Agatha Raisin: Hiss and Hers (25 page)

‘But this is a real date! The theatre! I mean, it's only been foreign stuff before and meals – but he is taking me out!'

Mrs Bloxby felt her heart sink. If Agatha fell in love with Charles, it would be a disaster. She would expect nothing less than marriage and that would mean a lifestyle as lady of the manor that Mrs Bloxby felt sure Agatha would find crippling.

‘Perhaps he won the tickets in a raffle and no one else was available to go with him,' said the vicar's wife.

‘What a catty thing to say,' said Agatha huffily. ‘I'm off!'

But deep down, Agatha felt, as she dressed for the evening, that there had been something that might just be true in Mrs Bloxby's comment.

Charles arrived, casually dressed in jacket and trousers and open-necked shirt. Agatha was in the full glory of a little black dress, a ruby necklace and scarlet high heels.

‘You're very grand,' said Charles. ‘Won't you feel cold?'

‘I've got a stole,' said Agatha. ‘Should I change?'

‘No, you're fine. It's just that people don't dress up anymore.'

Charles parked the car in Stratford-Upon-Avon and they approached the new theatre on foot. ‘Is that it?' exclaimed Agatha. ‘It looks like a fire tower, and all that red brick!'

They walked into the stalls bar, a bleak place in grey and black. It did not look like a theatre bar, but like part of some warehouse that had been hurriedly transformed for the evening.

‘At least I know the play,' said Agatha.

‘Well, let's hope they're faithful to it,' said Charles. ‘How are you anyway? Got over all the frights?'

‘I still get a few nightmares,' said Agatha. ‘In fact,' she said, casting him a sideways look out of her bearlike eyes, ‘I've sometimes thought of chucking the whole thing in and settling down.'

‘Settling down as what?' asked Charles.

As your wife, would have been the honest reply. ‘Oh, I don't know,' said Agatha warily. ‘My shares are doing well, despite the recession. I may give up work. I'm quite domesticated, really.'

‘If nuking every meal in the microwave is your idea of domesticity – sure.'

The bell for the start of the performance rang and they went into two good seats in the stalls.

There were several shocks for Agatha. The actor playing Macbeth was small and balding. Banquo, on the other hand, was a tall, powerful black man with dreadlocks. There were no witches. The witches had been cancelled and replaced with three child actors with piping voices. Sometimes it was hard to hear the actors because of it being a theatre in the round. Instead of talking out to the audience as they would have done in a more conventional theatre, the actors spoke to one another, often with their backs to where Agatha and Charles were seated. The interval came as a relief.

Or that was until Charles introduced Agatha to two friends of his, Barry and Mary Tring.

‘Enjoying it?' boomed Barry, a tall man with a florid face.

‘Not much,' said Charles.

‘You should have seen
The Merchant of Venice
,' said Barry. ‘Set in Las Vegas and opened with an Elvis Presley impersonator, singing “Viva Las Vegas”.'

‘Well, it's never about Shakespeare,' said Charles, ‘but all about the producer. I'm sorry for the American tourists. They like their Shakespeare straight.'

‘Just be glad you won those tickets at the cricket club do,' said Barry.

Agatha suddenly wanted to go home. But the bell was ringing, and back they went to endure the rest of the play. At one point the stage seemed to be messy with small children. The ghosts of Macduff's children scurried about with the three elves who had replaced the witches.

At last it was over. Some brave man behind Agatha shouted, ‘Boo!' very loudly, but everyone else clapped politely.

On the road home, Charles kept up a polite chatter about the play.

Outside Agatha's cottage, she surprised him by getting out of the car and saying briefly, ‘See you.' No invitation to come in for a drink.

Agatha slammed the door and stormed into her kitchen. He hadn't even suggested taking her for dinner. She kicked off her shoes and put a curry in the microwave.

‘I'm a silly old slut,' she said to her cats. ‘Men! I've given them up.'

But after she had eaten and had downed two large glasses of wine, she began to relax.

The world was full of men. Out there, surely, was some man who would cherish her.

Until then, there were cases to solve.

Damn Charles!