'That and other things. You see, George, my husband, was much older than me, but oodles of money. We used to travel a lot, go to exotic places. But George kept a strict eye on me and 235.

I used to think of all the freedom I'd have if he dropped dead and left me the money.

'Well, he did. I had a couple of unfortunate affairs, and so I thought to h.e.l.l with it; I'll move to the Cotswolds, get myself a d.i.n.ky cottage and look around for another husband. I got my eye on Lacey. Sorry I was such a b.i.t.c.h, but I really fancied him, but not a hope there. That business with Bladen threw me. I really believed he was head over heels in love with me. I really believed all that rubbish about that hospital. When George was alive, I thought I was the clever, worldly, shrewd one, but it was George who had the brains. Then Tony came along. That chap you saw me with in the pub. No Adonis, but good business, Gloucester way. His wife called on me yesterday. His wife! And he swore he was a widower/ Freda snivelled dismally. 'I'm just a stupid old tart/ 'You need another big gin/ said Agatha, ever practical.

James Lacey read over again what he had written and groaned. Thanks to his experiences in the Bladen case, he had thought he would write a mystery story. How easily the words had come. How rapidly the thousands of little green words had built up on the screen of his computer. But it was as if a mist had cleared. He was looking down at pages of total rubbish.

236.

The windows of his cottage were all open because it was a hot day. From next door, he could hear the sound of voices and the clink of gla.s.ses and china. He went out into his garden and peered over the hedge. Bill Wong and Agatha were sitting having lunch and absorbed in conversation. He wished he could go and join them, but he had been cool to Agatha, had snubbed her, and now he had cut himself off.

He returned to the house and pottered about miserably. Later he heard Bill leave and shortly after that, he saw Agatha driving off.

He went back out into his garden in the afternoon and began to weed the flower-beds. He heard movement from Agatha's garden and once more looked over. She was planting a row of pansies. He was sure she didn't know anything about gardening. If he hadn't been so stupid, he could have strolled over for a chat. But really! All those women expecting him to propose! And Agatha herself, the way she had looked at him.

But on the other hand, she had nearly been killed. He had misread her looks before. It was all the fault of that b.l.o.o.d.y captain's wife in Cyprus. He should never have had an affair with her. What a scandal that had been. She had pursued him, flirted with him, but when the scandal had broken, he was the guilty party, the beast that had seduced her and tried to take her away from her n.o.ble and gallant husband.

237.

He settled down to read a detective story by Reginald Hill and found it depressingly good.

In the evening, he heard the sound of noisy singing coming along the lane.

Puzzled, he went out and stood in the evening air on his doorstep.

Lurching along the lane, arms about each other, singing, 'I Did It My Way', came Agatha and Freda Huntingdon.

When they came abreast of him, they stopped singing. Freda hiccuped and said, "Men!' and Agatha Raisin grinned and gave James Lacey the victory sign, but the wrong way round.

James retreated inside and banged the door as, laughing and shouting, the unlikely pair went on their way.

238.

end.