Agatha Raisin and the Love from Hell

as Megan.
    ‘She must have told Megan it was I who had counselled her to change her will. Megan walked in on me and started berating me. She then swung a hammer at my head. I staggered off. I got in the car and drove until I realized I was too ill to drive any more. I got out. I wanted to get away from the whole mess. I hitched a lift and told the truck driver I had suffered a fall. He said he would drop me at the John Radcliffe hospital in Oxford. I did not go in. I waited in the meadows until dawn and sponged the blood from my head.
    ‘I got out on the A40 and another truck driver took me as far as London. I got a bus from Victoria coach station to the coast. You see, in all my distress and shame, all I could think of was this monastery.’
    ‘The police were looking everywhere for you,’ said Agatha. ‘They must have missed the coach station. How did you get over to France?’
    ‘Friends, with a yacht. I worked my way south until I got to here. I never thought for a moment Melissa was in danger. I thought someone would have seen Megan leaving my cottage, have heard the noise. I thought that by now Melissa would have realized that when I told her Megan was dangerous, I was speaking the truth.’
    ‘So where do we go from here?’ asked Agatha, searching his face for some sign of that old affection, but James’s face was set and bleak.
    ‘I would like to join this order. I found a faith here, Agatha, and that faith cured me.’ He smiled wryly. ‘I’ve always missed army life, and this is very like it, the order and discipline.’
    ‘What about us?’
    James looked at her sadly. ‘I hope you will give me a divorce, Agatha.’
    Agatha shrugged. ‘Sure,’ she said. Another woman she could have battled against, would have battled against, but how on earth did you fight God?
    ‘I planned to return in a week’s time to clear things up. I shall see you then.’ He stood up. ‘I must go. Someone will soon come looking for me and you should not be here.’
    Agatha stood up as well. She held out her hand. James gave it a firm handshake. ‘See you next week.’
    Then he smiled sweetly at her and raised his hand in benediction. Agatha suddenly found she was so angry, she was shaking.
    ‘Get stuffed, James,’ she said evenly.
    He gave her a sorrowful look, and putting his cowl over his head, walked away through the garden.
    Agatha felt old and weary and the sustaining anger drained out of her. She hoisted herself up the wall and rested for a moment, lying across the top. ‘Want me to come up and help you?’ came Charles’s voice.
    ‘No, I’ll manage.’ Agatha fumbled her way down the other side.
    ‘That was James,’ said Charles, ‘and what did he have to say for himself?’
    As they walked across the field to the other wall, Agatha told him. Charles made an odd sound. She stopped and stared at him. ‘You’re laughing?’
    ‘I can’t help it,’ chuckled Charles. ‘My husband, the mad monk.’
    Overwrought, Agatha slapped him across the face. Charles promptly slapped her back, hard, and then fell on to the ground, rolling over and over, holding his sides and roaring with laughter.
    Agatha stared down at him, holding her cheek where he had slapped her, the anger ebbing out of her.
    And then she began to laugh helplessly as well.
    ‘That’s better,’ said Charles, getting up and putting an arm around her shoulders. ‘So does he want a divorce? You didn’t say anything about that.’
    ‘Yes, and he’s welcome to one. He’ll be back next week to wrap things up.’
    ‘How’s his tumour?’
    ‘He says he’s cured.’
    ‘I can see where he’s at,’ said Charles. ‘If I’d had a brain tumour and a bunch of monks cured me with their religious belief, I’d be joining a monastery as well.’
    ‘Not if you loved your wife, you wouldn’t.’
    ‘So do you think you’ll be able to live with it?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Agatha. And with increasing surprise: ‘Yes, I think I can. It really is all over now.’

Epilogue
    ‘And is he definitely coming back?’ asked Bill Wong. ‘Or do we have to send out men to bring him back?’
    ‘Oh, he’ll be back any day now. To wrap things up.’
    ‘I don’t see that we can really charge him with anything,’ said Bill. ‘A good lawyer would get him off like a shot. Attacked and injured, not himself, thought he was dying, didn’t look at newspapers. How did he get over to France?’
    ‘Friends with a yacht.’
    ‘I can understand James not