Agatha Raisin and the Witch of Wyckhadden

Agatha experienced a feeling of relief as they drove away from the hotel. In bad weather, as on the day before, the hotel became oppressive, like being locked away in a time warp. Although the others were friendly enough, the women no longer asked her advice on clothes or make-up and the colonel no longer seemed interested in outings to the theatre or anywhere else. The days are passing, thought Agatha as Jimmy drove his Volvo Polo along the coast road. I wonder if James Lacey misses me.

"So you haven't heard from her?" James Lacey was saying after church to Mrs. Bloxby. "And yet there's been another murder. I thought she might have come home to have a look at her cats. Then I thought she might have phoned me to consult me about the murders."

"You haven't been exactly friendly with Mrs. Raisin," said Mrs. Bloxby. "Why don't you drive down and see her?"

"I might do that," said James. "Yes, I might just do that."

After three hours driving, he arrived at Wyckhadden and went straight to the Garden Hotel. He was told at the desk that Mrs. Raisin had gone out and they did not know when she was expected back. "Mrs. Raisin?" said a tall, elderly man who had been passing the desk.

"Yes, Colonel," said the manager. "This gentleman is asking for Mrs. Raisin."

"Gone out with her boyfriend," said the colonel. "That inspector."

James Lacey did not wait. There was no point. Agatha had always been a damned flirt.

"So that's the real story of why we didn't get married," Agatha was saying later over dinner. "It wasn't just because my husband turned up at the wedding. I really think James didn't care for me at all."

"I hate to say this, Agatha," said Jimmy, "but you're right. If he had really loved you, he would have married you when everything settled down."

They had talked all day with an easy companionship. Agatha was beginning to think more and more that marriage to Jimmy might be pleasant. There had to come a point in life to put away immature dreams of love and settle for friendship.

She only wished she could stop playing scenes over and over in her head where James would be shocked and jealous when he learned of her forthcoming marriage.

As Jimmy drove slowly back to Wyckhadden, Agatha said, "There's a fairground."

In a field beside the road ahead of them was the fairground, the lights sparkling against the night sky. They had passed it on their road out but it had been silent and deserted.

"Want to take a look around?" asked Jimmy. "It's probably crawling with Francie Juddle's relatives."

"I like fairgrounds," said Agatha.

"Then let's go." He drove off the road and into the carpark.

"Not many people."

"Wrong time of year, and there was a terrible weather forecast."

"I'm surprised it's open on a Sunday," said Agatha as they walked between the booths.

"They are always open. They stay closed until late in the afternoon on a Sunday, the idea being that everybody's had time to go to church. What do you want to try? It's one of those old-fashioned fairs. Not much in the way of exciting rides."

"There's a Ferris wheel," said Agatha, pointing upwards. "I'd like to try that."

"It's late. Some of the things are closing already. But we'll try."

The Ferris wheel was still operating. Jimmy paid for two tickets and they climbed into one of the seats. The man who had sold them the tickets fastened a safety bar across their chair.

"We're the only ones," said Agatha. "I wonder if he'll bother operating it. They sat for about five minutes with nothing happening. "Let's get off," Jimmy was just saying when, with a jerk, the Ferris wheel started up. The wheel sent them climbing higher. "The wind's getting strong," said Agatha, clutching Jimmy's arm.

Then, when their chair lurched and swung to the top, the wheel suddenly stopped dead.

"They often do this," said Jimmy, putting an arm around Agatha. "It'll start up in a minute."

A great gust of wind sent the chair rocking. Jimmy leaned over the edge. "What's happening?" he shouted, but the increasing wind tore his words away.

Agatha clung on to him. A blast of icy rain hit her cheek. Ahead of her she could see the lights of Wyckhadden and then, as if a hand had drawn a great veil over the town, it was swallowed up in the approaching storm.

The chair they were sitting on began to bucket and lurch. Down below, the lights of the fairground were beginning to go off one by one. Then the lights on the Ferris wheel went out, leaving them stranded in the increasing ferocity and blackness of the storm.

Jimmy held Agatha close and said, "I'm going to climb down. You stay here and hang on like grim death." He loosened the protective bar in front of them and lifted it.

"Don't leave me," shouted Agatha.

"I've got to get down." He shrugged off his coat and then kicked off his shoes.

He swung himself out of the chair and began to climb down the struts of the Ferris wheel. Agatha leaned over to try to watch him but the chair gave another huge lurch and she screamed and hung on with both hands.