No Cooperation from the Cat (19 page)

“When do you think it will be safe to go back?”

“About mid-April.” Evangeline cherished no false hopes.

Glumly, I looked around for a shop where we could buy umbrellas. It was going to be a long day.

“Boots!” Evangeline had been keeping an eye out, too. “Over there. They always have umbrellas.”

“You mean we haven’t run them out of stock yet?” No two ways about it, we really had to learn to carry umbrellas with us when we went out. We couldn’t go on accumulating them like this …

*   *   *

“Offhand, I can’t say that was the worst film I’d ever seen, but it’s certainly well up there in the running.” At least, it had stopped raining when we emerged from the cinema.

“So bad it was almost good,” Evangeline agreed.

“It reminded me of that famous letter the boy wrote home from boarding school: ‘The senior class put on
Hamlet
for the school play…’” I began.

“‘Some of the parents had already seen it, but they laughed anyway.’” Evangeline finished the quotation.

We briefly released the giggles we had been stifling through the dire film, then Evangeline grew serious again.

“Should we risk going back to the flat, do you think? I doubt that Jocasta has done any cooking, but perhaps we could pull something out of the freezer and thaw it. Or should we try for a table at the Harpo?”

I liked that
we
. As though she ever did any cooking—or thawing—herself. I knew who’d end up doing all the work. “The Harpo, by all means.”

*   *   *

And there he was. Robin-Toby-Jake. Strange, the way once you become aware of something—or someone—they seem to show up everywhere. Of course, he worked here, we had just never been properly aware of him before.

“Ladies!” He greeted us with delight. “Of course, there’s a table for you. Always. One of mine has just been readied. This way please.” We followed him to a table.

“
Everyone’s
here tonight,” he confided. “But don’t worry. There’ll always be room for you.” He produced our menus with a flourish, then darted off in response to a plaintive bleat from a neighbouring table. They seemed to have been waving at him for quite some time.

“Don’t look now!” Evangeline warned sharply, just as I began to look around to see who comprised “everyone” in Robin’s opinion. I settled back in my chair, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“Directly behind you,” Evangeline said. “No—don’t turn. See if you can catch a glimpse in the mirror over there.”

By squirming around a bit and tilting my chair as though I were adjusting it, I managed to get a glimpse of the reflection in the mirror.

“Good heavens—it’s Frella!”

“And she’s with Jem,” Evangeline said grimly. “I didn’t know he was up in town again.”

“Well, of course,” I tried to be reasonable, “he doesn’t have to tell you everything he does.”

Abruptly, disconcertingly, Frella seemed to look straight into my eyes in the mirror. We both froze.

Too late, I remembered the bit of information that had hitherto stood me in good stead in a lifetime of crowded dressing rooms: if you can see someone else’s eyes in a mirror, they can see you.

We both looked away hurriedly, pretending the momentary contact hadn’t happened, but it had and we both knew it.

“Something wrong?” Evangeline wanted to know.

“She’s spotted me.”

“Bad luck. You should have been more careful.” She returned her attention to the menu.

I continued to look around the room, paying more attention to the placement of the mirrors. The place was filling up with the pre-theatre crowd, cheerful and laughing and anticipating a pleasant evening ahead.

One laugh sounded above the others: Frella’s—and with a defiant ring to it. Almost a challenge. If it was aimed at me, I wasn’t going to pick it up. I’d already figured that she wasn’t going into deepest mourning over Teddy. Although I’d be interested to know what she’d been doing prowling about our dock after the sad event. Returning to the scene of the crime? But had she been responsible? If so, how had she known where Teddy could be found in the first place?

Unless … When had Teddy actually purchased that revolting harness for Cho-Cho? If Frella knew about it, she’d know Teddy would be visiting us. Perhaps he’d even mentioned it to her on one of what seemed to be the increasingly infrequent occasions when they met. She could have been lying in wait for him.

Perhaps … A cold chill slid down my spine. Perhaps she’d even hoped to kill both Teddy and Cho-Cho at the same time. Teddy, to get rid of him. Cho-Cho out of sheer spite.

Something flickered at the corner of my vision. I blinked and it flickered again. I turned to bring it into focus.

