Agatha Raisin and the Fairies of Fryham

foundation. Powder, lipstick, but no eye shadow – too early in the day. She brushed her thick brown hair until it shone and then returned downstairs, where Charles was sitting on the kitchen floor, playing with the cats.
    ‘You might have phoned first,’ said Agatha.
    ‘Came on impulse.’ Charles jumped lightly to his feet and dusted himself down. He was such a clean man, thought Agatha. His shirt was immaculate, his trousers pressed, his shoes gleaming. Even naked, he never looked vulnerable but as if he were wearing a neat white suit.
    ‘How long are you staying?’
    ‘Depends,’ said Charles, stifling a yawn. ‘What goes on in this burg?’
    ‘Lots,’ said Agatha. ‘Take your case up to the spare room. That’s the one with the single bed.’
    ‘Okay.’
    Charles disappeared. I should have told him I was only going to stay another week, thought Agatha. Oh, well, a week of Charles will be enough. And I am not going to bed with him, ever again. But it certainly looks as if things in Fryfam are getting very interesting indeed.
    When Charles came down again, he found Agatha looking at ready meals from the freezer. ‘Back to the microwave, eh?’ said Charles. ‘Last time I saw you, you had gone in for real food.’
    ‘This is real food,’ snapped Agatha. ‘Just because I don’t cook it doesn’t mean it isn’t real. I bet you most of the stuff you get in those restaurants you go to is ready-made and supplied by some catering firm. I know a restaurant in Moreton-in-Marsh that’s pulled in all sorts of awards and yet someone who worked there told me that everything from duck à l’orange to boeuf stroganoff comes in a boil-in-the-bag. What about haddock in a cheese sauce?’
    ‘Why not?’ Charles sat down at the table. ‘Now what’s going on here?’
    As she worked at her domestic chores of taking off cardboard wrappings, piercing cling film and popping packets in the microwave, Agatha told him about the fairies of Fryfam and the theft of the Stubbs.
    ‘But no murder?’ asked Charles. ‘I always see you surrounded by dead bodies.’
    ‘Don’t,’ said Agatha with a shudder. ‘Although there’s a bit more. Tolly’s wife thinks he’s having an affair with Rosie Wilden, who runs the local pub, but she denies it and I believe her.’
    ‘Why?’ mocked Charles. ‘Is she that ugly?’
    ‘On the contrary, she’s a country beauty.’
    ‘Aha, let’s skip the frozen fish and go to the pub.’
    ‘They don’t do meals.’
    ‘What? Not even a Scotch egg?’
    ‘Not even that. It’s like a men’s club or an old-fashioned pub. Women not welcome while the men gawp at Rosie.’
    Charles looked around him. ‘Not bad for a rented cottage. Bit cold, though.’
    ‘No central heating. Lots of logs and I’ll light this Calor gas heater.’
    ‘What on earth brought you here?’
    ‘Just an impulse. I was bored and I stuck a pin in the map.’
    She put a plate of fish in front of Charles. ‘Any wine?’ he asked.
    ‘I’ve got a bottle of Chablis I got in Tesco’s the other day.’
    ‘Tesco’s around here?’
    ‘Norwich.’ Agatha took the bottle out of the fridge and handed him an opener.
    ‘That reminds me,’ she said, ‘the night I arrived I went down to the pub looking for food. Rosie said they didn’t do meals but invited me through to the kitchen to have some of the family food, which was delicious. She gave me this wine which was marvellous. I didn’t know what it was.’
    ‘So why didn’t you ask her?’
    ‘I meant to. But then it went out of my mind. I was taken aback when she wouldn’t let me pay for anything. I’ve been invited to join the women’s group here. I’ve been quilting.’
    Charles snorted with laughter. ‘Poor you. You must have been at your wits’ end for some amusement. So let’s finish this and go out and visit Tolly Trumpington-James.’
    ‘There’ll be police all over the place and Lucy’s cleared off to London.’
    ‘Still, we shall turn our great brains to the task of the missing Stubbs.’
    The rain had settled down to a dismal drizzle. ‘Not much of a place,’ commented Charles as they drove past the village green.
    ‘Looks all right in the sunshine.’
    They drove out to the manor house. Various police cars, vans and other cars were parked outside.
    They went up. Agatha rang the bell. The door was opened by the grumpy-looking woman who had served tea.
    ‘Tell Mr Trumpington-James I wish to see him,’ said Agatha grandly.
    She