now,” she said.
“So no hope for me?”
“I’m afraid not, Peter.”
“Oh, well, that’s life.” He put his arms around her and kissed her full on the mouth. “Remember me if it comes unstuck.”
Fell saw the embrace and felt a pain deep inside him. It struck him just how much he had come to rely on Maggie’s company, on her warmth and strength and sympathy. It was only fair to urge Maggie to tell Peter that their engagement was a sham.
When she came back into the hotel, he really meant to tell her, but she said, “What will we do now?”
He replied, “I think we should phone Dunwiddy and tell him we’re going home.” And instead of saying she should now tell Peter that the engagement was off, he found himself saying, “We need some relaxation. And you haven’t worn your new dress. After I’ve phoned Dunwiddy, I’ll phone the French restaurant and make a reservation for this evening.”
¦
When they got back home, a policeman was already on duty outside the house. Maggie made him coffee and took it out to him. Fell could see her chatting and laughing with the policeman. It seemed incredible that such a short time ago he would have been delighted to be rid of Maggie.
He would not admit to himself when she came back indoors that his next suggestion was prompted by a desire to keep her with him as long as possible. “I think we should take a break from all our worries and get a builder in to see if we can make a new kitchen,” he said.
“Good idea,” said Maggie. “Will you need permission from the council for the alteration?”
“I shouldn’t think so. Instead of knocking down a wall, we could keep the old kitchen and just use it as a scullery. That way we could avoid planning permission.”
“You’ve got letters there? Aren’t you going to read them?”
Fell picked up the letters and sat down and flipped through them. They were from his relatives. One, from his Aunt Agnes, blamed Maggie for the whole thing, saying she had thought that Maggie looked like “one of them terrorists.”
The others, from Tom and Barbara and Fred, said pretty much all the same thing, and that his sainted parents would be turning in their graves.
“Not one word of sympathy!” said Fell, throwing them down in disgust. “You would think nearly getting blown up was my fault.” He looked bleakly at the letters scattered on the floor.
“Better phone them up and tell them you’re all right,” said Maggie.
“Why? I bet all I’d get is a load of recriminations.”
“I’m weary. I think I’ll have a bath and an hour’s sleep.” Maggie got to her feet. “I just want to switch off. We’ve got the evening to look forward to.”
“The box!” exclaimed Fell. “I’d better have a look in the garden and make sure the police haven’t dug it up.”
He headed for the garden. “If they had,” Maggie called after him, “they would have told us right away.”
Fell looked uneasily at the patch where the box was buried. Nothing seemed to have been disturbed.
“Coo-ee! Mr. Dolphin!”
Fell jumped nervously.
“I’m up here.”
Fell turned round and located the source of the voice. He could see a little of old Mrs. Moule’s face peering through the branches of a tree. So that was how she had seen him the night when they thought they had been digging a grave for Andy Briggs.
“I just want to thank you for my windows,” she called.
“Least I could do.”
“Thanks anyway. Bring your young lady in for tea sometime.”
“Will do.”
The face retreated. Fell looked thoughtfully at where the cash box was buried. At least, with his inheritance safely in the bank, he would not need to use the cash box. Still, he wished he could dig it up and put it somewhere he could get at it without being observed.
He went back into the house He could hear Maggie running a bath upstairs. He thought he would follow her example by catching some sleep.
He went up to his room and looked around. Before he decided on a new kitchen, he should really redecorate this room. It reminded him of Mr. and Mrs. Dolphin and of his unhappy childhood. Perhaps he and Maggie could forget about this wretched train robbery and concentrate on getting the whole house liveable. Maggie would know what to do. But Maggie might not be around for much longer, judging by the way Peter had kissed her.
¦
Fell was waiting in the sitting room that evening when Maggie came in. She was wearing the new black dress. The low-cut neckline showed off the tops of a pair of full and firm white breasts. Maggie was wearing her contact lenses and her hair shone in the lamplight.
“What do you think?” she asked, pirouetting in front of him.
“Fine, but the neckline’s a bit low.”
“Oh.” Maggie’s face fell with disappointment. “Should I wear something else?”
“No, no, you look great. I don’t know why I said that. It’s just…funny…I don’t know. I haven’t been in the way of thinking of you as a woman. I mean…”
“I know what you mean,” said Maggie stiffly. “Shall we go?”
¦
Maggie’s hand hovered over the ignition in the car and then dropped. “I’m frightened to switch it on.”
The policeman on guard came over. “Anything wrong, miss?” he asked, leaning in the open window. He was looking right down Maggie’s cleavage, thought Fell crossly.
“Silly,” said Maggie. “I’m frightened of another bomb.”
“No one’s touched that car while you’ve been inside, miss, but release the hood and I’ll check inside. Then you’ll feel all right.”
He inspected the engine, then he crawled underneath the car, emerging finally to give Maggie a beaming smile. “All clear.”
“Oh, thank you. You are kind,” said Maggie. She and the policeman smiled warmly at each other.
“Can we go?” demanded Fell testily. As Maggie let in the clutch and moved off, Fell added, “There’s no need to go overboard, Maggie. He’s only doing his job.”
“He’s nice.”
“If you say so,” said Fell grumpily. Maggie should stay plain Maggie and not go around flaunting her bosoms in a slinky black dress.
Maggie parked in the car park and they walked around to the front of the restaurant, which faced the river.
“Look,” said Maggie, clutching Fell’s arm and pointing to the sky.
“What?”
“A cloud. Quite a big one. Do you think the heat is going to be over at last?”
“It’s bound to end soon and then we’ll all be terribly British and complain about the rain.”
They went into the restaurant and were given the table at the window they had had on the day that Fell had ‘proposed’. How grateful I was then for so little, thought Maggie, and now it’s not enough.
Fell stiffened and raised the menu to hide his face. Maggie twisted around. Melissa Harley was at a table over by the far wall. She was talking animatedly to a middle-aged businessman.
And then, as Maggie turned back, she thought she saw a face she recognized. Fell, cautiously lowering the menu, saw her frown.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing. I thought I recognized someone, but I haven’t a good memory for faces.”
“It’s Melissa.”
“I know. I saw her. It’s not her, it’s a blonde woman at a table along from her.”
