Agatha Raisin and the Fairies of Fryham

and Polly’s husbands, too?’
    ‘Yes.’ Amy gave a dismal sniff and poked at her lasagne.
    ‘And all they do is go to look at the fair Mrs Wilden?’
    Amy nodded.
    ‘And does she encourage them?’
    ‘I don’t think Rosie Wilden has to do anything special. She just is.’
    ‘So why don’t you and Harriet and Polly go to the pub?’
    ‘We couldn’t do that!’
    ‘Why?’ asked Agatha patiently.
    ‘It’s an old-fashioned village. They don’t mind women in the pub at lunch-time, but they’re frowned on in the evening.’
    ‘I’ve never heard anything more ridiculous. I’ll phone Polly and Harriet. We’ll all go.’
    ‘The husbands will be furious.’
    ‘Time they were.’
    Agatha went through to the phone, which was on a small table in the hall. She called through to Amy, ‘What are their phone numbers?’
    Amy gave the numbers but then started to protest. Agatha ignored her. She phoned Harriet first and said curtly that Amy was crying her eyes out, so she was taking her to the pub, and did Harriet want to come and bring Polly.
    There was a silence and then Harriet said harshly, ‘Do you know what you are doing?’
    ‘Well, yes. I don’t see why you should all be stuck at home while your husbands are in the pub. Into battle, Harriet.’
    ‘All right,’ said Harriet. ‘I’ll do it. Damn it. I’ll do it.’
    ‘See you both there in half an hour.’ Agatha rang off and returned to the kitchen.
    ‘Right, Amy,’ she said. ‘Upstairs with me. I’m going to make your face up.’
    ‘But I never wear make-up. Jerry doesn’t like me wearing make-up.’
    ‘I think your trouble is you always do what Jerry wants. Upstairs.’
    Agatha deftly worked on Polly’s face – foundation cream, powder, blusher, mascara, eyeshadow and lipstick. ‘There!’ she said at last. ‘You look more like a human being.’
    She jerked open her wardrobe door and took out a black dress. ‘Pop this on. What size of shoes do you wear?’
    ‘Fives. But –’
    ‘You need heels. Nothing like heels to give you confidence. Get a move on.’
    Amy, used to bending to any will stronger than her own, meekly put on the little black dress and a pair of high-heeled shoes. Agatha put some gold jewellery round her neck. ‘Now, straighten your shoulders. Right. Great. Forward march!’
    Harriet and Polly were waiting outside the pub. ‘You look glamorous, Amy,’ said Harriet. This was a wild exaggeration, but had the effect of making Amy smile with delight.
    ‘Here we go,’ said Agatha Raisin and pushed open the door.
    Behind the bar, in the low, smoky room full of men, Rosie Wilden glowed like a jewel. She was wearing a soft white chiffon blouse with a plunging neckline.
    Agatha found a table in a corner for her new friends. Silence had fallen at their entrance and the silence continued as Agatha walked to the bar and said to Rosie Wilden, ‘Have you any champagne?’
    ‘I do indeed, Mrs Raisin.’
    ‘Two bottles,’ ordered Agatha. ‘That’s for starters.’
    ‘Big occasion?’
    ‘Yes, my birthday,’ lied Agatha.
    She returned through the still silent men to the table. ‘Our husbands are glaring at us,’ whispered Amy. ‘That’s the three of them, over at the bar.’
    ‘Good,’ said Agatha. ‘Now when the champagne arrives, I want you all to sing “Happy Birthday to You”.’
    ‘Is it your birthday?’ asked Polly.
    ‘No, but they don’t know that and you don’t want to look as if you’ve come in to check on them.’
    Rosie Wilden came round the bar with a tray of glasses. Then she turned and shouted, ‘Barry, could you be a love and bring the bottles and ice bucket over here?’
    Agatha’s gardener came up with the bottles and ice bucket. He was not overwhelmingly handsome, but, decided Agatha, he was the best-looking man in the pub. ‘Barry,’ cried Agatha. ‘Do join us. It’s my birthday.’
    Barry grinned and shuffled his feet. ‘I’m with me two mates.’
    ‘Bring them over. We’d better have two more bottles, Mrs Wilden.’
    Barry returned with his two friends and they crammed in round the table. Rosie deftly opened the first bottle. To Agatha’s delight, Barry, unprompted, began to sing ‘Happy Birthday to You’ in a strong baritone. He was joined by his friends, and then Harriet, Polly and Amy joined in.
    ‘You have a lovely voice, Barry,’ said Agatha. ‘Know anything else?’
    Barry, who had been already well oiled before he started on the champagne, got to his feet and