could help, she would’ve told me to call them, just as she would’ve told me to take the train if that had been a better idea. But she didn’t. She told me to drive down to Haslemere, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

“Train’s a good idea,” Derek muttered, folding his arms. “What in the word could be so essential about having a car?”

“Who knows?” I said. “Maybe I’ll have to make a fast getaway. Derek,” I went on, more gently, “listen to me. Do you honestly think that Dimity would have come back from two years of resting in peace if she didn’t think William was in serious trouble?”

Derek lowered his eyes and shrugged.

“But that shouldn’t keep you from letting one of us do the driving,” Emma persisted.

“You’d have a nervous breakdown if I dragged you away from the garden right now,” I told her firmly. “And as you pointed out, Derek has a roof to repair. I won’t be held responsible for a dripping bishop. He’s not a well man as it is, and—”

“Be that as it may,” said Derek, drawing himself up to his full and considerable height, “I can’t possibly permit you to drive all that way by yourself. Even if you don’t crash the Mini, you’re sure to get lost. You’ve never even been to Haslemere.”

“Bertie and I have,” Nell said quietly. She rose to stand between her father and stepmother. “We’ve driven with Lori, too. She’s a good-enough driver, as long as she has someone with her to watch for signs and read the road maps. And I’m brilliant with maps. You said so yourself, Papa.”

Was Nell volunteering to come with me? I looked at her, surprised, and a little sheepish. I hadn’t treated her very nicely so far today, and I wanted to make it up to her. If she felt the need to come along, I’d give her my support. I wouldn’t mind the company, and, besides, she really was good at reading maps.

Derek rubbed his jaw. “I don’t know, Nell ... Dimity implied that the situation might be dangerous.”

“I’ll look after Nell,” I promised. “I’ll see to it that she fastens her seat belt and doesn’t come to any harm.”

“And Nell’s perfectly capable of looking after herself,” Emma reasoned.

“Please, Papa,” Nell added, and Ham trotted over to nuzzle Derek’s hand.

What choice did the poor man have? He was outnumbered, three to one—four to one, counting Ham. He nodded, grudgingly, and Nell flew into his arms.

“With two provisos,” he added. “No driving after dark, and no driving in London.”

“Done.” I got up from my chair. “Remember—not a word to Bill about this. If he calls, tell him ...”

“Tell him we’ve gone to Saint Bartholomew’s to see the bells,” Nell suggested.

“Perfect.” I smiled approvingly at Nell. “Now, a quick bite of lunch before we leave, I think.”