Agatha Raisin and the Witch of Wyckhadden

After dinner, the colonel suggested the usual game of Scrabble and they all gathered in the lounge just as all the lights went out.

"Power cut," said the colonel. "They'll be in with candles in a minute."

They sat in front of the fire. Agatha thought the light from the flames flickering on their faces made them look sinister.

Two elderly waiters came in carrying not candles but oil-lamps. Soon the room was bathed in a warm golden glow.

"Very flattering light. You like quite radiant tonight, Agatha," said the colonel. Daisy glared, little red points of light from the fire dancing in her eyes. "In fact," went on the colonel, "I have always found that one wedding leads to another. Who's next? You, Harry?"

"Who knows?" said Harry. "I may be lucky."

Daisy smiled at the colonel coquettishly. He quickly averted his eyes from hers and said, "Let's get started."

The newspapers were delivered in Carsely the following morning as usual, for the blizzard which was blanketing England on the south coast had not yet reached the Midlands.

James read his Times as usual but without reading the social column and then turned to the crossword. For some reason, Monday's crossword was usually easier than the rest of the week and to his disappointment he finished it in twenty minutes. Nothing left to do but get on with writing his military history. Then, like all writers, as he sat down at the word processor, his mind began to tell him he ought to do something else first. He was nearly out of coffee. Of course he had enough to last the day but with the blizzard coming, it wouldn't do any harm to get in supplies.

He drove to Tesco's at Stow-on-the Wold and found the car-park almost full. A wartime mentality had hit everyone because of the approaching storm. People were trundling laden trolleys past him to their cars.

Infected by the shopping mania, he bought not only coffee, but a lot of other stuff he had persuaded himself he needed. He was just pushing his shopping cart out to the parking area when he was stopped by Doris Simpson, Agatha's cleaner.

"Well, our Agatha's full of surprises," said Doris.

James smiled down at her tolerantly. "What's she got herself into now?"

"John Fletcher phoned me from the Red Lion just before I went out. It's in the Times."

"What is?"

"Why, our Agatha's engagement. Someone called Jessop she's going to marry. Mrs. Bloxby says he's a police inspector. Did you ever?"

"I knew that was in the cards," lied James.

"There you are. I hope she gets married in Carsely. I like a wedding. Not that she can wear white. Miss Perry over at Chipping Campden got married the other week. Now she's about our Agatha's age. She wore rose-pink silk. Very pretty. And the bridesmaids were all in gold."

"I must go," said James. "Snow's arrived."

"So it has," said Doris as a flake swirled down past her nose. "Must get on."

She can't do this, thought James. She's only doing it to get at me. I'll go down there and reason with her.

But by the time he got home, the flakes were falling thick and fast. He phoned the Automobile Association and found all the roads to the south were blocked.

Sir Charles Fraith was having a late breakfast with his elderly aunt. She put down the newspaper and said, "Don't you know someone called Raisin? Didn't she come here?"

"Agatha Raisin?"

"Yes, that's her. It's in the paper."

"What is?" asked Charles patiently. "She's engaged to be married to some fellow called Jessop," said his aunt.

"Fast worker, Aggie. I'll phone Bill Wong and see if he knows about it."

Charles got through to Detective Sergeant Bill Wong at Mircester police. "She's getting married!" exclaimed Bill. "Who to?"

"Fellow called Jessop."

"That'll be Inspector Jessop of the Wyckhadden police."

"I thought Aggie was eating her heart out for James Lacey."

"She must have got over it."

"She's probably doing it to annoy him. I know Aggie. I'll go down there and put a stop to it."

"You shouldn't, and anyway, you can't," said Bill. "The roads are blocked."

"I should stop the silly woman. I bet she doesn't give a rap for this inspector."

"She's over twenty-one."

"She's twice over twenty-one," said Charles nastily.

"Why don't you phone her? It said in the papers when they were writing about the murder that she was staying in the Garden Hotel."

"Right. I'll do that."

But the lines in Wyckhadden were down.

* * *

Agatha was never to forget the suffocating claustrophobic days that followed, inurned up in the hotel. No electricity. No phones. No television.

On the Wednesday morning, Agatha found Harry sitting alone in the lounge. "Not even a newspaper," he mourned. "I've never known it as bad as this. And no central heating. You would think a hotel as expensive as this would have a generator. I'm bored."

Agatha walked to the window. "It's stopped snowing," she said over her shoulder.

"Sky's still dark and more has been forecast," said Harry, rising and joining her.

"We could build a snowman," joked Agatha.