Agatha Raisin and the Witch of Wyckhadden

They finished their meal and went out into a white blizzard. "Damn," said Agatha, "I didn't notice any salt on the road as we came along."

"I'll drive if you like," said Jimmy.

"No, I'm a good driver," said Agatha, who was actually a fair-to-middling driver but always liked to be in the driving seat, metaphorically and physically.

Getting out of the village was a nightmare. Going up the steep cobbled street, the wheels spun and struggled for purchase on the icy surface. "Pull on the hand brake and change sides," said Jimmy. "I think I can manage."

Agatha reluctantly surrendered the wheel and then wondered sulkily how Jimmy managed to urge the little car up that icy street when she had failed. When they reached the main coast road, it was to find a gritter had recently been along, although the road in front was whitening fast despite the mixture of grit and salt.

"I hope we make it to Wyckhadden," said Jimmy, staring out into the blinding whiteness of the blizzard.

"I could drive now," said Agatha in a small voice.

"No, darling, better leave it to me."

Now wasn't that just what every woman should like to hear? No, darling, leave it to me? But Agatha felt useless and diminished. Only the thought of that announcement appearing in the Times cheered her up.

"We won't be going far tonight," said Jimmy, parking outside the hotel at last after a gruelling journey. "I've got to go home and make a few calls. I must tell my children about our engagement. I'll come back for you later."

"Can't I run you home?"

"No, it's safer to walk." Jimmy got out and locked the car and as she came round, handed her the keys. He bent and kissed her. "See you later," he said, and hunching his shoulders against the blizzard, he hurried off.

Agatha went into the reception. Daisy came shooting out of the lounge as if she'd been on watch.

"I want a few words with you," she began.

Agatha pulled off her glove and exhibited the engagement ring. "Congratulate me!"

Daisy went quite white and put a shaking hand onto the reception desk to support herself.

"Yes, Jimmy has just proposed," said Agatha brightly.

"Oh!" Colour began to appear in Daisy's cheeks. "You mean your inspector. I am so very happy for you, Agatha. I thought... never mind."

"What weather," said Agatha cheerfully. "Has it been like this before?"

"Sometimes. But it never lasts very long. Engaged! I must tell the colonel."

Daisy tripped off. Agatha went up to her room and showed the ring to Scrabble. Then, taking out her credit card, she phoned the Times and arranged for the announcement of her engagement to be placed in the newspaper on the following morning.

After she had replaced the receiver, the phone rang. She picked it up. It was Jimmy. "I'm afraid I've been called out, Agatha."

"Anything to do with the murders?"

"No, something else."

"How can they expect you to go out in weather like this?"

"They do. I'll call you when I'm through to say good night. You've made me a very happy man, Agatha. I love you."

"Love you too, Jimmy," lied Agatha. "Hear from you later."

She sat down suddenly on the bed and automatically stroked Scrabble's warm fur. "I'll need to go through with it," she said. "I want to go through with it," she added fiercely. "I don't want to spend my old age alone."

Then she decided to phone Mrs. Bloxby. She told the vicar's wife the news. There was a little silence and then Mrs. Bloxby said, "Do you love him? I mean, are you in love with him?"

"No, but I think that will come."

"And is he in love with you?"

"Yes, he is."

"It can be very suffocating and guilt-making to be married to someone who is deeply in love with you and then find yourself faced daily with a love you cannot return."

"I'm not a young thing anymore," said Agatha crossly. "Love is for the young."

Again that little silence and then Mrs. Bloxby's voice came down the line. "I am only saying this because I care for you. James will be upset, yes, but then it will pass and you will be married to a man you don't love. Never try to get even, Agatha. It doesn't ever work."

"Jimmy is a good man and I am very fond of him and I will be delighted to spend the rest of my life with him," said Agatha. "I haven't thought about James once since I met him."

"Will it be in the papers?"

"The Times tomorrow."

"I don't think James is the sort of man to read the social column."

But someone else in the village will, thought Agatha. And someone else will tell him.

She asked after her cats and about what was going on in the village and then rang off, feeling flat. "I did not get engaged to Jimmy just to get revenge on James Lacey," she told the cat fiercely. Scrabble gave her a long, studying look from its green eyes.

Agatha went down to dinner that evening to find that although it was freezing and snowing outside, the atmosphere inside had thawed towards her. Daisy had told them the news of her engagement and they all crowded around her table to admire the ring and congratulate her.