Roger sniffed loudly, possibly without even realizing he was doing it, and turned back to Penny. ‘I would never let anything happen to you, Penny. You do know that, don’t you?’
Penny smiled at Roger, giving him her full attention for the first time. ‘Yes; I know that, Roger. I never doubted it. Every now and again I remember what it was I saw in you. A crisis always brings out the best in you. Such a shame it takes so much to make you interesting. Tell me something, Roger …’
‘Of course, darling. Ask me anything.’
‘What’s going on, between you and Alexander? Come on; he’s been hanging around you all weekend, badgering you like a love-struck stalker. What does he want from you?’
Surprisingly, Roger grinned easily. ‘What does he always want? Money, of course. He thinks he can get it out of me. He thinks he can pressure me. He thinks he can get me something I want.’
‘What?’ said Penny.
‘You, of course! But alas, I know better. So, dear old Alex … can sit on it and rotate.’
I left the two young people to smile at each other and switched my attention to Alexander Khan, talking earnestly with Melanie. They were smiling into each other’s eyes and ignoring everyone else.
‘I’m sure you’re right, my dear,’ said Khan. ‘Whatever danger there might have been is quite definitely past. The killer is gone, and we are all perfectly safe. It’s always possible James brought the danger with him, as a result of whatever he was up to. But now the murderer’s got what he wanted, he’s undoubtedly long gone.’
‘Did you know James at all?’ said Melanie. ‘Only sometimes, the way you say his name, I get the distinct impression-’
‘I knew of him,’ Khan said quickly. ‘He had a reputation … in a field I was once involved in. But I never met the man.’
‘Or Ishmael?’ said Melanie.
‘No; that was his father. Daniel. Just one of those strange coincidences, I suppose, that the son of my old colleague should work for Walter’s son. But then, life is full of strange connections. Like us.’
‘Hush,’ said Melanie, still smiling. ‘Not in front of Walter.’
‘He’s not listening.’
‘You can never tell with Walter.’
‘But we will meet, later?’
‘Oh, of course. Later,’ said Melanie. And they went back to smiling into each other’s eyes.
I let my concentration move on, to Diana and Sylvia. Not surprisingly, Sylvia was doing most of the talking. Chattering cheerfully about previous Christmas parties she’d attended, at other great houses. Shamelessly name-dropping minor celebrities, past lovers and important business connections. Diana just nodded, here and there and not always in time, lost in her own memories.
Sylvia finally gave up. ‘Honestly, darling! Here I am, treating you to my very best gossip, and you’re miles away! Whatever is the matter, dear?’
‘My son is dead,’ said Diana. ‘My only child. I never wanted another, until it was far too late.’ She smiled sadly at Sylvia. ‘And so I make do, with my dear young companions. My substitute children. Don’t get too attached to me, dear. I’m a terrible mother.’
And all this time Walter sat alone at the head of his table, lord of all he surveyed; saying nothing, looking at no one. Except, perhaps, at his great family hall. Such a large room, with so few present to enjoy it. Walter was the end of his family history, and he knew it. He had grown old, in an old house. And soon, he wouldn’t even have that. Because he had done well, but not well enough. It’s a hard thing, to know that soon you will have no choice but to sell your family inheritance, for a few last years of comfort.
And then all the conversation broke off abruptly, and everyone looked around as the door slammed open and in came Cook, pushing a large and heavily-laden trolley ahead of her. There was a sudden marvellous smell of hot food, and everyone perked up. Jeeves followed Cook in.
‘Ah, Mrs Bridges!’ said Walter loudly. ‘Dinner, at last!’
‘You’re lucky to have it!’ snapped Cook. A small fierce blonde woman in her late twenties, in a stylized Victorian cook’s outfit, she scowled around the dining table, sparing no one. Her hair was short and spiky, her face red with sweat and exertion, and her gaze was full of an uncomplicated fury. She slammed to a halt, leaning on her trolley while she got her breath back, and looked very much like she would enjoy spitting in the food. Right in front of us.
‘Here’s your dinner!’ she said loudly. ‘On time! And it’s Ms Bridges, thank you very much. Leilah Bridges, and don’t you forget it! I have produced this entire dinner on my own, without any staff or support, under conditions I wouldn’t wish on a deceased dog! That nasty old shit-hole downstairs is the most old-fashioned and inefficient kitchen I have ever had the misfortune to work in. And I’ve been around!’
‘It’s true,’ murmured Jeeves. ‘She has.’
‘So here’s your dinner!’ said Cook. ‘Eat it while it’s hot! I’ll serve the soup, and then I’m out of here. You can help yourselves to the other courses from the trolley, because I’m not coming back. And yes, there is afters. Plum duff, on the bottom shelf. Hope you like your custard thick and lumpy, because that’s how I like it, so that’s how I make it. All right?’
No one dared answer. Cook prowled round the table, shoving the trolley in front of her with sudden bursts of ill-tempered strength, ladling generous amounts of soup into bowls and then slamming them down in front of people, most of whom were wise enough to just sit well back in their chairs and let her get on with it. Khan made the mistake of asking what kind of soup it was, and she slammed the bowl down in front of him so hard, the contents actually jumped up into the air for a moment.
Cook fixed Khan with an openly mutinous glare. ‘Can’t you smell it? That is Mulligatawny! Beef curry soup! Get it down you; it’s good for what ails you. Don’t poke at it like that! It’s supposed to have bits in it!’
She finished her rounds, abandoned the trolley and headed straight for the open door. She paused there, to glare back at us one last time. ‘I could have been at home with my family, safe and sound and stuffed full of good food, but no! I am trapped here in this decrepit old dump, with a murderer lurking in the shadows, and all hell breaking loose outside. I’m only here because I was tempted by the money. I should be getting a bonus! I should be getting danger money! Right; I am out of here. I am going straight back to my kitchen, where I want everyone to know I have a really big cleaver and a complete willingness to use it!’
‘It’s true,’ said Jeeves. ‘She has.’
‘Hold everything,’ I said.
All eyes turned to me. To my surprise, Cook calmed down immediately and studied me with cool, thoughtful eyes.
I nodded at the soup in front of me. ‘It looks fine,’ I said. ‘And it smells delicious. But given that one of us has already been murdered, almost certainly after being drugged … I can’t help wondering how much we can trust whatever is put in front of us.’
Everyone looked at their soup.
I smiled at Cook. ‘No offence to you, Ms Bridges, but anyone could have sneaked down to your kitchen and … interfered with the food. So I have to wonder; do we need a food taster?’
Jeeves moved in beside me, took up my soup spoon, stirred the soup thoroughly, and then raised a spoonful to his mouth. He knocked it back, without a single emotion crossing his face, licked his lips, and then dropped my spoon back into the bowl.
‘Delicious,’ he said.
I picked up the spoon, polished it carefully with my napkin, and then smiled around the table. ‘Well,’ I said. ‘Good enough for me! Bon appetit, everyone.’
Cook said, ‘Hah!’ in a loud and carrying voice, and stomped away. Jeeves went after her, shutting the door quietly but firmly behind them.
‘So,’ said Penny. ‘That’s Cook … Where on earth did you find her, Daddy?’
‘Same place that gave us Jeeves,’ said Walter. ‘Apparently they come as a package … Does anyone want me to say grace?’