To make matters worse, when the elderly began to arrive and Agatha made to get out of the car, she stifled a groan and clutched her hip. 'I'll help you out,' said Toni.
'Leave me alone,' howled Agatha.
She rubbed her hip furiously while she watched the old folks totter up the short drive to the centre.
'Is something up with your hip?' asked Toni nervously.
'There is nothing up with me,' raged Agatha. 'It was that long drive.'
'I can do some of the driving,' said Toni. 'I got my licence first time off.'
'I may let you.' Toni as a novice driver might give Agatha something to feel superior about.
When they entered the community centre, a stout matron was ushering men and women--mostly women--to seats at a long table where cakes and sandwiches had been laid out.
Agatha approached her. 'I am a private detective,' she said. 'I am investigating the death of Phyllis Tamworthy, whose name when she was brought up in this village was Phyllis Wright.'
'I think you should wait until they have had their tea,' said the woman. 'For some of them it's the only food they get. Pensions don't go far these days. I'm Gladys.'
'I'm Agatha and this is Toni.'
'If you and your daughter would like to sit over in the corner, I'll ask them when they've settled down.'
'She's not my...' began Agatha, but Gladys had walked away.
Agatha watched the elderly ladies. She watched the wrinkled hands, some of them trembling as they reached for sandwiches. Is this what we all must come to? she wondered sadly.
Toni covertly watched Agatha. Had she offended her in some way? She owed Agatha so much. Gratitude did weigh heavily, like a physical load.
'I'm sorry,' said Agatha suddenly. 'I'm feeling a bit off-colour. I think if we find anything worthwhile here, we'll check into a hotel somewhere.'
Toni was about to say she would not mind driving back, but stopped herself. She had a feeling that the ferociously independent Agatha Raisin wouldn't like that suggestion.
There was very little conversation amongst the elderly. For long periods, the only sounds were the clinking of cups and the chewing of jaws.
At last Gladys strode into the centre of the room. 'Ladies and gentlemen,' she said, 'these ladies want to know if anyone remembers...who was it?'
'Phyllis Wright,' said Agatha.
There was a gentle murmuring and then a very old lady croaked out. 'I 'member her. She were at t'school same time as me.'
Another one said, 'War she the fatty in Miss Gilchrist's class?'
'Aye, that be her,' said the first woman. 'Teacher's pet. Allus sucking up to teacher and putting on airs but she warn't nobody.'
'I don't suppose Miss Gilchrist is still alive,' said Agatha.
'Her died...when was it?' said the first woman.
'Right after her gave Phyllis a right bollocking. Said her had cheated.'
'What did she die of?' asked Agatha.
'What's your name?'
'Agatha.'
'I'm Joan and this here is Rose. Her died o' a heart attack and her so young. Course she seemed old to us then but she was about thirty or so.'
'When did Phyllis leave the village?'
Joan sighed. 'Good thing you're asking us about them old days. Can't right remember yesterday, but the old days are as clear as clear. Let me see. Her was working over at Bessop's Factory. Sauce makers they were. Now Hugh Tamworthy, he war a brickie and he war engaged to Carrie Shufflebottom. Then he won the pools. Next thing we know, Phyllis had got her hands on him and they disappeared for a bit and came back married. The brickworks over at Rumton was going under and Hugh bought it. They took a bungalow out o' the village in the country cos no one in the village would speak to them cos o' Carrie.'
'Where is Carrie now?' asked Agatha.
'You'll find her at Sun Cottage, right at the end. Go back past the post office and out that way. The last one you come to.'
Outside, Toni said, 'Phyllis is beginning to sound like one copper-bottomed bitch.'
'Let's hope this Carrie has all her marbles,' said Agatha. 'Seems a shame. Those two we were talking to must be the same age as Phyllis was and yet Phyllis seemed pretty hail and hearty. Oh, God,' said Agatha passionately, 'I hope I don't end up like those poor old souls.'
Sun Cottage belied its name. It faced north and was built of red brick, still sooty from the days of coal.
'I wonder if Carrie ever married?' Agatha pushed open a rickety wooden gate and led the way through a small weedy front garden. She rang the bell. A dingy lace curtain at a window to the right of the door twitched. Then the door opened.
Carrie Shufflebottom was proof that even the tremendously obese can live to old age. She was a massive woman with a large round rosy face and faded blue eyes. Her iron-grey hair was still thick.
'What?' she demanded.
Agatha patiently explained what they were doing and what they wanted to know.
'You'd best come in,' she said, turning away, her large hips brushing against each wall of a narrow passage.
They followed her into a dark front parlour. The room was cold and sparsely furnished. Carrie sank down into a large battered armchair. Agatha and Toni sat on an equally battered sofa. A canary in a cage by the window chirped dismally and a rising wind moaned in the chimney. A grandfather clock in the corner gave a genteel cough before chiming out the hour.
'I'm not offering you tea,' said Carrie. 'I've just had mine.' Cake crumbs were strewn across her bosom. She was wearing a man's shirt and tracksuit bottoms and trainers.
'So you want to know if anyone from around here might have wanted to murder Phyllis?' said Carrie. Her voice was surprisingly light and pleasant and not marred by the strong local accent of the villagers they had met. 'I could have murdered her myself. Hugh Tamworthy was a good man. But innocent. The minute he won that pools money, she threw herself at him. She made my life a misery when we were both at school, poking fun at my name. I only saw Hugh one more time after his wedding. About two years after they were married he called round here, right out of the blue. He was that upset. I hoped for one mad moment that he'd come back to me.' She gave a wry smile. 'Men can be so insensitive. He came to tell me he'd fallen in love with a girl who worked in the office at the brickworks. He said he was going to ask Phyllis for a divorce. He said Phyllis didn't want children and he'd always wanted children. The girl's name was Susan Mason. I'm afraid I lost my temper and told him to get out. I said he'd jilted me and hurt me badly.'
'But he didn't divorce Phyllis,' said Agatha.
'I heard later two things had happened. Phyllis was pregnant with her first child and Susan had disappeared. She left the office one night and no one saw her again. The search went on and on but they never found her. Phyllis had a hell of a temper. She probably threatened the girl. Soon afterwards, they sold the brickworks and bought another one down south somewhere.'
'Did you ever marry?' asked Toni.
'I decided to get an education. I went to university and ended up teaching at the village school until the government closed it down. Not a very adventurous life. No, I never married.'
'Are any of Susan's family still alive?'
'There's a younger sister over in Stoke. Wanda. She married quite well. Married an accountant. What was his name? I know. Mark Nicholson. Hand me that phone book over there.'
'Over there' was the floor under the table. Toni handed her the phone book and she riffled through the pages. 'Here we are. This must be him. Take a note.' Agatha fished a notebook out of her handbag. 'Mark Nicholson, 5, Cherry Tree Close, Stafford Road, Stoke-on-Trent.'
