Fell headed home, just in time to see the television van arriving. What, he wondered guiltily, would the elderly neighbours on either side make of an aerial being erected on the roof and a television set being carried indoors right after his mother's death? He felt suddenly ashamed, but he had used up his small stock of courage for the day and somehow could not tell the television men he had changed his mind.
He tipped the men, and when they had left, decided to watch something on television.
A ring at the doorbell.
He jumped guiltily and somehow his thoughts immediately flew to the money in the cash box, now diminished by a wad of notes in his wallet.
He opened the door. The vicar, Mr. Sneddon, stood on the step.
His heart sank. He did not like Mr. Sneddon, for Mr. Sneddon was unoriginal. He had read about Mr. Sneddon in many books, the trendy clap-happy vicar with a burning desire to attract the spotty youth of Buss to the church while disaffecting all his regulars. It is all very irritating when a character who has been written to death turns up on one's doorstep.
Mr. and Mrs. Dolphin had been regular attenders while the old vicar had been in office, but Mrs. Dolphin had latterly given up going to church, sitting behind the lace curtains in the living room watching the world go by.
'Come in,' said Fell, thinking, no lace curtains ever again.
The vicar came in and sat down. He was wearing a scarlet shell suit and trainers. He had very big feet. People with very big feet should not wear trainers, thought Fell, because those feet dominated the small room.
'My boy,' began the vicar, who was about the same age as Fell, 'this is a dark day for you.'
'Indeed,' murmured Fell.
'I gather the undertakers, Taylor and Fenwick, have all the arrangements?'
'Yes, the lawyer is kindly attending to everything.'
'I will gladly officiate. Are there any special hymns you would like?'
'I would like `To Be a Pilgrim,' the Twenty-third Psalm, and `Onward Christian Soldiers.''
The vicar frowned. 'I feel that `Onward Christian Soldiers' is a teensy bit militant.'
Fell was about to back down, but suddenly found himself saying calmly, 'Those are the hymns Mother would have wanted. And the burial service from the old Book of Common Prayer.'
'But we must move with the times and-'
'The old Book of Common Prayer. I-I mean Motherpreferred it.'
'Very well,' said the vicar reluctantly.
After the vicar had left, Fell suddenly wanted to get out of the house. He decided to go for a walk. The river Buss bisected the town, flowing between the old castle gardens. Buss Castle had been a second home in medieval times of one of the Earls of Warwick. It was now owned by the National Trust. Its thick walls plunged straight down into the glassy waters of the river, where launches and barges ploughed up and down and willow trees trailed their new leaves in the water.
The castle gardens were almost deserted. Fell sat down on a bench by the river as two swans cruised past. I'm like that, thought Fell. Serene on the top and the little paddles of my brain working furiously underneath. Why all that cash?
His parents had surely been law-abiding-strictly so. His father had always been complaining about layabouts and drug takers. Why not put the money in the bank? Had it been hidden from the tax man? But why? If it had been legally come by ...
His busy thoughts turned to Maggie. It would be nice to have a confidante. Maggie was kind and trustworthy. Fell was not nervous in her presence, because he did not see her as a woman. In his many fantasies, women were always tall and beautiful and long-legged. Perhaps he might have asked a woman out in the past, but that would have meant asking his parents for the money to entertain her and then facing endless questions. And the fact was that both his dumpy little parents had possessed very powerful and domineering personalities. His father had given up beating him when he was twelve, but Fell could still remember the terror he had experienced when his mother would utter those dreaded words, 'Your father will deal with you when he gets home.' Then the waiting to endure the beating on the bare backside with his father's leather belt. He had never spoken to anyone about those beatings and had assumed for a long time after they had stopped that they were all part of parenting.
He rose and walked up the main street. So many shops containing so many things he could now buy if he wanted. He stood outside a men's outfitter's and then stared at his dim reflection in the shop window. His suit was shabby and the material cheap.
Again he thought of the money. He should really share it with the few relatives he had. But he would put it off until the funeral.
He bought himself fish and chips, went home and switched on the television set and lost himself in the moving coloured pictures until midnight.
He rose early next morning and with a new feeling of adventure went to the local Marks & Spencer and bought a blazer, trousers, striped shirt and silk tie. Then he went to the jeweller's. He would need to buy a ring for Maggie. At first as he looked at the engagement rings, he thought that anything simple might do. But at last he shook his head and refused them all. Maggie was doing him a great favour. Why not buy her a ring that she could keep, something more original?
He went into an antique shop where he knew they had a case of jewellery. With great care he finally selected a Victorian heavy gold ring, with a large square-cut emerald. The price made his eyelids blink rapidly. He paid cash, but with a dark little worm of doubt again plaguing his brain. Where had the money come from? He banished the thought and retired home and changed into his new clothes. He was beginning to feel like a totally different person.
Maggie was nervously waiting outside the striped awning of the restaurant, which was in an old Georgian mansion beside the river in the castle gardens. Fell would never know what pains Maggie had gone to with her appearance. She was wearing a long biscuit-coloured linen skirt, a tailored jacket and a lemon silk blouse. Fell only saw reassuringly familiar Maggie.
They went into the restaurant. The restaurant, although very grand, did not intimidate Fell. He was armoured in his new clothes. He had left shabby Fell behind.
They were given a table by the French windows which opened onto the terrace.
'You order for me,' whispered Maggie. 'I eat anything.'
Fell ordered a simple meal of cucumber soup, followed by poached salmon and salad, and then with great daring also ordered a bottle of champagne. When the waiter had gone off with his order, he produced the jeweller's box and handed it to Maggie. 'It's for you,' he said. 'You may as well look the part.'
Maggie opened the box. The emerald blazed up at her. She caught her breath. She was suddenly intensely aware of everything, of the sunlight sparkling off the cutlery, of the peppery smell of the geraniums in pots on the terrace, of the chuckling sound of the river.
'It's beautiful,' she said. 'Is it real?'
'I hope so.'
'I'll give it back to you.'
'No, don't do that. I wanted to give you something special, something you could keep.'
Maggie gave a shaky laugh. 'It matches my eyes.'
Fell looked at her, puzzled.
'See?' She removed her heavy glasses. Her eyes were very large and green with flecks of gold.
'You have beautiful eyes,' said Fell. 'You should wear contact lenses.'
Those eyes filled with tears. 'What's the matter?' asked Fell quickly.
Maggie took out a handkerchief and dried her eyes and put her glasses firmly back on. 'I'm just tired, Fell, that's all. You know what it's like. The last customers didn't leave until one in the morning. Now, first I had to tell my mother about our engagement. She doesn't know it's a pretend engagement and wants to meet you. I told her you were too grief-stricken, and then afterwards I can tell her it's all off.'
'I hate making you lie for me.'
'I always lie to my mother anyway. It's a form of selfprotection. My father's dead. Mother always says I'll never get a man, so from time to time I invent a boyfriend. They never jilt me, you know, they either die or go abroad. Anyway, enough about me. What do you want to talk to me about?'
Fell had meant to tell her only about the inheritance. But somehow, under her sympathetic eyes, he found
