Chapter One
Hattie Mulberry typed out a notification on the administration page of her website and hit save, then checked the live site to ensure that her instructions were clear.
H your aunt must be turning in her grave with the fancy new set-up here.’
‘Well, you talked me into it. I was perfectly happy with things the way they were.’
‘Hah! A likely tale.’ Alf raised a bushy eyebrow. ‘It was like living in a squat.’
‘I don’t need a fancy lifestyle,’ Hattie huffed, but the glint in her eye betrayed her. She adored her comforts and as an ex-hotelier managing guests in the lap of luxury, Hattie thrilled at the sight of her own little cottage transformed from a ruin into a wonderful refuge.
‘Tha needs a new bathroom,’ Alf commented. He shifted in his seat and Hattie grimaced as mud, caked on his boots, scattered across the floor.
She knew that Alf was right. When the cottage had been converted, she’d insisted on keeping three bedrooms upstairs with a new shower room tacked on behind the kitchen.
But Hattie was a woman who missed a long soak in a hot bubbly bath, at the end of a busy day.
Standing under a jet of water that pelted her skin like bullets was no substitute, and traipsing to the loo in the dead of the night was often a tricky manoeuvre, especially if Hattie had enjoyed a tipple or two.
More than once, she’d wobbled her way down, careering and cursing and praying not to be taken short as she negotiated the steep curving staircase and darkened rooms.
‘Tha doesn’t need three bedrooms, and with your office out the back, you can easily convert one to a bathroom upstairs.’ Alf reached for another treat for Ness and the dog wolfed it down.
‘You’re after an expensive job,’ Hattie said.
‘Plenty of jobs for me in the village, and beyond,’ Alf said and placed his hands on the arms of his chair as though to rise. ‘Book me now or wait till spring.’
Hattie raised her fingers to her shoulder-length curls and tucked the strawberry blonde locks to one side.
She eyed Alf and wondered if it was time to commission a new job.
Converting the outbuildings to her office had been expensive, in addition to all the work on the cottage, but that was ages ago, and Hattie was hardly short of money.
The thought of a deep roll-top bath, nestling beneath the bay window of a south facing bedroom was almost impossible to ignore.
Winter was approaching and she could think of nothing nicer than submerging herself on a cold frosty day, in heavily scented bubbles, with a gin in one hand and a good book in the other.
Alf was right, she didn’t need three bedrooms. Only one was occasionally used by her best friend, Jo Docherty, and Hattie’s two sons had kids of their own and lived abroad, visiting Cumbria rarely.
If truth be told, Hattie enjoyed travelling to see them far more than hosting lively young families in her own cosy home.
‘I can make a start next week,’ Alf paused, yawning with disinterest. ‘After that, as I said, you’ll have to wait till spring as I’ve a house renovation in Marland that will keep me busy all winter.’
‘Intimidation that’s what this is,’ Hattie pouted, ‘there’s plenty of folk out there who can tackle a new bathroom, I can easily find your replacement.’
‘Aye, but you won’t.’
Alf stood up and Ness thumped her tail against his leg. He removed the butt from behind his ear and lit it. ‘You’ll need to be out of t’way, for a week or two.’
‘What?’ Hattie’s mouth dropped open.
Alf raised his hand and ran his fingers along the spines of books that sat on the shelves lining one wall.
‘Get yourself away on a holiday,’ he said.
‘It’s not as though you’ve any current mysteries to meddle in.
’ He paused as he studied several volumes of Hattie’s favourite author and pulling one off the shelf, held it up.
Then, placing Agatha Christie’s Death on the Nile before Hattie, he pushed it under her nose.
‘A Nile cruise, something different, that’s what you should do,’ Alf said. ‘Think on!’
Hattie thought on for several days. When her mind wasn’t occupied with ordering bathroom fittings, tiles and a posh toilet seat, she contemplated Alf’s advice.
She’d agreed that he should start work on the new bathroom by the third week in November, which gave her two weeks to decide where she would go while the work was carried out.
Hattie could stay with Jo, at one of her friend’s lovely country house hotels.
But she knew it would be impossible to relax in those surroundings, and she’d soon rope herself into work.
November could be a cold wet month in Cumbria and Hattie felt that it would be good to go somewhere warm, to feel a bit of heat on her tired bones and refresh both her mind and body, ideally somewhere new.
She would return home, relaxed and ready to review any new cases that were waiting in her inbox.
Sitting in the garden room while rain lashed down outside and thunder crashed, Hattie flicked through holiday sites on her laptop, looking for last minute inspiration.
A couple of weeks in sunny Madeira looked promising, with colourful flower markets and interesting walks.
Her eyes studied a snow-dusted winter chalet in the Dolomites where skiing the magnificent slopes was a highlight.
‘Not a chance,’ Hattie sighed, puffing out her cheeks. The thought of bundling up her body in a vice-like snowsuit and balancing on two tiny planks, to throw herself off the side of a mountain, did little to encourage a booking, although the après-ski looked tempting.
On the coffee table beside her, the book that Alf had chosen lay as though waiting for Hattie to pick it up.
Death on the Nile was her favourite, and Hattie knew that if she began to read it again, she wouldn’t stop.
Outside, a storm had gathered, and lightening lit up the sky in a jagged white flash, while thunder rolled in close.
Hattie snapped her laptop shut and stared at the book. Gilt letters on the cover flickered in the light of the storm, seeming to dance. Fascinated, Hattie felt a shiver as she turned a page. The story took place on a Nile river cruise. Was the tale inviting her in?
‘A cruise!’ Hattie exclaimed. ‘Of course, Alf was right!’
Hattie loved cruising, and with her second husband, Hugo, in the brief two years of their marriage, they’d travelled to many far-flung destinations.
Yet somehow, a Nile cruise had never made it onto their itinerary.
She visualised the slow, sunlit river winding its way from Luxor to Aswan, gliding past golden temples, whispering palms and age-old buildings.
Just like a scene from her favourite novel.
She felt a ripple of pleasure at the thought of exotic sights and a canopied sundeck where she could relax and unwind as the ancient world passed by.
Hattie opened her laptop again and began typing into a search engine for tour companies that offered such holidays. At least she’d be out from under Alf’s feet and away from the clatter of hammers and drills and constant clouds of dust.
Yes! Hattie thought with a satisfied smile, a river cruise on the Nile. A proper, well-earned holiday!