The Impossible Poisoning.

Chapter 3

The morning came with a flurry of activity. Hettie had telephoned her friend Felicity the previous night, and whilst she and Broker packed themselves up, Isabel and I repacked our own suitcases and hunted for my toothbrush, which seemed to have been eaten by some unknown toothbrush monster as we simply could not find it anywhere.

Newham and Fisher, having spent a surprisingly comfortable night in Hettie's lounge, were busy putting it back to rights. I had laughed as I had come in that morning, as the two of them (to conserve heat, they said) had moved the sofa and the two armchairs as close to the fire and each other as possible, putting the two armchairs end-on-end for Fisher, who was shortest, and Newham had been left stretched out on the sofa, his feet nearly hanging off the end.

"Percy!" I heard Hettie yell, as Isabel and I rifled through the bathroom cupboards for the eighth time.

"Het?" her husband replied.

"Have you put in my bonnet with the tying ribbons on? Because I'm sure Felicity will want to take us sailing, and I simply can't lose another hat, since I left the blue one on the bus last Friday..."

"Hettie!" her husband groaned. "That hat was a present from my mother! She'll be so upset you've lost it!"

"It was from Cheapside!" Hettie called back nonchalantly. "I can go and buy another one just like it for the next time we see her! She won't tell the difference!"

"She will tell the difference! She's my mother, Hettie, and you know how she is!"

Broker himself then stuck his head through our door.

"Are you two ready?" he asked calmly.

"Almost" I smiled, not fancying telling Broker I had lost my toothbrush just yet. "Just finishing up."

He left, and I looked across at Isabel. She was looking a little apprehensive.

"Sailing?" she said bluntly, when I asked her what the matter was.

"It'll be fine" I sighed, squeezing her shoulders. "It won't be like those little dinghy things you're used to. It'll be proper sailing."

Isabel looked petulantly at me again, before springing across the room as something on the floor caught her eye.

"Finally!" she exclaimed, picking up my toothbrush.

"It must have fallen off the sink" I smiled loosely, as I grabbed my suitcase and slung my side-bag over my shoulder. "Come on."

We staggered downstairs, and dumped all our bags in the waiting cart, clambering in, the six of us.

"It's a gorgeous cottage, Het" I commented, from sitting next to her.

"It's better in the summer" Hettie replied, as the cart began to bounce off down the track.

"Yes" Broker agreed wistfully. "In the winter, it's a little..."

"Cold?" Newham and Fisher chipped in simultaneously.

"...cold" the private finished.

There was a ripple of laughter that ran around the cart. I realized we were all too nervous to joke properly, as we sat in companiable silence and carried on our journey. I put my head on Newham's shoulder, and I saw Fisher take Isabel's hand. Broker and Hettie chattered quietly, local gossip, I assumed, and I couldn't blame them. They still really didn't know what they were up against, and I wasn't going to tell them. Not yet.

We didn't have to take the train, but in a way that was its own curse, as the cart was indefinitely uncomfortable and the journey depressingly long. We didn't stop for lunch, Hettie handed around sandwiches at about midday, and the chatter picked up. I didn't really want to join in. Something was starting to bug me. I couldn't explain it, but I felt it in my chest.