“Isn’t that Nigel?” Evangeline’s attention had been attracted, too.

“What’s he doing here?”

Not waving, but drowning, it looked like. A very elderly gentleman was sitting at the table with him. They bore a vague resemblance to each other. I suspected this was the aged relative Nigel occasionally mentioned. Nigel was now semaphoring wildly, like a castaway on a desert island trying to signal to a passing ship. It looked as though he had been experiencing heavy weather entertaining his companion.

We smiled at Nigel and waved back with enthusiasm. It was so good to see someone who was not only not ignoring us, but actually seemed to want to talk to us.

Nigel rose and said something to his companion. It looked to be along the lines of “I’ll be back in a minute.” He might as well have saved his breath. As he started towards us, I accidentally made eye contact with his relative while I was still waving and beaming invitingly.

The old boy jolted upright as though a bolt of electricity had shot through him. He lurched to his feet and followed Nigel. It seemed as though he’d been having heavy weather himself. Perhaps Nigel had been trying to sell him a flock of ostriches.

Nigel reached our table, a hopeful smile on his face. I noticed that Evangeline had one eye over his shoulder as she caught him by the collar, pulled him down, and kissed him soundly on both cheeks before swinging him over to me. I can take a cue. I did the same. He reeled backwards slightly as I released him.

“So these lovely ladies are your friends?”

Nigel leaped a mile. He thought he’d left the aged relative waiting safely at the nearby table.

“Egad, boy! I didn’t know you had such good taste. I trust you’re going to introduce us.”

“Ah!… Ah!…” Nigel was still reeling. “Uncle, this is Evangeline Si—”

“Not that way round, boy! I know who they are. Introduce
me
to
them
!”

“Ah, yes. Sorry. Of course. Evangeline, Trixie, this is my Uncle Humbug-Humbert! Humbert—Humbert!”

“Don’t be a fool, boy! I know what the family calls me behind my back. They wouldn’t dare, to my face!”

“Ah, yes. Sorry, sorry,” Nigel babbled. “It was just—”

There was something going on here that we weren’t clued in to. Behind Evangeline, Jem had snapped to attention and was watching us intently.

“You’re joining the ladies.” It wasn’t a question, it was a fact. Robin dashed up, carrying the chair from their table. Another waiter was right behind him with the second chair.

“Delighted! If I may?” There was little question in his voice, either. “Champagne—” he called, as the waiters brought the place settings from their former table. “Champagne for the beautiful ladies! The best!” He fell into his chair, beaming at us. “Call me Bertie.”

We did the only thing possible: we fluttered our eyelashes as him and cooed appreciatively. We’d both been here before, it was like old times. It
was
old times.

Nigel slid into his seat, looking inordinately pleased with himself. He gave us both an approving nod. Of course, it was a relief to have someone else around to share the burden when dealing with a difficult relative—they’re always on their best behaviour when they’re in the company of strangers. We’d all been there.

Then Evangeline gave me an entirely different nod and I followed the sideways dart of her eyes towards the mirror where Frella could be seen standing up and leaning forward to say something to Jem.

Then Frella straightened and started across the room. She left her shawl draped over the back of her chair, so she was obviously heading for the powder room and would return.

Jem did not seem displeased to see her go. As soon as she turned the corner, he pushed back his chair and came over to us. After the preliminary flutter of greeting kisses, he turned to Uncle Humbert almost obsequiously.

“Good evening, sir. It’s good to see you out on the town again. Quite like old times.”

“By gad—it’s young Jem! The child star in Evangeline’s big hit so long ago … too long ago. And you still keep up with each other—wonderful! Wonderful…” A wistful look flickered across his face and he sighed.

“Ah, well … Bring your chair over here, my boy, and join the party—you and your lady friend.”

“How very kind of you.” Jem needed no further urging and Robin was already moving his chair. “But I’m not sure about the lady—”

“Before the revelry starts”—Evangeline flashed Uncle Humbert her
you devil you
most flirtatious glance—“Trixie and I must powder our noses.”

“Of course, of course, although nothing could improve them.” The old boy was blossoming by the minute. He even tried to stand up as we rose and followed in Frella’s wake. We had a few questions for that woman.

