Agatha Raisin and The Potted Gardener Read Online Free PDF Page A

letting out moans. She hated Roy, she hated Carsely, she hated James Lacey, she hated the whole of the Carsely Ladies’ Society, she hated Mrs Bloxby…
    She was driving along the A40 as that last name in the catalogue came into her mind. She swerved off the road and parked outside a restaurant.
    “So what are we doing here?” demanded Roy, speaking for the first time since they had left the village.
    “I don’t know about you, but I am going to eat one great big hamburger smothered in ketchup,” said Agatha. “You can watch me or join me, I don’t care.”
    Roy followed her into the restaurant and then watched moodily as she ordered coffee and a ‘giant’ hamburger and ‘giant’ French fries. Then, in a tight, squeaky voice, he said to the waitress, “The same for me.”
    When the food arrived, they ate their way stolidly through it. Then. Agatha imperiously summoned the waitress. “Same again,” she said.
    “Same again,” said Roy, through a sudden fit of the giggles.
    “Sorry I was so bitchy,” said Agatha. “Can’t stand diets.”
    “That’s all right, Aggie,” said Roy. “Can be a bit of a bitch myself.”
    “And thank Wilson for his offer and tell him I’ll think about it. And” – Agatha leaned back and dabbed at her greasy mouth and gave a small burp – “tell him I would do it for you if I did it for anyone.”
    “Thanks, Aggie.”
    “Furthermore, I’ll run you all the way to London if you’ll join me in ordering a large amount of chocolate cake with chocolate sauce and ice cream.”
    “You’re on.”
    When they left the diner they were laughing and giggling as if they had been drinking instead of eating. They sang all the way to London and told jokes until Agatha dropped Roy outside his Chelsea flat.
    “Why not stay the night?” said Roy.
    “No, I’ve got my cats to feed. Must get home.”
    “Well, your spots have gone.”
    “So they have.” Agatha peered in the driving inirror. “Nothing’s better for the skin than a greasy hamburger.”
    She felt quite happy when she reached Carsely again. She would attend the Carsely Ladies’ Society meeting that evening at the vicarage. When she walked into the kitchen and saw bowls piled high with fruit, she gave a shudder. There would be sandwiches and fruit cake and perhaps one of Miss Simms’s chocolate cakes and she intended to eat as much as she could. Her figure could wait.
    It was only when she was seated in the vicarage and reaching out for the first ham sandwich that she realized she had felt no desire to stay in London. Her cleaner had the key to the cottage and would gladly have fed the cats if Agatha had decided to stay in town for the night. Changed days, thought Agatha, where tea and sandwiches at the vicarage took precedence over anything London had to offer.
    And then Mary Fortune walked into the room, borne forward on a cloud of French perfume. She was slim but curvaceous in tailored trousers, silk blouse and jacket. All green. She never seemed to wear any other colour.
    Agatha, her mouth full of sandwich, was dismally aware of the tightness of the skirt she was wearing. As she looked at Mary, she felt herself becoming fatter and fatter. Mary was carrying a cake she had baked and the women were exclaiming in delight. Caraway cake! How clever! Thought no one still remembered how to bake one. Mary beamed all round as she accepted their plaudits. She saw an empty seat next to Agatha and came and sat down next to her.
    “I’m glad you are joining the horticultural society,” said Mary with a charming smile.
    “I’ve ordered a greenhouse,” said Agatha. “Going to plant my own stuff this year.”
    “I’ll be glad to give you any cuttings you want,” said Mary.
    Reflecting that she wouldn’t have the faintest idea what to do with a cutting, Agatha mumbled thanks. Mary was obviously making a determined effort to please, and something in the new Agatha Raisin that was capable of reaching out to any offered