of carefully reversing into it before Agatha beat her to it by driving straight in nose first, stared in hurt anger. When they got out of the car, Agatha, keeping her face averted, said, ‘Got to go to the chemist’s over there. Meet you in that pub, the George, in a few moments.’ And then, like jesting Pilate, did not stay for an answer, but scuttled across the square.
In the chemist’s, she bought a stick of Blemish Remover, astringent lotion, and, for good measure, a new lipstick, Hot Pink.
James looked up and waved as Agatha came into the pub, but she scuttled past him to the Ladies’, her face still averted.
Agatha cleaned her face, applied the astringent lotion and then wiped it off with a tissue. She peered at her nose. There was a bright little red spot at the end of it. She carefully applied the stick of Blemish Remover, which resulted in a beige blotch on the end of her nose. She covered it with powder. The light in the Ladies’ was not working, so she could only guess at the effect. She stared upwards. There was a light socket up on the ceiling, but she noticed the light bulb was missing and what light there was in the room filtered through the grimy panes of a window high up over the hand basin. Then she remembered she had bought a packet of 100-watt light bulbs the day before and had left them in her car. She scuttled out again. Again James waved and again she ran past him, her face averted, and out the door. He drank his beer thoughtfully. He had once thought Agatha Raisin deranged. Perhaps he had been right. There she came again, running sideways, and back into the Ladies’.
Agatha looked up at the ceiling. In order to reach the light socket, she would need to stand on the hand basin. She hitched up her skirt and climbed into the large Victorian hand basin and gingerly stood up. She reached up to the light socket.
With a great rending sound, the hand basin came away from the wall. Agatha swayed wildly and then grabbed hold of a dusty windowsill as the hand basin slowly continued to detach itself and fell with an almighty crash on the floor, taking the brass taps with it. A ferocious jet of cold water from a now broken and exposed pipe shot straight up Agatha’s skirt.
With a whimper she let go of the windowsill, jumped to the flooding floor and skirting the debris shot back into the pub after firmly closing the door behind her.
‘Let’s go,’ she said to James.
He stared at her in surprise. ‘I’ve just bought you a gin and tonic.’
‘Oh, thanks,’ said Agatha desperately. ‘Cheers!’ She threw the drink down her throat in one gulp. ‘Come on!’ Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a flood of water appearing from under the door of the Ladies’.
James followed her out. He noticed to his dismay that the back of her skirt had a dark stain on it and he wondered whether to tell her. She was not that old, but perhaps she had bladder trouble.
‘Now, this pub looks much nicer,’ said Agatha, pushing open the door of the Potters Arms and diving in. Once more, she went to the Ladies’. To her relief it was a modern place with a hot-air hand dryer. She took off her skirt and held it under the dryer until the water stain began to fade. Then she lay down on the floor and held her wet feet up under it. Time passed. When she emerged, a worried James was on his second pint of beer. ‘I was just about to send someone to look for you,’ he said. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes,’ said Agatha, radiant again, for she had discovered that the new make-up had done the job effectively and she was once more warm and dry.
‘I bought you another gin,’ he said, indicating the glass on the table.
Agatha smiled at him. ‘Here’s to detection,’ she said, raising her glass. And then she slowly lowered it, a look of ludicrous dismay on her face. For into the pub had just marched Bill Wong and a tall policewoman. ‘Dropped my handbag,’ said Agatha and dived under the table.
It was to no
In the chemist’s, she bought a stick of Blemish Remover, astringent lotion, and, for good measure, a new lipstick, Hot Pink.
James looked up and waved as Agatha came into the pub, but she scuttled past him to the Ladies’, her face still averted.
Agatha cleaned her face, applied the astringent lotion and then wiped it off with a tissue. She peered at her nose. There was a bright little red spot at the end of it. She carefully applied the stick of Blemish Remover, which resulted in a beige blotch on the end of her nose. She covered it with powder. The light in the Ladies’ was not working, so she could only guess at the effect. She stared upwards. There was a light socket up on the ceiling, but she noticed the light bulb was missing and what light there was in the room filtered through the grimy panes of a window high up over the hand basin. Then she remembered she had bought a packet of 100-watt light bulbs the day before and had left them in her car. She scuttled out again. Again James waved and again she ran past him, her face averted, and out the door. He drank his beer thoughtfully. He had once thought Agatha Raisin deranged. Perhaps he had been right. There she came again, running sideways, and back into the Ladies’.
Agatha looked up at the ceiling. In order to reach the light socket, she would need to stand on the hand basin. She hitched up her skirt and climbed into the large Victorian hand basin and gingerly stood up. She reached up to the light socket.
With a great rending sound, the hand basin came away from the wall. Agatha swayed wildly and then grabbed hold of a dusty windowsill as the hand basin slowly continued to detach itself and fell with an almighty crash on the floor, taking the brass taps with it. A ferocious jet of cold water from a now broken and exposed pipe shot straight up Agatha’s skirt.
With a whimper she let go of the windowsill, jumped to the flooding floor and skirting the debris shot back into the pub after firmly closing the door behind her.
‘Let’s go,’ she said to James.
He stared at her in surprise. ‘I’ve just bought you a gin and tonic.’
‘Oh, thanks,’ said Agatha desperately. ‘Cheers!’ She threw the drink down her throat in one gulp. ‘Come on!’ Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a flood of water appearing from under the door of the Ladies’.
James followed her out. He noticed to his dismay that the back of her skirt had a dark stain on it and he wondered whether to tell her. She was not that old, but perhaps she had bladder trouble.
‘Now, this pub looks much nicer,’ said Agatha, pushing open the door of the Potters Arms and diving in. Once more, she went to the Ladies’. To her relief it was a modern place with a hot-air hand dryer. She took off her skirt and held it under the dryer until the water stain began to fade. Then she lay down on the floor and held her wet feet up under it. Time passed. When she emerged, a worried James was on his second pint of beer. ‘I was just about to send someone to look for you,’ he said. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes,’ said Agatha, radiant again, for she had discovered that the new make-up had done the job effectively and she was once more warm and dry.
‘I bought you another gin,’ he said, indicating the glass on the table.
Agatha smiled at him. ‘Here’s to detection,’ she said, raising her glass. And then she slowly lowered it, a look of ludicrous dismay on her face. For into the pub had just marched Bill Wong and a tall policewoman. ‘Dropped my handbag,’ said Agatha and dived under the table.
It was to no
Similar Books
