She fumes. “You revved them up against me.”
“Who?” I look around.
A few people have gathered to watch. Then Raff, like the magician he is, materialises behind them and starts edging his way towards me. “Is everything okay?”
“She’s taking our business,” Mrs Jenkins complains. “Don’t believe her visiting her granddad, all lies. She’s stirring up trouble.”
“I’ll take it from here, Mrs Jenkins,” he says in pacifying tone, laying a hand on my upper arm where she’s still gripping my sleeve.
Reluctantly, she untwists her fist and releases me but not before hissing, “Watch yourself, or you will pay.”
Raff steers me away and quickly down the hall. “Sorry about that. I was coming to the door to wait for you.”
“Did you know she was going to attack me?”
“No, but I thought there might be trouble today. You see, the Squad are demanding a partial refund of catering fees. They say since they don’t want the tea and biscuits she offers, they shouldn’t have to pay for it.”
“No.” My stomach twists as if Mrs Jenkins had it in her grasp. “This is trouble.”
“Oh yes, it is. They also insist they want a refund for dinners they don’t have when they’re at Kendric House.” He looks down at me, a small smile twitching the corners of his lips. “I’m afraid you’re going to be a victim of your success. The Squad is growing.”
We’ve reached the games lounge by now, but the double doors are closed which is unusual. Raff knocks and Vanessa cracks the door open. When she sees it’s us she opens it wide and welcomes us in. “Come inside, quick.” She closes the door behind us.
There are fifteen people here. All listening attentively. The room has been rearranged so everyone is sitting in a wide circle with DeNiro and Shirley in the middle.
“According to the contract,” DeNiro says, reading from a file. “We’re paying for three meals a day plus two snacks. If you divide the weekly catering charge by seven to get the daily allowance, then by five to get the single meal cost, we can—”
“It’s not the same, surely,” Philomena argues. “Breakfast isn’t the same as dinner.”
“Yes, it is,” Shirley says. “They’re both awful.”
“The point is” – Bill interjects – “we need an estimate.”
DeNiro agrees. “An estimate that the meals can be deemed to cost.”
I glance up at Raff and whisper, “Deemed?”
“DeNiro used to be a solicitor.”
Bill waves me over. “Here she is. You need to ask her before you go any further.”
“Ask me what?” I go to sit in the chair Bill seems to have kept empty for me.
“Are you happy to keep making fabulous afternoon teas? It’s a lot to ask.”
“Of course. I’m more than happy.” I smile at them all. Cooking isn’t hard; what worries me is this trade union they seem to be setting up. “But—”
“We will pay you, of course,” Bill says.
“Too right, we’ll pay her.” DeNiro beams at me. He has that twinkle in his eyes, the reason they call him DeNiro. Just like Rober de Niro in his more recent comedy roles. “We’ll just deduct it from what we pay them here.”
“I suggest we set up a subscription.” This from a lady with very short silver hair. “I can do the bookkeeping. Anyone wants to join the Squad can subscribe, and that money is paid to Leonie because she needs to pay her staff.”
“I don’t have staff,” I say quickly. This is starting to snowball.
“Maybe not,” she says sounding very much like an accountant. “But you will need staff if you’re making tea for all of us.”
“Those lovely youngsters helping you. You can pay them,” Shirley says.
