bubble of happiness suddenly burst. For a few hours she had forgotten about Melissa. Fell and Melissa would be in the restaurant as well and her evening would be spoilt by watching the rapture in his face.
She parked outside the house. She and Fell got out. Mrs. Moule hobbled to her garden hedge. “If it isn’t the famous detectives,” she said.
Fell and Maggie stopped still. “What are you talking about?” croaked Fell.
“It’s in the paper, the
“What about?” asked Maggie.
“All about you trying to clear your father’s name.”
“Oh, that,” said Fell bleakly. All his worries about the robbery came rushing back. “Come along, Maggie,” he said. “We’d better go and get a copy.”
They walked along to the local newsagent’s. They bought a copy of the paper and then stood out on the hot and dusty street and gazed down at the headline. “It was that money,” mourned Fell. “Now everyone will think my father really had something to do with it; else why should I talk about clearing his name?”
“We may as well go on with our investigations,” said Maggie hopefully – hopeful that any further investigation would keep them together. But Fell shrugged wearily. “I’m tired of the whole thing. You know, Maggie, when you told me about Fellworth Manor, I had this dream I was going to find a family at last. But all I turned out to be was a bastard no one really wanted, not even my mother.”
I want you, I need you, I love you. How Maggie would have given anything to be able to say those words, but she knew that Fell in the grip of his obsession would feel trapped and suffocated.
Maggie wondered for the first time whether Fell might not be a virgin. No one could obsess more than a celibate. And surely if he had had physical relationships with women, he would not have fallen so heavily for an older woman.
Back home, they opened all the windows and the kitchen door to let in some air. But the evening was close and hot. The house had a half-finished air. The kitchen was all gleaming and new-looking, but the rest had a temporary air.
“We need some pictures for the walls,” said Maggie, looking around the living room. “Those white walls look too naked. And maybe some plants.”
“Maybe,” said Fell indifferently.
Maggie studied his bent head thoughtfully and then said, “If you’re not too tired, we could take a walk down by the river. There might be some air there.”
They shut the doors and windows and walked back out into the close heat of evening. “Do you feel like eating?” asked Maggie. “I’m quite hungry.”
Fell trudged on, wrapped in his thoughts.
“There’s a Chinese restaurant in the High Street,” Maggie continued. “We could get a take-out.”
“Okay,” said Fell listlessly.
People drifted past them in summer clothes, as listless as Fell in the heat, moving like people underwater.
“Oh, look!” said Maggie suddenly. She pointed to the Chinese restaurant, which had a banner outside proclaiming, “Air-Conditioned.”
“We’ll eat inside,” said Maggie. “Fell?”
Fell was standing on the pavement, looking at his feet. She tugged at his arm and then led him inside like a child.
The restaurant was crowded, but a couple was just leaving as they arrived.
As the chill of the air-conditioning surrounded Fell, he suddenly realized he was ravenously hungry.
They ordered the Chef’s Special and a bottle of white wine and ate steadily through multiple dishes, at first in silence, and then Fell began to talk again about the robbery. “I suppose we should go on and find out something. It gave me a shock to see that headline. I didn’t know they were going to publish anything. That reporter was far from honest with us.”
Now was the time to tell Fell that she had a date with ‘that reporter’, but Maggie was too relieved to see him interested and animated once more.
“You spoke about two maintenance workers,” she said instead.
“I, what?” Fell pulled his mind out of a dream of marriage to Melissa.
“Two maintenance workers, on the railway,” prompted Maggie.
“Oh, them. Fred Flint and Johnny Tremp. I suppose we could start with Tremp. There was a J. Tremp in the phone book.” Fell sighed. “Now that we know about the money, I thought we could forget about the whole thing, but that damned reporter has stirred everything up.”
“There’s one thing I just thought of,” said Maggie. “Rudfern said they had kept a close eye on suspects long after the robbery to see if any of them had been spending unusually large sums of money. Surely they would have checked your father’s bank account and noticed the lack of withdrawals and wondered what he was living on.”
“Yes, that is odd. And yet we can’t ask anyone why. I wonder if I should buy a new suit for tomorrow.”
“It’s your money,” said Maggie, lowering her eyes quickly so that he should not see her hate for Melissa in them.
“I’ve been so used to being thrifty, it seems wicked to spend money on another suit.”
“You could compromise. You could buy a new shirt and silk tie.”
Fell brightened. “That’s a good idea. I want to look my best.”
Maggie felt suddenly weary. Perhaps it would be best to forget about Fell altogether.
The next evening, Maggie kept to her room, taking care with her preparations. She somehow could not bring herself to tell Fell she would be in the restaurant at the same time. She carefully put in her new contact lenses and then a soft, leaf green chiffon dress. Maggie had planned to wear this new dress just for Fell, but decided to wear it for Peter. She judged Fell would leave early for the restaurant and so it was. She heard him calling up the stairs, “Bye, Maggie. Don’t wait up.”
Maggie waited until five to eight and then set out, the chiffon dress fluttering about her legs as she made her way to the restaurant.
It was ten past eight by the time she got there. Peter was standing outside the restaurant, smoking a cigarette.
“You look great,” he said, walking forward to meet her. “Do you know Fell’s here already with that harpy who runs the health shop?”
“He said something about it. Why do you call her a harpy?”
He took her arm and led her into the restaurant. “Tell you about it.”
They were led to one of the best tables by an open window overlooking the terrace and the river.
Maggie saw Fell over in a far corner, talking animatedly to Melissa. After they had ordered their food and Peter had ordered wine, Maggie asked again, “Why do you call her a harpy?”
“Just town gossip. She was warned against starting that business. I mean this is Buss, where the population’s idea of health food is fish and chips. So instead to taking advice and selling off the place, she dug her heels in and said she could make it pay. Now she’s looking for someone with money. I suppose that’s why she’s after your fiance.”
“Fell’s very attractive,” said Maggie loyally.
“Well, I suppose you must think so.”
“We were upset by your story, dragging all that stuff up again. You might at least have warned us you were going to write something.”
“My boss’s idea,” said Peter. “Honest.”
“Are you sure you didn’t ask me out just to find out more?”
Peter smiled at Maggie. “I fancy you rotten, Maggie Part-lett.”
“Me!”
“I’ve always wanted to meet a girl with green eyes who wore an apron.”
Maggie laughed. “You just want a mother.”
“Don’t we all. I’m the only man who’s honest about it.”
Fell heard that familiar laugh and looked across the restaurant. In the candlelight, Maggie’s face was glowing
