Agatha Raisin and the Murderous Marriage

with a great hole in its back.
    Agatha looked at it in a dazed way. ‘What’s the hole for?’
    ‘Putting umbrellas in,’ said Bill triumphantly.
    Agatha’s first thought was that James would loathe it.
    ‘Well?’ she realized Bill was asking.
    Agatha remembered hearing once that Noel Coward had gone to see a quite dreadful play and when asked by the leading actor what he thought of it, had replied, ‘Dear boy, I am beyond words.’
    ‘You shouldn’t have done it, Bill,’ said Agatha with real feeling. ‘It looks very expensive.’
    ‘It’s an antique,’ said Bill proudly. ‘Victorian. Only the best for you.’
    Agatha’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. Bill had been the first friend she had ever had, a friendship formed shortly after she had moved to the country.
    ‘I’ll treasure it,’ she said firmly. ‘But let’s put it carefully away because the men will be coming tomorrow to remove all my stuff to storage.’
    ‘But you won’t want to pack this,’ said Bill. ‘Take it to your new home.’
    Agatha gave a weak smile. ‘How silly of me. I wasn’t thinking straight.’
    She poured Bill a cup of coffee.
    ‘All set for the big day?’ he asked.
    ‘All set.’
    His eyes were suddenly shrewd. ‘No doubts or fears?’
    She shook her head.
    ‘I never asked you – what did that husband of yours die of?’
    Agatha turned away and straightened a dish-towel. ‘Alcohol poisoning.’
    ‘Where is he buried?’
    ‘Bill, I did not have a happy marriage, it was a century ago and I would rather forget about it. Okay?’
    ‘Okay. There’s your bell.’
    Agatha answered the door to Mrs Bloxby. Bill rose to leave. ‘I’ve got to go, Agatha. I’m supposed to be on duty.’
    ‘Anything interesting?’
    ‘No juicy murders for you, Miss Marple. Nothing but a spate of burglaries. Bye, Mrs Bloxby. You’re to be Agatha’s bridesmaid?’
    ‘I have that honour,’ said Mrs Bloxby.
    When Bill had left, Agatha showed the vicar’s wife the elephant. ‘Oh dear,’ said Mrs Bloxby. ‘I haven’t seen one of those things in years.’
    ‘James is going to hate it,’ said Agatha gloomily.
    ‘James will just have to get used to it. Bill is a good friend. If I were you, I would grow some sort of green plant in it, you know, one of the ones with trailing branches and big leaves. It would hide most of it and Bill would be pleased you were putting it to such artistic use.’
    ‘Good idea,’ said Agatha, brightening.
    ‘And so you’re off to northern Cyprus for your honeymoon. Are you going to stay in a hotel? I remember Alf and I stayed in the Dome in Kyrenia.’
    ‘No, we’ve taken a villa. James used to be stationed out there and he wrote to his old fixer, a man who used to arrange everything for him, who sent him photographs of a lovely villa just outside Kyrenia and down a bit from the Nicosia road. It should be heaven.’
    ‘I actually came to help you pack,’ said the vicar’s wife.
    ‘There’s no need for that,’ said Agatha, ‘but thanks all the same. I hired one of those super-duper removal firms. They do everything.’
    ‘Then I won’t stay for coffee. I must call on Mrs Boggle. Her arthritis is bad.’
    ‘That old woman is a walking case for euthanasia,’ said Agatha waspishly. Mrs Bloxby turned mild eyes on her and Agatha flushed guiltily and said, ‘Even you must admit she’s a bit of an old pill.’
    Mrs Bloxby gave a little sigh. ‘Yes, she is a bit of a trial. Agatha, I don’t want to press you on the matter, but I am a little taken aback by the fact that you didn’t want to be married in our church.’
    ‘It all seemed too much fuss, a church wedding, and I’m not exactly religious, you know that.’
    ‘Oh, well, it would have been nice. Still, everyone is looking forward to the reception. We would all have helped, you know. There was no need for you to go to the expense of hiring a firm of caterers.’
    ‘I just don’t want any fuss, ’ said Agatha.
    ‘Never mind, it is your wedding. Did James ever say why he never married before?’
    ‘No, because I didn’t ask him.’
    ‘Just wondered. Do you need anything from the shop?’
    ‘No, thank you. I think I’ve got everything.’
    When Mrs Bloxby had left, Agatha debated whether to go back next door and prepare breakfast in a wifely way. But James always made breakfast himself. She adored him, she longed to be with him every minute of the day, yet she dreaded doing anything or saying anything that might