THREE months later, Agatha Raisin stood behind the tombola stand at a fund-raising venture for Save the Children. It was a worthy cause and she had worked hard on the organizing committee to make the fair a success. She felt her eyes should now look out on the world with the same quiet glow of serenity in them that she saw in Mrs. Bloxby's eyes. She took out her compact and looked in the little mirror. A pair of bearlike eyes stared bleakly back at her.
James had gone to Greece and Agatha had to admit to herself that she was bored. 'I bought three tickets and all I got was a tin of sardines,' grumbled old Mrs. Boggle.
'With tickets at twenty pee each, you got a bargain,' snapped Agatha.
'I know what it is,' said Mrs. Boggle, 'you're keeping all the best prizes for yourself.' Agatha ignored her and sold more tickets. To her delight and under the envious eyes of Mrs. Boggle, the next two people won, respectively, a bottle of whisky and a hamper of selected cheeses. Mr. Boggle bought another ticket. She won a bottle of shampoo. 'There you are,' said Agatha brightly. 'You can't complain about that.' But of course Mrs. Boggle did, saying she had wanted the whisky. The day wore on. The jingly-jangly music of the morris dances began to get on Agatha's nerves.
She was restless and wanted some excitement. She had phoned Charles, but he had cheerfully said he was busy and Agatha knew that 'busy' with Charles meant he was in pursuit of some female.
On this sunny day, with bunting fluttering in the lightest of breezes, her thoughts turned again to Jimmy. Her cottage at night no longer seemed a sanctuary, a refuge, but lonely and boring, with only the television for company. Mrs. Bloxby had tried to help the 'new' Agatha to sainthood by suggesting that their next move would be to help out at a charity fete in Long-borough.
If I had married Jimmy, thought Agatha wistfully, I would be part of a pair, I would be Mrs. Jessop. The police had returned the love potion and hair restorer. Agatha had sent them both to a lab in Birmingham for analysis. The love potion turned out to be aniseed-flavoured water and the hair restorer was a bottle of commercial stuff, available on the market for twenty-five pounds. All Francie had done was remove the label. But it meant that no magic had made Jimmy fall for her. He was not like James Lacey, bad-tempered and chilly, or Charles, fickle and amoral. He was a decent man and he had loved her and he had given her his ring.
Wyckhadden had been all right, thought Agatha, automatically selling tickets and smiling and handing out prizes. It was only the murders and the dreadful weather which had made it seem so awful.
And then she began to wonder if she could get Jimmy back. She could explain about Charles, explain that she had been upset and had drunk too much. He would give her that warm smile of his and she would feel secure. She began to forget that stab of relief she had experienced when she had known that the engagement was over.
Why not go back to Wyckhadden and just see if she could talk to him?
The idea of taking action, some action, any action began to get a grip of Agatha.
She began to feel happy in a way that no amount of good works had managed to make her feel.
At the end of the day, she began to help clear up. Mrs. Bloxby, looking with some surprise at Agatha's happy face, thought that perhaps Agatha really was meant for good works.
That was until Agatha told her she planned to go back to Wyckhadden and see Jimmy. Mrs. Bloxby was about to protest that Agatha would probably only meet with rejection, Mrs. Bloxby being more used to the Jimmy Jessops of this world--that is, ordinary decent people--than Agatha, but decided against it. Perhaps Jimmy might turn out to be the man for Agatha after all. She had only Agatha's word for it that he was an ordinary decent man. And the world was full of women who had married for companionship and security, so why not Agatha? So she fought down the voice of her conscience that was telling her that Agatha Raisin would be miserable with less, and wished her luck.
Agatha did not immediately dash off. She went to the beautician's and had a facial and her eyebrows shaped. Then the hairdresser's, then into a new boutique beside the hairdresser's in Evesham to choose something new. She hesitated between selecting something pretty and feminine or something sharp and businesslike. At last she bought a biscuit-coloured linen suit and a soft, pale yellow silk blouse to go with it. Then she drove back to Carsely and called round to see her cleaner, Doris Simpson, to tell her that she was going away again, but just for a few days, and that there was now an extra cat to feed.
Feeling more and more confident, she had a good night's sleep and set out on the long road to Wyckhadden early the following morning.
As she drove into Wyckhadden past neat little villas and bungalows on the outskirts, she looked at them with new eyes. She could live a life in one of those, mowing the lawn and polishing the car.
She drove straight to the Garden Hotel. The weather was warm on the beach and the kiosks in the pier were open. The sea, which had looked so threatening in the winter, was tamed into calm deep blue. A ship puffed along the line of the horizon, looking like a child's toy.
In the hotel, there was now a glamorous receptionist behind the desk and guests were coming and going.
The receptionist smiled and said Agatha was lucky. They had received a cancellation that morning. There was a smart young foreign porter in new hotel livery to carry her bag up to her room. The old hotel had an air of life and prosperity. Agatha wondered whether Harry, Jennifer and Mary were still in residence or if the big influx of new guests had driven them away. But then, they had said they were used to visitors.
Agatha picked up the phone and got through to the police station. 'Wyckhadden police' came the voice of the desk sergeant. 'I would like to speak to Inspector Jessop,' said Agatha.
'Yes. May I ask who's calling?'
'Agatha Raisin.'
'He's out on a case,' said the desk sergeant sharply.
'When is he due back?'
'We don't know. Not for a long time.'
'I am staying at the Garden Hotel. Would you ask him to phone me?'
'If I see him,' said the desk sergeant ungraciously and replaced the receiver.
She changed into the new linen suit and blouse and walked down to the hall. She asked for Mr. Martin.
Mr. Martin came out of his office and looked at her like the Ancient Mariner spotting the albatross. 'Oh, dear ... I mean, how nice to see you again.'
'I wondered if Miss Stobbs, Miss Dulsey and Mr. Berry were still in residence.'
'Yes, they are.' He looked at the line of keys behind the desk. 'They all appear to be out at the moment. Er, will you be staying long?'
'A couple of days,' said Agatha.
Agatha went out into the sunshine and walked along the pier. She wished she had brought her coat, for although the sun was warm, the sea breeze was somewhat chilly. She then saw that among the souvenir kiosks, there was a new booth: MADAM MYSTIC, FORTUNE-TELLER.
May as well pass the time until I figure out what to do, thought Agatha.
Madam Mystic was dressed in a long black robe and wore a turban on her head.
'Sit down,' she said. 'Your fortune will cost you ten pounds.'
'Right.'
'Money now.'
Agatha paid over a ten-pound note.
'Let me see your hands,' said Madam Mystic.
Agatha held out her hands. 'You are a healthy, determined woman with a lot of success and money in her life, but not love.'
'And will I get any?' asked Agatha, wondering, why did I come to this charlatan?
'Perhaps, but you must go to look for it. You live in a small place where nothing happens.'
That's what you think, thought Agatha.
'The love of your life is in Norfolk. He is tall with fair hair. He is a widower. You must go in search of him.'
'Norfolk's a big county. Where? North, south, east or west?'
