‘Ah,’ said Kitty, ‘tea. The cup that cheers but not inebriates.’
The steward laid the table with cups and saucers, plates of ham sandwiches, seedcake, and biccies with custard then left without a word or a bow. The two of them stared at the table but not because of the treats on offer.
‘You will have noticed, no doubt, Cadbury, the table’s laid for three.’
‘I had, yes.’
‘There’s someone I want you to meet. A young person I’d like you to keep an eye on. Give her the benefit of your experience.’ He moved toward the door and called out, ‘My dear!’ A moment and then a girl of around twenty years appeared and gave Cadbury the most dreadful fright. The sense that you have seen a ghost from the past is disturbing to anyone, but imagine how much worse it is when you were the one responsible for that ghostliness. The last time Cadbury had seen her was while they had both been spying on Cale at Treetops – a chore that had finished with him putting an arrow in her back. In the perpetual gloom required by Kitty the Hare to shield his so-sensitive eyes, it took him a few moments to realize that this was not the late Jennifer Plunkett nor her twin but a younger though disturbingly similar relative. It wasn’t just her looks that gave the similarity but the same disfiguring blankness of expression.
‘Meet Daniel Cadbury, my lover.’ This peculiar endearment was addressed to the girl and was merely an alternative to ‘my dear’ but deliberately more disconcerting. ‘He and your sister were old friends and often worked side by side. Daniel, this is Deidre Plunkett who’s come to work with us and share her very considerable skills.’
Even though he realized his mistake quickly enough, there was reason for Cadbury still to be unnerved: the surviving relatives of people you had murdered were generally best avoided.
Kitty had insisted that Cadbury bring Deidre with him in the attempt to track down the Two Trevors: ‘Take her under your wing, Cadbury,’ he’d said. But the question for Cadbury was what kind of mockery was involved here. Jennifer Plunkett had been a murderous nutcase who, without ever speaking to the boy, had conceived a deep passion for Cale as she spent days watching him swimming naked in the lakes around Treetops. Cale had laughed and shouted for joy for the first time in his life as he swam and fished and ate the wonderful food prepared by IdrisPukke, and sang horribly out-of-tune garbled versions of the songs he’d picked up while he was in Memphis: Weigh a pie in the sky. The ants are my friends. She’s got floppy ears, She’s got floppy ears.
Jennifer had been convinced that Kitty meant Cale harm: this was not the case, in fact, or at least probably not the case. Jennifer had tried to stab Cadbury in a bid to protect her beloved and when she failed had run towards the astonished Cale screaming blue murder. It was at this point that Cadbury had put an arrow in her back. What choice did he have? Afterwards, he had decided it might be better if he told Kitty that Cale was responsible, startled into action by the sudden appearance of a murderous screaming harpy. ‘Honesty is the best policy’ may not be a virtuous guideline (the man who believes that honesty is the best policy is not an honest man) but it was one he should have followed in this instance. Not only was he now left with the problem of what to do about Deidre Plunkett, but also of working out whether her sudden appearance was just a coincidence or Kitty’s revenge for having been lied to. If the latter, the question was what sort of lesson his employer had in mind.
At any rate, he took Deidre with him to negotiate with the Two Trevors. If things went fat-fingered, which they easily might, there was a chance the Trevors might solve the problem for him. On the other hand, they might solve all his problems permanently.
‘You’re coming with me, keep your cake-hole shut and don’t make any sudden moves.’
‘You’ve no call to talk to me like that.’
Cadbury didn’t bother to reply.
‘The rest of you,’ he said to the others. ‘Keep back but in calling distance.’
They ignored Kevin Meatyard on their way past, it being clear he wasn’t going to be any trouble given the state he was in, and in a few minutes they caught up with the Two Trevors.
‘Can we talk?’ shouted Cadbury from behind a tree.
Lugavoy nodded the two of them forward. ‘That’s far enough. What do you want?’
‘Kitty the Hare thinks there’s been a misunderstanding and he’d like to resolve it.’
‘Consider it resolved.’
‘He’d like to resolve it personally.’
‘We’ll be sure to drop in next time we’re passing.’
‘Your friend looks a bit peaky.’
He was, in fact, the colour of half-dry putty.
‘He’ll live.’
‘I’m not sure you’re right about that.’
‘Who’s your skinny friend?’ Lugavoy asked.
‘This young lady is a most deadly person. I’d show her more respect.’
‘You look familiar, sonny.’
‘Keep going, mister,’ said Deidre, ‘and you’ll be laughing on the other side of your face.’
‘My apologies, but she’s very young and doesn’t know any better.’
‘Don’t be apologizing for me,’ said Deidre.
Cadbury raised his eyebrows as if to say, ‘What can you do?’
‘As I see it, Trevor, you’re not going to make it to wherever you were planning to go so the question of your intentions coming into conflict with Kitty the Hare’s interests doesn’t apply for the foreseeable future. If you want your partner to live, I don’t really see what the problem is.’
‘What’s to stop you killing us as we sleep?’
‘You shouldn’t judge others by your own low standards.’
Trevor laughed. ‘Point taken. But still I worry.’
‘What can I say? Except that it’s not in Kitty the Hare’s mind to do so.’
‘And what is in his mind?’
‘Why don’t you come back to Spanish Leeds and ask him?’
‘So he doesn’t trust you enough to tell you?’
‘Are you trying to hurt my feelings? I’m touched. The thing is that while Kitty the Hare has considerable respect for you both, it so happens you’re on a path that brings your interests into conflict with his. He prefers his own interests.’
‘Fair enough.’
‘I’m glad that you think so. Are we agreed?’
‘Yes.’
‘We have kaolin. That should make him feel better.’
‘Thanks.’
Cadbury gestured to Deidre Plunkett. She brought out a small flask from her saddlebag and, getting down, walked over to Kovtun.
‘Take an eighth,’ she said. Cadbury put two fingers in his mouth and let out a whistle so shrill it made Lugavoy flinch. In response the dozen men waiting over the hill emerged in three staggered sets of four and spread out wide.
‘Nasty-looking bunch,’ said Lugavoy. ‘But someone knows what they’re doing.’
The skilled approach-work he so admired was being directed by Kleist; the villainous-looking types he was controlling were Klephts, and so rather less dangerous than they appeared. Cadbury had hired them in a hurry because so many of his usual thugs had been struck down with the squits, in fact the same typhoid from which Trevor Kovtun was suffering and from the same source in a water pump in the centre of Spanish Leeds. The rise in the number of people taking refuge there on the rumours of a war with the Redeemers was already exacting a price. It was all very unsatisfactory but the Klephts did look the part and they had clearly fought against the Redeemers and were still alive – no mean recommendation. About Kleist he knew nothing – he was not a Klepht but he seemed always to have the ear of the Klepht gangmaster who, for some reason, was called Dog-End. In fact, Kleist was mostly in charge but it was thought best not to have a boy seen to be their leader.
On their way back they had to pass by Kevin Meatyard.