Agatha Raisin and Kissing Christmas Goodbye Read Online Free

over the gate.’
    ‘It might be a farm,’ said Roy uneasily, looking at the fields of wheat that stretched out on either side of a road on the other side of the gate. ‘We could walk
miles.’
    ‘Don’t be such a wimp. Come on.’
    As Agatha climbed over the gate, her hip gave a nasty twinge. She had been told she had arthritis in her right hip and would need a hip replacement. She had gone back to her Pilates classes
earlier in the year but had recently stopped going.
    Thankful that she had put on a trouser suit and flat shoes, Agatha began to trudge along the road.
    After two miles of walking, her feet were aching and her bad hip was throbbing.
    ‘It must be here somewhere,’ she said, exasperated. ‘There are trees up ahead. Might be there.’
    But when they reached the trees it was to find another sign, on a post this time, with the legend THE MANOR HOUSE picked out in gold paint. Ahead of them lay a metalled
driveway.
    Glad to be under the shade of the trees, they walked on. The road twisted and turned, thickly wooded on either side.
    ‘We’ve been walking for hours,’ groaned Roy.
    After what seemed an age, they arrived at a lodge house and could see the road stretching on between two fields where sheep cropped the grass, to buildings at the top of a rise.
    ‘Nearly there,’ said Agatha. Now she was beginning to wish she had phoned instead. Her linen trouser suit was beginning to stick to her back and she knew her face was shiny.
    ‘The only thing that’s keeping me going,’ said Roy, ‘is the thought of all the pounds of weight I must be losing.’
    They passed some well-ordered stables, turned a corner and found the house at last. It was a square Georgian house with a porticoed entrance and one long Victorian wing to one side.
    ‘It’s very quiet,’ said Roy. ‘What if she was down at that meeting in the pub?’
    ‘We’re here anyway. May as well ring the bell.’
    They rang the bell and waited. At last the door was opened by a small, stout, motherly-looking woman wearing an old-fashioned flowery pinafore over a black dress.
    ‘We have come to see your mistress,’ said Agatha grandly.
    ‘That being?’
    ‘Mrs Tamworthy of course.’
    ‘You’ve found her. I’m Mrs Tamworthy.’
    Agatha flushed with embarrassment. A drop of sweat ran down her cheek. ‘I am so sorry. I am Agatha Raisin. You wrote to me.’
    ‘So I did. Come in.’
    They followed her across a hall and into a large airy sitting room overlooking a vista of lawns and ornamental lake.
    ‘Sit down,’ ordered Mrs Tamworthy. ‘Drink?’
    ‘Please,’ said Agatha. ‘Gin and tonic, if you have it.’
    ‘Beer for me,’ said Roy and Agatha looked at him in surprise. She had never known Roy to drink beer.
    Mrs Tamworthy went to a drinks cupboard in the corner. ‘You live a long way from the village,’ said Agatha. ‘We had quite a walk. The gates are padlocked.’
    ‘You never came that long way! You should have come through Upper Tapor. The gates on that side are always open and only a few yards off the road.’
    There was a little refrigerator under the drinks cupboard. Agatha soon heard the welcome tinkle of ice being dropped in a glass.
    ‘Drinks are ready,’ called Mrs Tamworthy. They both rose to their feet, Agatha wincing as she did so.
    When they were all seated again, Agatha asked, ‘Who is trying to kill you?’
    ‘One of the family will try, I think. They are all coming here next Saturday for my eightieth birthday.’
    ‘Eighty! You don’t look it.’
    ‘It’s one of the benefits of being fat, my dear. It stretches the wrinkles.’
    Agatha noticed for the first time that Mrs Tamworthy’s hair, worn in a French pleat, was dyed brown. There were deep wrinkles around her eyes but her cheeks were smooth. Her eyes were
small and black, the kind of eyes which are good at concealing the owner’s feelings. She was very small, very round, with only the vestige of a waist. Her feet, encased in flat slippers,