'Let's not talk about James.'
'I think we should,' said Charles. 'Look, go and see that therapist I told you about.'
'I don't need a shrink.'
'When it comes to James Lacey, you need your head straightened out.'
'Don't nag me. I'll think about it.'
The glass repair-man came in with the papers for Charles to sign and said he'd have the window fixed in a matter of minutes.
'Time to go,' said Charles at last. 'I wonder if you would mind paying the bill, Aggie. I'm a bit short.'
Agatha was weary by the time she turned down the winding country lane into Carsely. Somehow, she had pictured that in Carsely it would be warm and the sun would be shining, but night had already fallen and frost was glittering on the branches of the trees that spanned the road.
She turned into Lilac Lane. There were lights on in James's cottage and a suffocating feeling of excitement engulfed her. But fear of a cold reception kept her from stopping outside his cottage and rushing in to see him.
Agatha had phoned her cleaner, Doris Simpson, to warn her of her return. When she let herself in, the cottage was warm. Doris had switched on the central heating. On the kitchen table was a casserole with a note of welcome from Mrs. Bloxby.
'Why did I ever leave?' said Agatha aloud. She let the cats out of their boxes and then went out to get her suitcases.
A tall blond woman was just leaving James's cottage. This then must be Mrs. Sheppard, thought Agatha sourly. The woman came towards her. 'Welcome home,' she said, 'You must be Agatha Raisin. I'm Melissa Sheppard.'
'Pleased to meet you,' said Agatha, looking anything but pleased.
'Can I give you a hand in with your luggage?'
Agatha opened her mouth to say a fierce No, but then changed her mind. She simply had to find out how close this woman was to James.
'Very kind of you,' she said instead.
Melissa Sheppard was blond, forty-something, slim but not the siren Agatha had envisaged.
'Just leave that case in the hall,' said Agatha. 'I'll unpack later. Coffee?'
'If it's not too much trouble.'
'None at all. Come into the kitchen.'
'I've just been calling on your neighbours,' said Melissa. 'I took him some of my sponge cakes. These bachelors don't know how to look after themselves.'
'I've always found James pretty self-sufficient,' said Agatha, plugging in the kettle.
'He told me you had investigated several crimes together. Too exciting! And you've been involved in another murder. `Poor old thing,' I said to James, but he said, `Don't worry about Agatha, she's formidable.' ' And Melissa gave a throaty laugh.
'I'm suddenly very tired,' said Agatha. 'Do you mind if we leave coffee to another day?'
'Not at all. I'm always at James's, so we'll be seeing a lot of each other.'
Agatha saw her out and then slammed the door with unnecessary force behind her.
Then she picked up the phone and dialled Charles's number. When he came on the line, she said, 'What's the name of that therapist?'
The following day, Agatha walked along to the vicarage. It was as cold as Fryfam. Perhaps people damned the weather in Norfolk in the hope of consoling themselves that winter in Britain was lousier somewhere else.
Mrs. Bloxby greeted Agatha with delight. 'Come in. I am dying to hear all about your adventures.'
Agatha settled happily into an armchair in the vicarage sitting-room in front of the log fire. 'I'll get tea,' said Mrs. Bloxby.
Agatha had made an appointment with the therapist for the following week. She now dreamt of coming back to Carsely from a visit to the therapist cured of her obsession with James Lacey.
Mrs. Bloxby came in carrying a laden tea-tray. 'The fruitcake's very good. It's a present from Mrs. Sheppard.'
'Oh, her,' said Agatha. 'I met her last night. She seems to be setting her cap at James.'
Mrs. Bloxby's conscience pricked her. She should tell Agatha that James felt he was being hounded day and night by Mrs. Sheppard. But Mrs. Bloxby knew how miserable James had made Agatha in the past. She also knew that James had initially 'come on' to Mrs. Sheppard, as that nasty modem phrase so well described it, and so it was his fault that she was chasing after him, but she said nothing about it, asking instead, 'Now tell me all about Fryfam.'
So Agatha did, and when she got to the end of her adventures, she had a sudden compulsion to tell Mrs. Bloxby about those fairy lights.
' `There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in our philosophy,' ' said Mrs. Bloxby.
'Who the hell's Horatio?' demanded Agatha.
'It's a quote from Hamlet. I probably didn't get it right. I mean, that odd things do happen. On the other hand, if, as you say, some of the villagers were angry with you, then it follows they might have been trying to give you a scare.'
'It could be, but it wasn't just the lights, it was that odd faint laughter. Half of it seemed to be inside my head.'
'Well, don't worry about it. You're home now. Tell me about Charles. He must be very fond of you to stick by you through everything.'
'I don't know what Charles thinks of me,' said Agatha. 'This cake is actually very good. Trust that rotten bitch to make good cakes. Yes, I think Charles gets easily bored and that's why he stayed. The murders provided a diversion for him.'
'That seems a bit heartless.'
'I don't really know what Charles thinks any more than I ever knew what James thought of me.'
'Plenty of men around, Mrs. Raisin.'
'Not for women of my age.'
'Rubbish. You've been so tied up in thoughts of James, you've never really noticed anyone else.'
Agatha was about to tell Mrs. Bloxby about the forthcoming visit to the therapist and then decided against it. It seemed such a weak thing to do, to go to a therapist. It would seem like admitting there was something mentally wrong with her and she couldn't cope on her own.
They talked about parish matters and then Agatha rose to take her leave.
'You are over James, aren't you?' asked Mr. Bloxby on the doorstep.
'Oh, sure, sure,' said Agatha, but she would not meet Mrs. Bloxby's eyes, and she hurried away with her head down.
Doris Simpson, her cleaner, was waiting for her when she got back. 'How's my Wyckhadden cat?' asked Agatha. She had brought a cat back with her from one of her previous 'cases' but had found three cats just too much and the new cat adored Doris and so Doris had taken it over.
'Happy as ever,' said Doris. 'Do you want me cleaning today?'
'It looks fine,' said Agatha. 'Leave it for a couple of days. I haven't unpacked most of my stuff yet.'
The doorbell rang. 'Want me to get it?' asked Doris.
'No, it's all right. Off you go and I'll see you tomorrow.'
Agatha opened the door. Melissa Sheppard stood there. 'Is James here?' she asked brightly. 'I've made him a spinach pie.'
Agatha stepped out into the front garden and looked along at James's cottage. A face glimmered at the window on the halflanding and then disappeared. 'Did you ring his bell?' asked Agatha.
'Yes, but there's no reply.'
I'm sure that was James at that window, thought Agatha, with a sudden burst of hope.
'Maybe he's gone out for a drive,' she said.
'His car's there,' Melissa pointed out.
