Agatha Raisin and The Walkers of Dembley

An ugly light came into Jessica's eyes. 'You'd better watch your mouth, Jeffrey dear. I mean, don't you think MI5 might be interested in that couple of Irishmen you gave house room to two years ago?'

A wary look shone in his eyes. 'How do you know about that? You weren't here.'

'You got blind drunk after Alice's party and bragged about it. I mean, that would be around the time that IRA bomb went off in the High Street and killed a child.'

'It was nothing to do with them. They were just friends of friends who wanted a bed. They only stayed two nights.'

'Oh, but in your cups you mumbled away about striking a blow for the freedom of Ireland.' She threw her head back and laughed, an irritatingly stagy laugh.

He plunged across the bed and seized her by the throat. He was a powerful man. One brown eye which had a slight cast gave him a sinister look when he was angry. 'You dare to tell anyone about those Irishmen and I'll kill you. We're finished. Get your stuff and get out, by the morning.'

Jessica struck at his hands. Her eyes flashed. 'I'm not frightened of you.'

He sat back on the bed on his heels, a powerful naked figure.

'Oh, but you should be, Jessica. You should be.'

That was Monday evening.

'It's good of you to put me up,' said Jessica, looking around Deborah's small flat. 'I don't know what came over Jeffrey. But that's men for you.'

'Well, he has a point,' said Deborah. 'Why must you insist on going through with it?'

'Because Sir Charles stands for everything we are against. Privilege, unfair wealth, keeping people from enjoying the countryside. Oh, let's not argue.' She smiled slowly down into Deborah's eyes. 'Let's go to bed. I feel like an early night.'

'All right,' sighed Deborah. 'I'll make us some coffee first. Put your stuff in the bedroom.'

As Jessica walked through to the bedroom, the phone rang. Deborah picked up the receiver.

'Hello there,' came the voice of Sir Charles Fraith. 'Look, there's a showing of Citizen Kane at the Art Cinema tomorrow night. Feel like seeing it with me and having a bit of supper afterwards?'

'Love to,' said Deborah, clutching the phone hard and marvelling that there was someone still left on the planet who hadn't seen Citizen Kane.

'Give me your address and I'll pick you up.'

Deborah looked nervously towards the bedroom. 'No, I'll meet you there. What time?'

'Begins at seven thirty. Meet you outside at quarter past.'

'Yes, thank you.'

'See you then. Bye.'

Deborah walked into the bedroom, a mulish look on her normally weak face. 'I think I'll sleep on the sofa,' she said to Jessica. 'And I like my space. You can only stay here the one night.'

Jessica looked at her, feeling a hot burst of rage. What had happened to all her acolytes? 'Who was that on the phone?' she demanded.

'Just a friend,' said Deborah. 'I do have friends other than you, you know.'

'I'll bet it was Jeffrey'

Deborah remained silent, with the set stubbornness of the weak and frightened stamped on her face.

'So it was Jeffrey,' said Jessica. 'Well, before you get the hots for that oaf, just think what he would say if he knew you had sex with me that evening he was away at the teachers' conference in Birmingham.'

'You wouldn't,' shouted Deborah, not giving a damn what Jeffrey would think, but terrified that any such gossip would get around and might reach the ears of Sir Charles, her mind so distorted by fear that she did not pause to think it highly unlikely any part of her world would cross that of Sir Charles Fraith.

'Oh, I would, I would.'

'Get out in the morning!' screamed Deborah, beside herself with fear and hatred. 'I never want to see you again.'

That was Tuesday.

Happy and quite drunk, Kelvin Hamilton lay in bed and watched Jessica strip. He had hardly been able to believe his luck when she had arrived on his doorstep with her two suitcases, claiming to have always fancied him. Past insults were forgotten. He was not surprised that she did not wear a bra and had breasts that were quite magnificent. This, he thought, was going to be a night to remember. When she removed her jeans and he saw she was wearing men's Y-fronts, he felt a sudden sharp diminution of lust.

She climbed into bed and he proceeded to try to make love to her, but nothing happened. After he seemed to have been thrashing around on top of her for some time, Jessica said in a disgusted voice, 'Oh, for heaven's sake, Kelvin, give up. You've got distiller's droop. Go to sleep.'

The contempt in her voice sobered him. Soon she was gently snoring. He lay with the tears rolling down his cheeks. He thought he would die of sheer humiliation. He wanted her dead. He woke her up and began to shout.

That was Wednesday night.

Jessica was determined to find free lodgings. She called at the Copper Kettle, but Peter and Terry squeaked nervously like bats and backed away from her. 'Haven't an inch to spare, sweetie,' said Terry. 'Must rush. Lots of customers.' So Jessica went round to Alice Dewhurst's, to the flat she shared with Gemma Queen.

'I'm all for helping one of the sisterhood,' boomed Alice, 'but as you can see, we really haven't room for anyone else. Have you tried the Y?'

And so Jessica moved in with Mary Trapp, whom she secretly despised, and only found comfort in the fact that Mary slavishly adored her. Mary even said she would go with her on the walk across that field of Sir Charles Fraith's on Saturday.

But on the Friday, Mary complained of stomach pains. Then she disappeared to the bathroom, from which sickening retching noises could soon be heard.

'It's your own fault,' said Jessica unsympathetically. 'You will buy junk from the health shops and overeat, thinking it's all right because it comes from a health shop. Honestly, you are a pill.'

'Leave me alone,' said Mary.

'At least you should be fit enough to come with me tomorrow,' said Jessica.

Mary hunched a shoulder. 'I won't.'

So on Saturday, wearing a large pair of studded boots, a short denim skirt and sleeveless blouse, and with a militant gleam in her eye, Jessica Tartinck set out alone.

On the following Monday, Jeffrey approached Deborah in the staff-room. 'How's Jessica getting on?'

'I don't know,' said Deborah. 'I haven't seen her. I believe she moved in with Mary'

'I'm meeting the others for lunch in the Grapes,' said Jeffrey, meaning the ramblers. 'We'll ask her then.'

But when they were all settled over their beer and sandwiches in the Grapes, it was to learn from Mary that Jessica had set out on her walk across Sir Charles's estate and had not returned.

'He probably sent her off with a flea in her ear and she blames all of us,' commented Jeffrey. 'You know she likes to sulk.'

'She's a bitch,' said Kelvin moodily.

'That's not true!' Mary looked outraged. 'What's happened to all of you? You should be ashamed of yourselves.'

'Why didn't you go with her, Mary?' asked Alice.

'I was too ill,' said Mary. 'Food poisoning.'

'I'm a teensy bit worried.' Peter looked around the group with wide eyes. 'The poor thing came to the Copper Kettle looking for a bed from us. Did you throw her out, Jeffrey?'

'Yes,' he said curtly. 'What happened with you, Deborah? Didn't she try you?'

'I've got a small flat, as you know, and only one bed,' said Deborah. 'I could only give her one night's lodgings.'

'I said we should have put her up,' whispered Gemma.