He turned up half an hour later, which had given Agatha time to bathe her face in cold water and put on fresh make-up.
She was glad to see Charles, even though she occasionally found him irritating. He had fair hair and neat features and was as self-contained and independent as a cat.
He carried a large hamper into the garden and began to set things out on the garden table.
“Duck breasts in aspic, asparagus, champagne … you really must have thought a lot of this girl.”
“She is very ornamental,” said Charles. “Unfortunately for me, she knows it.”
They ate companionably while Agatha told him about the Smedley case.
“Might go with you,” said Charles. “Mind if I stay the night?”
“No, you know where the spare room is.”
“I’ve got my bag in the car. I’ll get it later.”
The sun slowly set behind the trees at the bottom of the garden. Agatha thought uneasily about her burst of tears. It all seemed like madness now.
