“Good riddance, I say,” Mrs. Lachlan piped up. My ears perked up.
“Cynthia, how could you say that?” Mrs. Ellis admonished. “Gladys was our dear friend.”
“She was a spiteful old hag who had to have her way witheverything,”Mrs. Lachlan spat. “Look at the farce she’s made of the planning committee. Nature silenced her wicked tongue before someone thought to take matters into their own hands.”
I shuddered at Mrs. Lachlan’s cruel words. Mrs. Ellis stiffened. “Well, I shan't expect you to assist with the funeral preparations.”
“Likely not,” Mrs. Lachlan set down her teacup and stood up. “I think I’m quite finished here. Ladies, if you’ll excuse me, my husband will need me.”
“He’ll need you to plan the celebratory party,” Mrs. Ellis muttered as Mrs. Lachlan hurried off.
The other ladies finished their tea and headed off. Mrs. Ellis was the last to leave. She leaned over the desk and clasped my hands in hers. “I’m terribly sorry you had to see that today, Mina. It’s the price you pay for making friends with old biddies like Gladys and myself. I want you to know that you had nothing to do with her death – it was just a horrible accident. Just yesterday Gladys told me how much she enjoyed meeting you and how she was looking forward to having young blood in the book club.”
“Mrs. Lachlan sure seems to hate her.”
“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Ellis tsked. “It’s such a shame. They used to be very good friends before that business with the King’s Copse development.”
“What was it that Mrs. Scarlett opposed, exactly?” King’s Copse was part of the ancient wood just outside Argleton. Much of the original wood was cleared for forestry thirty years ago. Only a few acres of the original wood remained. It was a popular place for Argleton’s youth to congregate to smoke weed and get up to shenanigans. If I didn’t feel like reading or Mr. Simson closed the shop early, I often used to go to the wood and sit by the stream.
“A few years back, Cynthia’s husband Grey purchased King’s Copse with the idea of turning the cleared areas into a housing development. Well, as you know, Gladys heads up the town planning committee. She’s an amazing civil servant. She sits on the hall repair fundraising committee, the town beautification league, the garden society, and our very own book club. She makes it her business to know everything about everyone in the village. Anyway, Grey applied for planning consent to build four hundred houses on the site. All modern homes, not at all in the traditional vernacular of the village. The committee isn’t happy, of course. They’ve made so many complaints about the design. Grey had to redesign the site three times, but he won’t let go of his ugly modern design,” she wrinkled her nose. “Mrs. Lachlan isn’t pleased the application keeps being kicked back, but it’s not Gladys’ fault. Gladys felt it was her duty to inform the committee about Grey’s outstanding debts from a failed project in London. Now the committee wants to deny him outright. Of course, Cynthia told us about the debts in confidence at a book club meeting. There might have been some Champagne involved.” Mrs. Ellis smiled sweetly. “She was ever so upset when she discovered Gladys told the committee. There’s been a terrible tension between them ever since.”
“Oh, that’s a shame.” In my head, I wondered if perhaps this planning committee was the reason Argleton seemed so frozen in time. The village, with its wattle-and-daub cottages and Tudor pub, was gorgeous, but that didn't mean modern design couldn’t also look nice or be nice to live in. You couldn’t spend your entire life looking backward at the past.
You’re one to talk, I reminded myself, thinking about how much I still wished I could go back to the past, to before my diagnosis, when I was going to be a New York fashion designer.
“Don’t take what Cynthia says to heart. I’m sure she’s just in shock, like the rest of us. She’ll come around. After all, the Lachlan’s live in a gorgeous Georgian manor on the top of the hill. They can’t say they don’t love traditional design.” Mrs. Ellis winked at me as she looped her carpet bag over her shoulder. “I hope you’ll continue to be part of our book club, Mina. Perhaps you can help us choose moreracyreading material. Honestly, I don’t know why anyone bothers banning half these books!”
Mrs. Ellis winked at me again as she left. As soon as the door swung shut, Quoth popped his head up from behind the desk. He must’ve just transformed from his raven form, because he was naked. My cheeks flared with heat as I tried not to look.
“So that’s your old schoolteacher?” His eyes widened.
“She’s something else. Apparently, she still volunteered to teach sex education classes right up until her retirement.” I slid open Heathcliff’s snack drawer and rummaged around, withdrawing a Wagon Wheel that was only slightly smushed. I unwrapped the chocolate and offered half to Quoth. He shook his head. “Not fruity enough for you?”
“I don’t want to spoil my dinner. Morrie’s cooking tonight.”
“He can cook in that bomb site you call a kitchen?”
Morrie leaned his head around the door. “I heard my name.”
“Hey!” I rushed over and embraced him, his steadiness drawing the last of my fear and anxiety from my body. “What did you get up to today?”
“A little consulting work for a private client.” Morrie slid his tailored jacket off his shoulders, revealing a crisp white shirt that accentuated his height and slim muscles. With his pretty-boy good looks and love of fine fashion, Morrie would be right at home on a Paris runway.
“Counterfeiter or money-launderer?”
Morrie raised an eyebrow. “Do you really want to know?”
“Nope.”
“Then don’t ask. How was the book club?”
Quoth winced, but with Morrie’s arm sliding around my waist, I managed to get the words out. “It started off well enough, but then the Terror of Argleton showed up and scared everyone, which gave Mrs. Scarlett a heart attack and she died.”
Morrie shuddered. “That mouse was back? We need to call an exterminator. Or the SAS. This is not acceptable.”
“Didn’t you hear what I said? Mrs. Scarlettdiedwith her face in a Victoria sponge cake. It was horrible.”
“Thatishorrible.” Morrie kissed my forehead. “I was looking forward to a slice of that.”
