The Deadly Dance - M. C. Beaton [75]
“What about a Christmas dinner at your home? I don’t think you’ve used that dining-room of yours at all. And if you held it, say, two weeks before Christmas, there’s a chance both of them might be free of social engagements.”
“But why would they come?”
“There’s something about the idea of a Christmas dinner that mellows everyone. And I will help you with the cooking.”
“That’s kind of you. But I’ll do it all myself”
“Mrs. Raisin, can you roast a turkey?”
“Any idiot can roast a turkey.”
“Not really. We’ll talk about it some more. And don’t forget to ask Miss Simms.”
“All right. But she’s not working for me any more.” “But Patrick Mullen is.” “What’s that to do with it?”
“Patrick Mullen is Miss Simms’s new gentleman friend.”
“The sly old dog. Let me see. There’ll be Sammy and Douglas, Patrick and Miss Simms, Sally and Edie, Charles and Roy, you and your husband …”
“Aren’t Sammy and Douglas married?”
“No, neither.”
“Ell help you. But it’s a terribly busy time of year for Alf and he won’t be able to come.” Mrs. Bloxby meant her husband would refuse to come.
“Well, that’ll be eight, ten including you and me, if you can make it. But this time I am going to do all the cooking.”
“And what about Bill Wong?”
“Oh dear.” Agatha actually blushed with embarrassment. “What’s happening to me? I won’t have a friend left if I go on like this.”
“Are you really sure you can cope with cooking for all these people?”
“Definitely. It will be a Christmas dinner to remember.”
EPILOGUE
AGATHA had special invitation cards in red and gold and green printed, asking each recipient to RSVP.
She heaved a sigh of relief when first Roy accepted and then Charles. She had travelled to a turkey farm to choose the largest bird and ordered it to be killed, plucked and hung for several days before delivery.
After studying various recipes for Christmas pudding, she decided it would be safer to buy one. The starter would be simple, smoked salmon wrapped round prawns with a Marie Rose sauce.
The turkey must have all the trimmings—cranberry sauce, sprouts, sweet corn, stuffed mushrooms and gravy. The dining room must be decorated. She must buy really good Christmas crackers. Then should she buy a small present for each guest? Was that going too far? She decided she might as well go the whole hog.
If only the shops weren’t so busy. If only that damned Christmas music would stop belting out over the harassed customers. She felt if she heard another rendering of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” she would scream. The song sounded in her ears like a sneer.
Then there was the Christmas tree which she lugged home, only to find it too tall for the low-beamed ceiling of the dining-room. She sawed the top off and it looked exactly like a Christmas tree with the top sawn off She threw it into the garden and went and bought another and then spent a whole evening decorating it with golden bows and pretty glass balls. She woke during the night to the tinkle of breaking glass and rushed down to the dining-room.
Hodge and Boswell were happily baiting the ornaments with their paws and watching as they dropped to the ground and shattered. She shouted at both of them and the alarmed cats ran up the tree, which keeled over and fell with a crash to the floor.
The next day, Agatha had to go out and buy new ornaments and enlist Doris Simpson’s help in cleaning up the mess the cats had made. Then Agatha began to sense—an unusual sensitivity in her case—that Doris was hurt that she had not been invited to the dinner.
Agatha darted through to her desk, where she had fortunately two spare invitations, and quickly penned in Doris’s and her husband’s names.
“Oh, Doris,” she said. “I am so sorry. I forgot to put these in the post!” And she handed Doris the cards.
Doris’s face lit up with delight. “That’s ever so kind of you. Of course we’ll come.”
Once the tree was redecorated, with green and silver and red chains decorating the rest of the room, Agatha thought the rest of the house looked bare in