But the powder room was empty!

“She’s gone.” I stated the obvious. “She left her shawl so that we’d think she was coming back, but she skipped out.”

“Precisely.” Evangeline nodded grimly. “Why am I not surprised?”

Chapter Twenty

By the end of the evening, Nigel could have entered a purring competition against Cho-Cho—and won. Basking in what was obviously a glow of unfamiliar approval from his elderly uncle, he was one happy kitten.

Of course, Evangeline and I were in top form, if I do say so myself. And Jem revealed an unsuspected musical talent with a couple of spoons and an array of water glasses filled to varying levels.

Somehow, it all got a bit blurred, but very merry from then onwards. Robin, our waiter, turned out to have a passable baritone. Evangeline did a merciless parody of “Father, Dear Father, Come Home with Me Now” and several other Victorian tearjerkers. And I contributed my full share. We both managed to stay off the tabletops this time, despite voices from some nearby tables urging us on.

For the other tables were joining in the fun with friendly banter, turns of their own, and much applause. It had turned into a room-wide party.

“Three tables have cancelled their theatre reservations,” Robin confided happily, topping up our champagne. “They say the show is better here.”

At some point, I was conscious of camera flashes and those ghastly phones that take pictures being waved about, but I was having too good a time to care.

It began just after Evangeline had done the Charleston and I was riposting with my version of “I Wish I Could Shimmy Like My Sister Kate,” which is just a couple of grinds short of a full-fledged burlesque routine.

*   *   *

We were both harmonising “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend” when I noticed that Uncle Bertie was fading. Nigel noticed it at the same time. He leaned towards his uncle and said something.

“No, no, I’m all right. It’s just—” Bertie dabbed at his eyes with his napkin and gave a deep sigh. “If I had known that it could be like this, I’d have opened the Jewel Box.”

“No, really—” I demurred politely. “That isn’t necess—” Evangeline’s venomous look stopped me cold. If anyone was in the mood to start tossing baubles in our direction, I was not to dare to discourage them.

I nodded agreement in principle, but I would hate Bertie to think we’d been hinting at him with that last song. On the other hand, we didn’t even know whether he was worth hinting at.

“It’s not too late, Uncle—Bertie,” Nigel said, then shrank back at his own temerity, not sure that the invitation to such intimacy had included him.

“Too late, my boy. Too late…”

Oh, dear. Bertie had drunk himself into the lachrymose stage.

He mopped at the increasing moisture. “Too late…”

“Ah … yes … late.” Nigel rose. “I’ll see you home … Bertie.”

“No, you won’t!” Bertie snapped. “Don’t forget your manners, boy! You’ll see these lovely ladies home. I’ll be all right.”

“But—” Nigel was stricken. He didn’t want to offend his uncle. But if anything happened to their uncle Humbug while he was in Nigel’s care, poor Nigel would face a lifetime of recriminations and blame from his other relatives.

“We’ll be perfectly all right on our own,” I said. “We always have been.”

“I could—” Jem began to offer.

“Nonsense!” Evangeline settled the matter. “Another bottle of champagne—to take away,” she ordered. “And we’ll
all
see Bertie home! And
then
Nigel can take us home.”

*   *   *

Unfortunately, morning had to come. I awoke late and stretched luxuriously. Beside me, Cho-Cho stirred and did some stretching of her own before snuggling up against my rib cage and going back to sleep.

It wasn’t a bad idea and I let my eyes close again. Just a few more minutes …

There was a tap at the door and Jocasta came in with a tray and a harassed look.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry,” she apologised. “But can I ask you two to please, please have your meals in your rooms today? It’s chaos in the kitchen—” Her voice broke. “It’s chaos everywhere!”

“Oh dear!” I jumped out of bed and took the tray from her before she dropped it. I’d been afraid of this. They were all driving her to the verge of a nervous breakdown. “Sit down for a minute. Did you have anything to eat yourself? Did you get any sleep last night?”

“No … yes … not much…” It was an all-purpose answer to all of my questions. “I can’t sit. Isolde wants me to rearrange everything in the kitchen and—at the same time—Banquo needs me in the living room … he needs me…” Despite herself, she sank into an armchair and covered her face with her hands.