“I’ll lend you a pair of wellingtons when you leave,” said Mrs. Bloxby. “I’ll get some coffee.”

Agatha leaned back and closed her eyes as Mrs. Bloxby went off to the kitchen. It suddenly felt good to be back.

Mrs. Bloxby came back with a tray with mugs of coffee.

“What’s the gossip?” asked Agatha.

“Er…James was here when you were away.”

Agatha sat bolt upright. “Where is he now?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know. He only stayed for an afternoon. He said he was travelling abroad.”

“Rats!” said Agatha gloomily, all the old pain flooding back. “Did you tell him where I was?”

“Yes, I did,” said the vicar’s wife awkwardly. “I told him where you were living in London and gave him your phone number.”

“He didn’t call,” said Agatha miserably.

“He did seem in a bit of a rush. He sent his love.”

“That’s a joke,” said Agatha bitterly.

“Now drink your coffee. I know it’s early, but would you like something stronger?”

“I don’t want to start down that road, especially for a creep like James,” said Agatha.

“Have you met your new neighbour?”

“No. I saw him when he moved in, I mean from a distance, but then I got the chance of this PR job and took off for London. What’s he like?”

“Seems pleasant and clever.”

“What does he do?”

“He works in computers. Free-lance. He’s just finished a big contract. He says he’s glad it’s over. He was commuting to Milton Keynes and back every day.”

“That’s a long haul. No murders?”

“No, Mrs. Raisin. I should think you’ve had enough of those. There is a small mystery, however.”

“What’s that?”

“Alf was recently asked to perform an exorcism, but he refused.” Alf was the vicar. “Alf says he only believes in the divine spirit and no other kind.”

“Where’s the ghost?”