escape. That Bill was immensely fond of his parents was transparently easy to see. But Maddie wondered why. Mrs. Wong was a massive, discontented Gloucestershire woman and his father a morose Hong Kong Chinese. The food was frightful: microwaved steak-and-kidney pie with potatoes made from that dehydrated stuff that comes in a packet - just add water - and tinned green peas of the type that oozes a lake of green dye all over the plate. The wine was a sweet Sauterne.
Maddie was beginning to think that Bill Wong was not worth all this effort. He was reckoned to be one of the brightest detectives on the force. Maddie was ambitious. She had thought that if she courted Bill, had an affair with Bill, kept close to Bill, then she could pick his brain, maybe solve the case, and get the kudos. But the murder case was still plodding its way through reams of slow, painstaking investigation, and there didn't seem to be a break anywhere, nor did Bill appear to have been struck by any bright ideas.
She suddenly realized that Mrs. Wong was addressing her. 'Our Bill likes his food,' said Mrs. Wong, 'so you see he gets it.'
'The police canteen looks after his needs,' said Maddie.
'Mother means when you two are married,' said Mr. Wong. Maddie was tough, Maddie was selfish, and Maddie was strong, but at those words she felt a stab of panic. Of course she should have realized what an invitation to dinner in the Wong family home would mean.
'We are not getting married,' she said firmly.
'I haven't even asked her yet,' said Bill with an uneasy laugh.
'Not that we think you're old enough to get married,' Mrs. Wong ploughed on. 'You young people are always rushing into things. Course, as me and dad were saying the other day, grandchildren would be nice. I always wanted a little girl,' she said to Maddie, who was now staring at her plate in fixed embarrassment.
Maddie was then interrogated about her parents, her brother and sister, where they all lived, and whether she intended to remain in her job after she was married to Bill.
'Look,' said Maddie, her own voice sounding shrill in her ears, 'there's been a misunderstanding. I am not going to marry Bill or anyone else at the moment. Now can we change the subject?'
Mr. Wong looked insulted and Bill, miserable. He could not in his heart blame his parents, for had he not told them that Maddie was the only girl for him? But Bill could never find it in his heart to blame his parents for anything.
Maddie was only grateful that she had driven herself to Bill's home. She pleaded a headache directly after dinner and then Bill walked her out to her car.
'You shouldn't have given them the impression we were to be married,' said Maddie harshly.
Bill looked embarrassed. 'Well, they are apt to look at every girl I bring home as a possible daughter-in-law. Don't let it spoil things, Maddie.'
'Good night.'
'When will I see you again?'
'At police headquarters tomorrow.'
'You know what I mean.'
'I'm going to be awfully busy in my spare time.' Maddie slid neatly into the driving-seat, closed the door on Bill's protest, and drove off, without, his policeman's mind noticed, putting her seat-belt on.
He stood there feeling lost. He thought of Agatha and wished she were back in her own cottage, without James. He suddenly wanted to talk to Agatha. She wasn't married to James. Perhaps he could get her to come to the pub with him.
James looked surprised when Bill Wong, with the air of a schoolboy asking if a mate could come out and play, requested to see Agatha for a private conversation.
Agatha appeared in the doorway as well. 'Come in,' said James. 'I'll go out for a walk if you like.'
'No, I'll take Agatha to the pub, if that's all right.'
'Catch up with you later,' said James.
'Leave your car,' said Agatha, joining Bill. 'We'll walk to the Red Lion.'
'I would rather go somewhere more private,' said Bill. 'I don't want Lacey to join us.'
When she was in his car, Agatha asked nervously, 'Am I in trouble?'
He gave her a sad little smile. 'No, I think I am. We'll go to the Royal White Hart in Moreton. Wait till we get there.'
The bar for once was comparatively empty. Autumn had come, the leaves were falling and the tourists had disappeared. One of the difficulties of living in a beauty spot like the English Cotswolds, reflected Agatha, was that, for a good part of the year, it was swamped with tourists; but then one couldn't complain: anyone moving out of his own village automatically became a tourist.
They took seats at the corner of one of the large tables by the fireplace, where a stack of logs was burning brightly.
'So,' said Agatha, 'what's up? No one else murdered, I hope?'
He shook his head. 'It's me and Maddie.'
Agatha felt an irrational stab of jealousy and then reminded herself severely that Bill was in his twenties and she in her fifties. 'What's hatchet face been up to then?' she asked.
Bill grinned. 'I'd almost forgotten how much I liked you.'
Agatha suddenly felt tears welling up in her eyes and fought them back. She wondered if she would ever get used to this new feeling of being liked. It seemed that during her long business life, no one had ever liked Agatha Raisin, and with good reason. The old Agatha had not been either likeable or lovable.
'Go on,' she said.
Bill looked at the firelight shining in the contents of his half-pint glass and said, 'You know I was keen on Maddie.'
'Yes.'
Bill sighed. 'You know something, Agatha, I was born too late. There's something awfully old-fashioned about me. I think when a woman goes to bed with me that it means some sort of commitment.'
'And it didn't?'
'I thought it did. I had the wedding all planned, I had even begun to look at houses. I'd totally forgotten that I had not mentioned any of those rosy dreams to Maddie. I invited her home this evening to meet my parents.'
Agatha was about to say, oh dear, but bit it back. She privately thought that Mr. and Mrs. Wong would be enough to kill love in even the most romantic female breast.
'Well, you know what Mum and Dad are like. They just come out with things. It's not their fault they're so honest.'
It's their fault they're so bloody rude, thought Agatha, but said nothing.
'So Mum assumed we were going to get married, and to tell the truth, I had pretty much assumed the same thing. But Maddie got scared off and I don't think she's going to see me again, outside police work. The pain's awful, Agatha. She was so fed up with me, she drove off without even her seat-belt on.'
'Maybe she'll be all right tomorrow,' said Agatha and then cursed herself for raising false hopes.
His face brightened for a moment and then fell. 'No, I have a gut feeling it's over. You know what rejection feels like, Agatha.'
Agatha pressed his hand, and those tears that she could now not hold back welled up and spilled over onto her cheeks.
'Oh, Agatha,' said Bill, 'I didn't mean to make you cry.'
But Agatha was crying for herself, for losing James, for what seemed to her years of a wasted loveless life devoted to work.
She dried her eyes and pulled herself together with an effort. 'All I can suggest, Bill, is that when you see her tomorrow, you're just as friendly and casual and normal as possible, so that she has nothing to react against. Maybe take some other girl out. But if she still wants you, she'll let you know. If not, then you'll save face.'
Bill grinned. 'I'm only half Chinese and my poor soul is pure Gloucestershire. You're right. But how can any woman make love, spend nights, and then just walk off, just like that?'
Because she thought you were expendable, thought Agatha. Because she thought you would further her career if she could pick your brains, but after meeting your parents and being threatened with marriage, she
