Death of a Hussy Read Online Free PDF Page B

to her cheek in a helpless motion and she turned the colour of mud. She gasped for breath and swayed and the colonel shouted with alarm and rushed to support her.
    Dr Brodie, the village doctor, came bustling up. ‘Pills,’ croaked Maggie. ‘Handbag.’
    The doctor called for a glass of water while he rummaged in Maggie’s handbag, stopping for an instant to look in dazed surprise at a packet of condoms before he found the pills.
    Maggie gulped down the pills and slowly her colour began to return. ‘I’d better phone for the ambulance,’ said Dr Brodie.
    ‘No,’ said Maggie weakly. ‘I had a bit of a shock. I thought I saw someone I knew. I’ll be all right. Hate hospitals. Get me home.’
    The competent Mrs Todd drove Maggie and Alison home. Maggie went straight to bed, but did not go to sleep. She lay awake a long time. She quickly forgot that insight into her soul and remembered only her physical appearance. She who had once been famous for her beauty had degenerated into a fat frump. And all because of one faithless greasy waiter. She must have been mad. She remembered looking across at Priscilla as the doctor had helped her from the room. Priscilla, tall and blonde and groomed, seemed to Maggie to be everything that she herself had lost.
    She struck the bedclothes with her fat fist. ‘I’m not finished yet,’ she said aloud. ‘Look at Joan Collins!’
    The little spark that the colonel’s kiss had kindled grew into a flame of ambition. She lay awake long into the night, making plans.
       
    Hamish walked slowly along the waterfront with Priscilla in the direction of the police station with Towser plodding along behind. The party was over. He was deeply grateful for his welcome and yet glad he no longer had to endure any of it. He did not like being the focus of attention and shrewdly judged all the celebration of his return would be followed by a backlash, the village wondering why they had gone to such lengths to get diffident and lazy Hamish back again.
    He opened the kitchen door to the police station. ‘You’d better take a look at your living room,’ said Priscilla’s voice behind him. He pushed open the door of the living room and blinked at the array of flower arrangements. ‘It’s like a funeral,’ he said, closing the door quickly. ‘I’ll make us some coffee.’
    ‘It was Mrs Bisset and Mrs Wellington. You know they do the flowers for the church,’ said Priscilla, sitting down on a kitchen chair. She took off her coat and eased it on to the back of the chair. ‘Who on earth did Maggie Baird see at that party to give her such a shock?’
    Hamish shook his head. ‘She was looking in the mirror. Whoever it was certainly gave her a bad fright. Where does she come from?’
    ‘London, I believe. We had her and that niece over for dinner. Odd woman. Quite spiteful to the niece and quite repulsive looking, but Daddy was taken with her. I gather you guessed that the sudden outburst of crime in Lochdubh was to lure you back.’
    ‘I wisnae quite sure,’ said Hamish with a slow smile, ‘until I saw the welcome I got. I was so low in spirits in Strathbane, I thought you had all forgotten about me.’ He put two cups and saucers on the table. ‘Still unmarried?’ he asked casually.
    ‘Yes, still unmarried. Still training in computers. Going to be a programmer. Think I’ll make a good yuppie?’
    ‘You look what everyone believes a female yuppie to look like,’ said Hamish.
    ‘With all the yuppie-bashing around, I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not.’
    ‘It’s a compliment. You look awfy pretty – as usual.’
    The last was said in a matter-of-fact way. Hamish, thought Priscilla, was no longer shy in her company.
       
    The following morning, before Maggie awoke, Alison went out to the garage and looked longingly at the little red Renault. In the post that morning, she had received a notification that her driving test was to be held in three weeks’ time in Lochdubh.