Agatha Raisin Kissing Christmas Goodbye

'Just newly eighteen.'

'That is an age difference. Now if you were forty-five and she was thirty, it really wouldn't matter. But eighteen! What's her name?'

'Toni Gilmour.'

'Antonia Gilmour. Is she one of the Guiting Power Gilmours?'

'No, she is one of the council estate in Mircester Gilmours and I'll bet she was actually christened Toni.'

'Does she work?'

'As a detective for Agatha Raisin.'

'That woman who gets herself into the newspapers? What's she like, this Raisin woman?'

'Tough, pushy, good hair, good legs, small eyes.'

'American?'

'British.'

Mrs Pyson studied her son with a worried crease between her brows. She was a small, dainty woman with thick white hair and a neat figure.

'The point is this,' she said. 'If by any chance she is in love with you -'

'She's not. But she could be.'

'The fact is that the person one loves at eighteen is hardly the person one is going to be in love with at twenty-four.'

'I think she's old for her years.'

'She won't be a virgin, not these days.'

'I think she is, Mother. She has that untouched look.'

'That untouched look could simply mean, 'Don't touch me, George.''

'I should never have told you. I should have known you wouldn't approve.'

'Is she by any chance related to that young man who hanged himself?'

'That was her brother.'

'Oh, George!'

Bill Wong had romantic troubles as well. He had covered a burglary at a lingerie shop called Naughties in Mircester. A pretty sales assistant called Jade had taken his fancy. They had been out together a couple of times since the burglary.

Agatha had told Bill he could bring a girlfriend to her dinner and so he had invited Jade. He wondered uneasily what Agatha would make of her. She had dyed red hair of a violent colour and wore the minimum of clothes, even on cold days. She chewed bubble gum a lot. Her bubble gum was colour-coordinated to suit whatever she was wearing. If Jade was wearing purple, then she chewed purple bubble gum; if red, red bubble gum and so on. But she had large blue eyes and a perfect complexion and very long legs.

There'll be such a crowd, Agatha won't even notice her, Bill reassured himself. She'll be so taken up with James Lacey she won't, in fact, notice anyone else.

The next day, Agatha was returning to the office with Phil when she saw Alison on the other side of the street and hailed her. Alison crossed to meet her.

'I hear you've sold the place at last,' said Agatha. 'Congratulations.'

'May I talk to you?'

'Of course. We'll go for a coffee. I won't be long, Phil.'

Over coffee, Alison said, 'It's weird. We've all dreamed so long of the freedom that money would bring us, but we're all still huddled together at the manor, waiting there until the builders arrive and we'll be forced to leave. Jimmy sits surrounded by travel brochures but he never books anything. Bert drinks and smokes a lot and plays games on his computer. He barely talks to me.'

Alison's eyes were red-rimmed with recent crying.

'Any of you thought of therapy?'

'No, I hate that idea.'

'Why don't you go away yourself? You've got your own money. Go off, say, for a week, somewhere sunny.'

'I couldn't leave Bert.'

'If he's drinking and playing computer games all day long, then he's left you.'

'Maybe I'll try that.'

They'll never get rid of the dreadful Phyllis, thought Agatha, as she made her way up to her office. She put them all in an emotional prison and they don't even want to get out.

Three days before Agatha's Christmas dinner, Mrs Pyson heard the sound of a vehicle coming up the drive of her house. A young girl came into view driving a rental van.

Mrs Pyson went out to meet her.

The girl jumped down and held out her hand.

'I'm Toni Gilmour. I'm a friend of your son'

'And what can I do for you, Miss Gilmour?'

'George kindly gave me some pieces of furniture from your home. I don't need them now. I'm buying my own stuff.'

'Leave them in the van and come inside. I'll phone the village and get a couple of young men to put the stuff back in the attic.'

She certainly looks presentable enough, thought Mrs Pyson. Toni had let her long hair grow and it was now swept back in a French pleat. She was wearing corduroy trousers, a leather jacket, halfboots and a cashmere sweater she had found in a thrift shop.

'Would you like some tea?' asked Mrs Pyson after she had telephoned for help to move the furniture.

Toni looked trapped but she murmured, 'Yes, thank you. Can I help you?'

'No, I have help.' Mrs Pyson rang a bell on the table beside her. A tall girl with Slavic cheekbones came into the room.

'Tea,' said Mrs Pyson. 'And some of those biscuits, Svetlana, that I bought the other day at the church sale.'

When Svetlana had left, Mrs Pyson said, 'I never really approved of the European Union, but I must say, with the influx of immigrants from Eastern Europe one can get all the help one needs these days. I believe you are a detective. How did you meet my son?'

As Toni talked, Mrs Pyson studied her. Clear voice. Practically no accent at all. Such a pity she was so young.

The tea arrived. 'What do you plan to do with your life?' asked Mrs Pyson. 'I am sure all young girls want to get married.'

'I shall never marry,' said Toni.

'Nonsense. Why?'

'Careers last. Men don't.'

'So young and so cynical! So what do you plan to do?'

'It's difficult,' said Toni. 'Mrs Raisin gave me a break. She got me a flat, a car and she is paying me a good wage. And yet...'

'And yet?'

'I feel awfully grateful to her and to George'

'And it is weighing you down?'

Toni looked at her gratefully. 'You see, I've been thinking how nice it would be to be a real detective.'

'Aren't you one already?'

'Yes, but I mean join the police force. It's awful knocking on doors and asking questions when I don't really have any authority.'

'Is that why you are returning the furniture? Because you do not want to be grateful to my son?'

Toni coloured up. 'Something like that.'