Roy sat down on the edge of the bed. "I tell you, Aggie, this village life is not for you. Much too dark and dangerous."
Agatha grinned. "I know what you are up to, Roy, and I know why you are being so helpful. I'm grateful to you for arranging all my bits and pieces, but I do not think I really want to go back to work again."
"I think you owe me something," said Roy. "Who got the detective in the first place?"
"You did. And for a very nasty reason'. 'I did it out of friendship," said Roy huffily. "You would have been lying dead in your own garden pushing up the daisies if it hadn't been for little old me. Come on, Aggie. Now that that total shit, Lacey, has cleared off the scene, you'll need something to take your mind off all this. What about just another six months?" Agatha had previously worked for six months at Pedmans.
Agatha frowned. It just might work. Every time she thought about James, she got a dull ache in her stomach. Hearts did not break, but it sometimes felt that guts could be torn apart.
"All right," she said. "But only a six-month stretch'. 'Aggie, you're a wonder. I'll just go off and phone Wilson."
When he had gone, Agatha opened the letter again, "Dear Agatha," she read, I know you are going to think me every kind of a rat, running off to Cyprus like this, but I did stay long enough to see that you were recovering. The fact is, I desperately need some time to myself, and I am afraid if I stay around to see you again, I might not leave, and I really do not honestly think I am ready for marriage yet. Please forgive me. I think I love you as much as it is possible for me to love anyone. Do remember that.
Yours, James.
Agatha put the letter down and stared into space. Hope flared up again in her damaged soul. She read that one bit over and over again. "I think I love you as much as it is possible for me to love anyone."
She rang the bell beside the bed.
"Am I getting out of here tomorrow?"
"Yes, Mrs. Raisin," said the nurse.
"Well, be an angel and get me the necessary signing-off forms because I'm leaving today."
"If you think that's wise..."
"Oh, very, very wise."
"Very well."
As she left, Roy Silver came in. "Wilson's delighted, Agatha. Start in a month's time?"
"Sure, sure," said Agatha, and he looked at her suspiciously. "Don't glare at me, Roy. I'm here until tomorrow anyway. Aren't you expected back in London?"
"Yes, but don't run away."
"I'm here in a hospital bed, aren't I?"
Roy left and walked slowly down the corridor. As he passed a nurse who was talking to a doctor, he heard her say, "That Mrs. Raisin in room five wants to check out today. She's not due to leave until tomorrow. I don't suppose a day matters."
They walked off. Roy stood stock-still. Then he turned back and stopped again. If Agatha had changed her mind, she might not tell him. He would wait until she left and see that she went straight home.
He waited an hour in the car-park until he saw Mrs. Bloxby, that vicar's wife, arrive. After another half hour's wait, Agatha emerged with Mrs. Bloxby and got into her car. Roy got into his own car and followed. Instead of going to Carsely, they went straight to Moreton-in-Marsh and stopped outside a travel agent's. Again Roy waited until they emerged. Then he breezed into the travel agent's and said blithely, "I just saw my friend Mrs. Raisin. Off to foreign parts."
"Yes," said the travel agent brightly. "Off to northern Cyprus."
"When?"
"Tomorrow. Now how can I help you, sir?"
"The old, sly, double-dealing bitch," screamed Roy, thinking of his lost bonus and lost triumph.
"I beg your pardon, sir?" The travel agent, a smart brunette, looked at him, appalled.
"And stuff you too," yelled Roy. "God, I hate women!"